The house was dark save for a servant waiting for him by the door. Neal took a candle and went up the stairs. He could not wait to climb into bed beside his wife. He hated spending a day like this one. He would rather have had his evening at home with his family.
The bedroom was dark. Neal cupped the candle with his hand so that the light would not disturb Thea. He thought about blowing it out, but he feared stumbling around and making noise when he crashed into things.
Placing the candle in a holder on the dresser, he set out to disrobe as quietly and quickly as he could and then join his wife—
The faint light of the candle barely reached the bed, but Neal could see it was empty.
His first thought was that one of the boys might have taken ill and she was with him. He picked up the candle, determined to go to the boys’ rooms and see for himself, when a knock sounded on the door.
“Come in.”
Harry pushed the door open. He was in stockinged feet, and his shirt was pulled out over his breeches. His hair was mussed, he had a growth of beard, and he had not bothered with a neck cloth. Neal’s first thought was that he was foxed. His skin was pale and his eyes sunken, always signs of the worst.
“I’m cold, stone sober, if that is what you are wondering,” Harry said, wandering into the room.
“That’s good,” Neal murmured.
“Aye, good. I don’t feelgood. I feel ill.” He held out his hand. It was shaking. “But I had to be sober to talk to you.”
Neal found himself impatient. He was more interested in locating his wife than talking with his errant brother. “What do you have to say?” he asked, letting his annoyance show.
“Thea is gone. She’s taken her sons with her.”
Now he had Neal’s attention.
“I don’t understand,” Neal said with disbelief. “She wouldn’t leave.” He started toward the door, wanting to see Jonathan and Christopher.
Harry stood his ground, not letting him pass. “Sit down, brother,” he said. “I want to tell you a story about love.”
Chapter Sixteen
Thea took the mail coach as far as it would go. When at last she stopped, she and her sons found themselves on the Cornish coast, far removed from life in London.
Here, she let a small cottage overlooking the sea. It was a lonely place, and it fit her mood.
Her sons were furious with her.
They felt betrayed, and she didn’t blame them.
When she’d taken them from their tutor, she’d told them they were going on a holiday and that Lyon would join them shortly. With that terrible lie, she’d purchased their cooperation.
For a week after they moved into the cottage, Jonathan and Christopher kept an eye out on the road for any sign of Lyon. They talked about their ponies and their schooling. They had plans, plans Thea had interrupted.
After the second week, they stopped speakingof those things. They grew distrustful of her and querulous with each other.
Finally, Jonathan confronted her. “We are going back, aren’t we? Or is this like it was with Father? He just left and we didn’t see him again.”
Thea wasn’t feeling too good. She always had difficulty with the first weeks of her pregnancy, and this time was no different. “No, Jonny, we are not going back.”
“Did Lyon send us away?” her son demanded.
She shook her head. She knew that with the right words she could make them think Neal had played a hand in their leaving. Then she wouldn’t be portrayed so black. However, she found she could not do that to them. They needed some of the truth.
“We had to leave,” she said sadly. “I didn’t want to go, and Lyon would not want us to go.”
“Then let’s go back,” Jonathan said.
“We can’t.”