Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)(25)

“But while he’s here, he mustn’t suspect me. Not even a little bit. He thinks I’m a frivolous, foolish sort of female, forever shopping and planning parties. I want him to continue to think so. For the next few days I shall devote myself to my guests’ entertainment. I’ll plan meals. I’ll protest when Blakely refuses to participate in my musical evenings.”

“Blakely’s keeping him company? Harcroft must be calling in all his old favors. I gather he trotted Blakely out to frighten you into divulging my secret plans. That is a complication.”

“It’s even more complicated,” Kate confessed. “You see, my husband is back.”

“Carhart? When did he return?”

“Yesterday. Can you believe it? Of course his vessel could not have been blown off course by two weeks. And now he’s here, and instead of having Harcroft ignore me, Ned will be following me around, bothering me. Last night—”

She shut her mouth ruthlessly. It didn’t seem right to disclose what her husband had told her. His promise had seemed so real in the moonlight, as sacred as a wedding vow. It seemed almost a violation to share it.

Be practical, she reminded herself.

But before she could answer, Louisa took her hand. “I know it’s been a great while since…your last time. Did he hurt you?”

If there was one thing worse than spilling marital secrets, it was Louisa offering Kate comfort because Kate’s husband—the man who fed peppermints to ill-tempered horses—might have hurt her.

“There, there,” Louisa soothed. “I promise, if he shows his nose around here, I’ll shoot him for you.”

Kate choked back a laugh. “That won’t be necessary. He was never that bad. In fact, he is…” Different. Dangerous. “Gentle,” she finished awkwardly. “He always has been. You’ve met him. Do you suppose you might…well. Tell him?”

Kate felt a sudden sense of vulnerability at the thought. She had no idea how he would respond, if he knew. Her own father had flared up at the slightest intimation that Kate intended to take on an interesting project—as if it somehow reflected poorly on his capabilities as a father if she did. His had been a prickly, cloying sort of love—the kind that did everything difficult for her, so that she might sit in peace.

And boredom.

She loved her father, but hiding her work had been a necessity.

“No.” Louisa stood and turned away abruptly, patting the swaddling firmly. “He’s friends with Harcroft, for goodness’ sake.”

“We’ll need someone to help obtain a divorce. You might have options, besides fleeing to America. And it would be better than this.” Kate spread her hands to encompass the tiny room and all it implied—a life spent hiding from a man who had the legal right to compel her presence; her son, growing up without the natural advantages that were his birthright. “It’s a radical process, but surely you could obtain a petition on grounds of extreme cruelty.”

Louisa’s hands fluttered uncertainly. “Would he help? Do you know? How much influence do you have over him?”

Not even enough to get him in bed.

If she’d had any influence over her husband, he would never have left. And he’d come back more frightening, more mysterious than ever.

Louisa slumped into her chair again, and Jeremy, in her arms, gave a small, sleepy hiccough. “Even that’s no solution. Even assuming your husband was willing to defy mine, it would end with Harcroft having Jeremy. I won’t abandon him.” A fierce note entered her voice. “Not to him. Not to that. I would rather die.”

An extreme pronouncement, although by the fierce light shining in Louisa’s eyes, the sentiment was heartfelt. A thread of uneasiness curled around Kate’s spine. She’d given Louisa a gun.

But it was rather too late to rip the pistol from her hands, and it would have made no difference in any event.

“The weapon.” Kate licked her lips. “It is to be used only as a threat, understand?”

“Oh,” said Louisa bitterly. “I understand. This is as much my fault as anyone’s. I let this happen to me. I didn’t say anything for years. No complaints. No protests. I accepted it. I dare say I deserved it.”

“Nobody deserves to be hit in the stomach with a fire poker.”

“But I didn’t stop it.” Louisa’s gaze abstracted. “Until he threatened Jeremy, I didn’t stop it.”

Kate had discovered the truth of her friend’s mysterious illnesses a year before. In that time, she’d urged her to leave, to do something. It had taken Louisa thirteen months to act. It was impossible not to feel sorry for her, after what she had survived. She understood that her friend had been damaged in more ways than by just her husband’s physical betrayal. Still, it was impossible not to feel a hint of frustration.

“Don’t speak that way,” Kate said. “You did stop it, eventually. You’re here. You’re safe. Nobody will ever find you.”

Kate looked out the window. Before them, dying grass covered the hill, stretching down into the autumn-brown of the valley below. A spiral of smoke rose from a village miles distant. Kate counted to ten, pulling her own confused emotions in line, until that plume of smoke had disappeared and reformed again, before she answered.

“I think you underestimate your own strength.”