Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5 (27 page)

Hope squirmed when Mrs. Woodhouse stopped walking and was set down. Savannah knelt, calling out to her. Hope walked to her, her short legs tottering a little until she found her balance. She then moved with amazing speed.

Savannah held out her arms, and Hope approached her, watching her with curiosity. Hope reached out, tugging on Savannah’s sparkling bracelet before tracing the pink glass. She gurgled something to Savannah, smiling as she climbed onto her lap. Savannah laughed, tilting her head backward to keep Hope from pulling too hard on her matching earrings. She reached up, unfastening them and handing them to Jeremy, who slid them into his pocket.

Hope frowned, reaching forward to trace Savannah’s ear, pulling on her now bare earlobe. Savannah giggled at her feather-light touch.

“That tickles, darling,” Savannah said, reaching to tickle Hope’s belly. Hope chortled with glee, arching her back and squirming. After a moment, Savannah stopped, leaning forward to hug her and kiss her on her forehead.

Hope pushed away and began to explore the room. Savannah glanced toward the Woodhouses and saw them studying her. She smiled and then turned to watch her daughter.

Mrs. Woodhouse moved to a settee with her husband standing behind her. “It is good to see you again, Mrs. Montgomery.”

“Although the scandal only seems to grow with each new day,” her husband said. “How many newspaper articles are there?”

“Quite a few I’m afraid,” Savannah said as her daughter returned and crawled onto her lap. She curled up and fell asleep, allowing Savannah the opportunity to lean over and kiss her head.

“Why would you court such notoriety?” Mr. Woodhouse asked. “I’ve tried to understand. I can comprehend leaving a violent man. However, I’d think you’d want it done as quietly as possible. I wouldn’t think you’d court infamy.”

“It was either I told them my story or they reported falsehoods, and I’d never have the opportunity to speak my truth.” Savannah took a deep breath, appearing to calm as she stroked her daughter’s silky hair.

“Even if the notoriety means you will lose access to your daughter?” Mr. Woodhouse asked.

Savannah jerked, her ministrations to her daughter pausing for a moment before restarting again. “I’d like to think we could come to some sort of understanding.”

“John,” Mrs. Woodhouse said in a firm tone. “What my husband is attempting to say, in his blundering way, is that we remain concerned that your reputation will harm dear Hope.”

“I understand your concern.”

“That is why we cannot allow her to be returned to you to be raised by you,” Mrs. Woodhouse said.

“Please,” Savannah whispered.

“We can’t allow it until the time arises that you are a married woman living with your husband. If that were to occur with Mr. McLeod, that would be acceptable. You’d still have the tarnish of divorce, with a tinge of notoriety associated to you, but you’d be within the respectable societal norms.”

“I see,” Savannah whispered. She bent over Hope, rocking to and fro. “Does this mean this is the last time I’ll see her until things are settled?”

Mr. Woodhouse set a hand on his wife’s shoulder, but she spoke. “No. I’ve spoken at length with John, and I believe you should play a role in Hope’s life. If not as her mother raising her, then as her aunt visiting her. Lowell isn’t that far away, what with the trains.”

“I see,” Savannah repeated. “I’d hoped you’d be willing to move to Boston.”

“No, ma’am,” Mr. Woodhouse said. “There’s little that could entice me to live in this big city. I like Lowell just fine. We have family there, and my work will likely pick up again, like it always does as the spring nears.”

“I’m happy for you, sir.” Savannah cleared her throat as her voice had thickened. “When can I see her again?”

“We plan to return to Boston in a few weeks. Why don’t we meet at your friend’s house?” Mrs. Woodhouse said.

“The first part of March,” Savannah said. “Yes, that would work nicely.” She kissed Hope one last time as Mr. Woodhouse moved from behind the couch to lift her in his arms.

“She’s been sleepier than usual lately,” Mrs. Woodhouse said with a smile. “I think she must be growing.”

