Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [13]
“I’m free now and I’m all she has—me and Japheth, the outdoor man. Someone has to see to her welfare.”
All she had were two servants who would be free to leave her in a matter of years.
Raleigh hung his head. “I want . . . her forgiveness. I’ve prayed for two years to see her again.”
“Praying’s more than she does these days.” Sorrow filled the woman’s voice. “When your wedding day passed without a sign of you, then her mother died of a fever she contracted from a patient, my mistress stopped praying.”
Sickness roiled inside Raleigh’s belly. He should have been there to be a husband to her, a helpmeet, someone to support her—even guide her—in her spiritual life, not contribute to her turning from the Lord.
“Maybe if she can forgive me—” He broke off on a sigh to loosen the tightness in his chest. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but oh, how he wanted it. If Tabitha would give him her heartfelt mercy for what he’d done to her, the risks he took would be worth it. If they could start again, renew their friendship, their love . . .
“I don’t know if you’ll get forgiveness, Mr. Trower,” Patience said. “The hurt runs deep inside her.”
“Maybe if she knows—”
Footfalls sounded on the walk, swift and light. Raleigh shot to his feet, then stood motionless, not knowing whether he should wait for Tabitha to enter the house or if he should rush out to greet her. His heart raced, and he feared if he didn’t move, it would burst right from his chest.
He took a step toward the door, stopped, glanced at Patience. “Should I wait here or—”
The front door burst open. Warm air smelling of the sea swirled through the room. Carried on the breeze like a schooner under full sail, Tabitha swept into the parlor. “Patience, it’s so terrible. Three young men disappeared last night. They left the tavern in—” She ceased on a gasp. Her hand flew to her throat, and color drained from her face. “Raleigh!”
4
______
A long scratch marred the pristine surface of the silver tray where Dominick had dropped it onto the floor. He intended the incident to distract Miss Tabitha Eckles, the mermaid midwife. Instead, it drew too much attention to himself, not to mention the hour he was spending in the stuffy confines of the butler’s pantry, rubbing out the scratch with emery grit that stuck to his fingers, his sleeves, his nose.
“I should have gone to Barbados,” he grumbled to his reflection in the glittering surface of the tray.
At least in the Caribbean all he would have to worry about pertained to simple matters like yellow fever and field worker uprisings. Unlike the eastern shore of Virginia, where disaster could land on his head at any moment—literally.
“At least a bash to the skull would knock off the powder.”
He grimaced at the quantity of white froth adding its detritus to the emery grit. The pallid color aged him, making his skin appear sallow rather than lightly bronzed from the sun. Not attractive, whatever Letty told him and however the other female servants flirted with him. He didn’t need their approval.
He needed Tabitha Eckles’s approbation.
“I’ll get that when Barbados gets snow.” He shook his head, sending a shower of powder onto the nearly polished silver.
His yell of frustration brought Letty stomping into the doorway. “What are you grousing about, laddie? You were the one to drop that tray. You have to be the one to polish it up again.”
“And I’m the one ordered to wear this . . . flotsam on my head.” He yanked at a curl tumbling from his queue. “It’s utterly ridiculous.”
“It’s charming.” Letty tucked the errant strand beneath the ribbon.
“It gets over everything.”
“It wouldn’t if you didn’t stamp around here like an angry bull.” Letty softened her admonishing tone. “Dominick, you’re likely going to be here for at least four years. You may as well resign yourself to the fact and do your work with good cheer.”
“Sensible advice.”
“That you don’t intend to take.”
“I understand the gentlemen who settled this colony—”
“State.”
“It was a colony then and will be again, if my country has its way.” He