Her eyes glanced off him into the empty darkness beyond. “My lord? Pray, what is wrong? Your brother—”
“No, Kit is well. Please, may I come in?”
She stood a moment, eyes examining his face, as if struggling between acceptance and refusal. Then, with a slight smile, she nodded. “This is certainly not wise, so it had best be brief.” She gestured him inside.
He followed her into the parlor, dark and chill with no fire in the grate. After setting her candle upon the table, she sat and invited him to do the same.
He hesitated, searching for the most convincing words. “Forgive me for intruding upon you so late, but I leave for London in the morning and there is something we must settle before I go.”
“Excuse me, but I thought we had already said everything that was needful.” Sudden alarm flashed across her features. “Unless you’ve changed your mind—”
“I mean you no harm, as I assured you this morning. Quite the opposite, Mrs.—it isn’t ‘Martin,’ is it?”
Her eyes fell. “No,” she said softly.
“Nor is it the ‘widowed.’ Mrs. Martin?”
She jerked her head upright, dismay in her eyes. She opened her lips. Closed them again.
“You’re still married, aren’t you? That’s what—who you’re hiding from. That’s the matter that ‘cannot be fixed.’ Isn’t it?”
She sighed. “Why could you not accept the surface appearance of things, as everyone else does?” She smiled, her expression half rueful, half self-mocking. “All of England, and I must take refuge in the one small community whose squire’s son is friend to the Puzzle-breaker’s brother. So now you’ve guessed the whole of my secret. But as long as you honor your pledge not to betray me—and I think you will—what is there to discuss?”
“You believe yourself in danger, do you not?”
Her smile faded. “Yes.”
“Then you must come with me.”
That startled an incredulous laugh from her. “Go with you! To London where the chance of Ch—of discovery would be so much greater? You must be mad! Why do you think I chose so obscure a location?”
“Obscure or not, you just admitted that, should your husband discover your whereabouts, you would not be safe here. I can keep you safe.”
“I beg to differ, but you cannot! Clever though you be, you are not above the law. Should my husband find me, no one has the right to keep me from him.”
“You think I would let him find you? A man who has used you so badly you felt it necessary to go into hiding to escape him? Think, Laura! I’ve many more contacts than you. I can see you settled secretly, somewhere safe. Where you can stay while I persuade him to pursue a bill of divorcement.”
“Divorce?” She uttered a short, scornful noise. “Now I know you’re mad! He’s … an important man, fiercely proud of his family and his lineage. He’d never tarnish it with the stain of divorce. He’d see me dead first.”
Beau shrugged. “If he is proud of his family, he’ll want sons to carry on his name—which I trust you’ve not yet provided?” When she said nothing, he continued, “He’ll not get heirs without a willing wife. ‘Tis in his own interest to divorce you and find another. And should he refuse to proceed, he’ll be made to do so. A man who causes his wife to flee cannot be a saint. There must be some stain on his honor he would not want revealed, something that would be more damaging to his name than divorce. If necessary, I’ll guarantee him it will be revealed.” Beau smiled slightly. “As you know, I’m rather good at ferreting out secrets.”
Laura shook her head. “He will not be coerced. Only remember—society, law, custom are all on his side! Alerting him to my presence would only encourage him to arrange the one thing that truly would make him free …” Her fervent voice faded to a whisper. “My death.”
“Do you think me so poor a champion?” Beau asked, appalled, frustrated and more than a little stung by her lack of faith.
She looked up, her eyes lit with tenderness. “You are a wonderful caretaker to those who depend on you—your sister and brother and niece. But you cannot protect me. Even if I had some valid claim to your protection.”
“Do you not, Laura, my sweet?” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it, bring it to his lips. “Your fierce spirit laid claim to my heart that first long night we toiled together at Kit’s side. Every day that passes, each moment we share deepens that claim. A bond and obligation quite apart from what my family owes you, a link between you and I alone. Surely you feel it, too.”
A statement, not a question. Her lips trembling, she squeezed his hand. “Y-yes. But it cannot—”
“It can! We can be together, if you will only believe in me, trust me. I want you with me, Laura. I want to protect you and care for you and love you. I’ll pledge my life to prevent any harm coming to you. And I will do whatever is necessary to set you free.”
Tears welled in her eyes, the candlelight reflected in their watery sheen. “I believe you. But you do not know him. You don’t know what he’s … capable of. I promise you, he would never consent to a divorce. Soon I’ll be … safer, as safe as I shall ever be in this life. But only if I stay here, if you promise to take no action that might bring to his notice some hint of my whereabouts.”
“Laura, that’s nonsense! Only a divorce will truly make you safe. Won’t you tell me the whole, help me set the process in motion?”
“I cannot!”
Damn, but the woman was stubborn. Fighting exasperation and fatigue, Beau tried again. “Laura, I must leave tomorrow. How can I go, knowing you are alone and unprotected? I realize you’ve built a life here, and it’s only natural that you are reluctant to abandon it. But if I managed to piece together the truth, someone else might as well. Or what if, one day as you passed the village posting inn on your way to tend a patient, the door of a private carriage opened and your husband stepped out? What then?”
If Beau had harbored any vestige of doubt about the depth of Laura’s fear, the stark look of panic that widened her eyes and paled her skin at that possibility would have erased them.
The urgency of persuading her goading him ever more acutely, Beau pressed his argument. “It could happen, Laura. Please, come with me! I swear on my family’s honor to keep you safe and to see you freed.”
Pressing her lips together as if to still them, she pulled her hand free and backed away from him, stumbling as she encountered the wall behind her. Swaying with the force of her agitation, she remained there, eyes riveted on his face, while doubt, confusion and dismay played across her expressive face.
He let her retreat. “Trust your heart, Laura,” he urged her softly. “Trust me.”
Knowing there was nothing more he could say or do, Beau simply stood, willing her with all his strength to agree.
Finally, as he watched in consternation, a distant, shuttered look descended on her features, as it had this morning. She gave her head a small, negative shake. “I’m sorry, but I must stay. Please, do not urge me further.”
Beau grit his teeth and resisted the urge to shake her like a disobedient child. How could she not admit the superior logic of his plan? He took a deep, calming breath. “Laura, I know you are afraid, but—”
“Lord Beaulieu, must we part in anger? I will not go, and nothing you can say will change my mind. If you intend to depart at dawn, I suggest you return to the squire’s and get some rest before your journey.”
As if they’d just finished some innocuous social chat over tea, she turned away, apparently intending to lead him to the door.
Irritation