“I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks,” Savannah whispered as they moved toward the door. She remained on the floor watching, even after the door clicked shut.

Jeremy sat in the chair behind her. “Are you all right, Savannah?”

“I’m attempting to discover my courage to face Jonas in court.”

“Your daughter means that much to you?” Jeremy stroked a hand down the side of her neck.

She saw his selfless concern and also his personal hurt in his eyes. “You do too, Jeremy. But no one’s told me that I’m barred from you unless I divorce him.” She leaned into his touch. “For if they did, I fear I might have done far more than publish articles in a newspaper. I can’t imagine being separated from you.” She whispered into his ear, “Do you think you could love her, Jeremy? I know she’s not yours, but I hope you can.”

Jeremy joined her on the floor, embracing her. “Put that fear to rest, my sweet Savannah. I’ll have no trouble loving little Hope.” His voice shone with wonder and happiness as he said, “A part of me already does. I’m sorry you’ve thought me indifferent to her, but I haven’t wanted to interrupt the time you have with her by joining you.”

“Thank you, Jeremy. I don’t know how many times I can manage the separation from her.”

“The Woodhouses seem like decent people. They want you to be a part of her life, and that’s a start.” He held her closer. “I think they fear losing her as much as you’re eager to recover her.”

Savannah sighed her agreement, kissed him on his chest and then pushed to rise. He helped her to a standing position and rose with easy grace. “Let’s enjoy this day,” Savannah said as she slipped her arm through his.

“Will you join me at the workshop for a while?” He opened the door, holding it for her as she walked through it first. “We’ll have to search out food at some point, but I’d love to have you in my shop. We haven’t had time to speak about our place recently.”

“When will we be able to move in?” Savannah asked, looping her arm through his as they walked down busy streets.

“Hold that thought,” Jeremy said as he ducked into a baker’s shop. Savannah followed him in and stood behind him, watching him laugh and talk with the owner as he purchased both sweet and savory items. She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of rising dough, of bread in the oven, all tinged with a mixture of licorice and chocolate. She sighed as she breathed deeply again.

“Ciao, Signora Castellini,” Jeremy said as he grasped Savannah’s hand, and they left. “It’s as though all your cares fall away when you enter their shop. Don’t you agree?” Jeremy asked.

“I’ve never smelled anything so delicious,” Savannah whispered.

“When we left my aunt’s house, Gabriel said that our visits to the bakery had to end. Somehow he always managed to scrounge together enough money to buy us one treat a week. Eventually he gave one of us the money so that every third week, we had the chance to choose the treat for all of us. That was my favorite day. Knowing I could go into that shop and be surrounded by that glorious food.”

“And see Mrs. Castellini,” Savannah murmured.

“Even then she was motherly. The best times were when one of us entered the shop and no one else was there. We’d often linger and act as though we didn’t know what we wanted just to ensure we had the shop to ourselves.”

“Why?”

“Because she’d slip a little something extra in the bag. When she realized the three of us were related, which didn’t take her long as we all look alike and she’s smart, she began to slip in three macaroons.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman,” Savannah said.

“She is. She one day apologized, saying they were the previous day’s cookies, but Gabe, Rich and I didn’t care. They were treats. And someone was showing us kindness.” He sighed as he looked at the busy intersection near Haymarket for a way to easily cross the street. “It wasn’t often anyone showed us three orphan boys a kindness.”

He looked down at her and frowned, raising a hand to stroke her cheek. “Why the tears, darling?”

“I hate the thought of anyone treating you cruelly. You never deserved it.”

“I know.” His thumb continued to caress her cheek. “I realized, when I met Florence, no matter how rough I had it, that at least I had Gabe. He protected me from the worst aspects of life. She was left to fend for herself, at about the same age I lost my parents.”

Savannah lowered her head, breaking eye contact.

“What is it, darling?”

“I’m continually ashamed at how I abused Florence to Clarissa before I married Jonas. I was awful.”

“You were fortunate enough to change into the woman you were meant to be. Feel pride, Savannah. I know Florence bears you no ill will.”

Savannah sniffed and turned to face the intersection, her brow furrowing. “How are we to cross?”

“I think we need to race to the middle trolley stand and then regroup before we race to the other side. Are you up for it?” he asked with a gleam of delight in his eyes. “Careful with your skirts.”

“Yes,” Savannah said, giving out a small whoop as Jeremy gripped her hand and they raced first toward the center of the intersection and then to the other side.

“Oh, that was exhilarating,” Savannah gasped when they stood on the opposite side of the intersection.

They began the short walk to his workshop. “Returning to your earlier question, the first apartment I’d hoped to rent suffered water damage when there was a fire next door. We were supposed to move in the first part of March, but now that’s impossible.”

“And I can’t imagine you’d want to live there,” Savannah said. She gripped his arm gently. “Too many memories.”

“Yes. It was close to where I’d lived with my parents and where we suffered the fire. It would have been difficult to live there.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d hoped to have us in a place by early March so we could celebrate your birthday in our new home.”

“Jeremy, that doesn’t matter. I don’t particularly like celebrating my birthday.”

“What was your last birthday like before you had Hope?”

“Clarissa was still in Boston, but she was never invited to our house. Jonas loved having large parties while I dangled on his arm as though I were some sort of prize. I’d just stand there and nod, smile when something clever was said. Or when the person who said it thought they’d been clever.”

“It sounds boring.”

Savannah laughed. “Oh, it’s freeing to admit it was. I hated every second of it. And I hated that birthday the most. For some reason, Jonas decided we should have a costume ball to celebrate my birthday. And since my birthday is March 15, that it should be Roman inspired.”

“So that people could stab each other in togas and act like they were killing Caesar?”

“Exactly. By the end of the night, I’d hoped someone had actually brought a real sword and would stab Jonas.” Savannah shuddered as she thought about that evening.

“Well then, no birthday celebration similar to that. I imagine we’d have a cake and quiet time with family.”

“That sounds perfect,” Savannah said as she squeezed his arm.

“As for our home, I’ve found another place, but it won’t be available until May first.”

“That’s fine. I’m eager to start my life with you, but I can wait. Now that the stories are in the newspaper, we no longer have to worry about newspapermen. It’s not as though there’s much of a scoop to say that I’m an unhappy woman living outside the bounds of marriage.”

“I’d sue them for using the word unhappy. For I’ve never seen you more radiant.”

***

“DELIA,” AIDAN SAID as he knocked on her door, poking his head in, noting another woman in the room with Delia. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He stilled his movement in the doorway, as though poleaxed, studying the young woman in front of him. She attempted to scoot around him and out of the room, but he blocked the only exit from the office. He reached forward and gripped her arm, causing her to look up at him in confusion.

He glanced at Delia, noting her pale expression and worried eyes. However, the young woman fascinated him, and he focused on her again. She was tall for a woman, nearly reaching his shoulders in height and had straight black hair tied back in a bun. Her bright blue eyes flashed with irritation, and her high cheekbones were flushed.

“If you’d let me pass, sir,” she said in a soft voice.

Aidan shook his head, kicking the door shut with one foot and inviting the girl to sit. He looked toward Delia, catching a glimmer of fear before she steeled herself into expressionlessness.

“Delia?” he demanded. “Is there anything you’d wish to explain?”

“Let her leave, Aidan. She has her chores to do.”

“Do you live here? Are you an orphan?” Aidan asked, clutching his hands to his side.

“Of course not,” the young woman said. “I live with my mother, Mrs. Maidstone, in the small apartment at the rear of the orphanage.”

Delia groaned softly and closed her eyes. “Zylphia, will you please leave us?”

“Zylphia,” Aidan murmured, his eyes taking in her stature, impeccable posture and work-roughened hands. He watched as she shut the door behind her before spinning to face Delia. “How could you? How could you have our child and never tell me?”