Page 69 of The Hunter
“Why not?”
“Well, he’s not like other boys, rambunctious and rough. He’s so… so stoic and quiet.”
The sound of amused disbelief Argent made bounced her head off his chest a little. “I’m sorry, are we discussing the same boy?”
An answering smile coerced her lips to curl. “He’s rather taken to you.” She pressed her head against the hand in her hair and he allowed her to look up at him. “You don’t know how rare that is. He’s generally such a shy child, much like Agnes was, actually.” She let out a great sigh and brought her hand up to fix a button on his shirtfront. Enjoying the intimacy of their closeness more than she should, enough that she was loath to let go of him.
He didn’t release her, either. So they conversed like this, standing in each other’s arms.
“I worry about Jakub sometimes,” she confessed. “He’s so softhearted. So gentle and clever. At his tender age, he knows so much more about everything than I do. He reads more books, and remembers it all, I vow. I encourage him to go out and play, but he’d much rather be inside, painting or working his figures, practicing the piano or watching us rehearse.” She finished with the button, smoothed her tear stains, and had begun to fidget with his collar. Nothing was wrong with it, of course, not with Welton on the job, but Millie did two things when emotional or anxious. She talked and she fidgeted.
Argent had yet to move, and she didn’t let herself stop to wonder if he thought her ridiculous. She spent all her time being charming and listening to others. No one had ever been interested in her thoughts and fears about being a mother.
“It’s really rather wonderful,” she continued. “Having him around all the time. But I’m beginning to fear that I’m coddling him too much. Or that I’m failing him, somehow. I suppose I should make him stronger, or tougher. The world out there is so difficult and cruel. What if I’m making him weak, how will he protect himself?”
Argent still had locks of her hair in his hands, and he rolled her curls over his fingers like one would a fine sand. “He has a mother like you to protect him. That is enough for now.”
His words lit a small glow of warmth in her heart, and she hoped that he could feel it radiating from her. “How could I not? Do you know what always made me glad that he didn’t have a father?”
“Hmmm?” Argent brushed the hair from her neck and arranged it down her back, exposing her throat and shoulder. She didn’t tremble in fear this time. She barely gave it a thought.
“A father, especially a nobleman, would want him to be a hunter, or a soldier, or something equally manly. He wouldn’t understand his artist’s heart; maybe even hate him for it.”
“Not every man would see things that way.” Something in Argent’s voice made it impossible for her to look up.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter. I never did find out who his father was. I don’t even know if he’s the one who’s after us.”
“That’s the reason you should have told me the truth from the beginning.” Argent said this as less of a rebuke this time, and more of a statement. “Because I think I know who Jakub’s father is, and I’m almost certain he’s the one who wants you dead.”
Millie’s lungs emptied of breath. As dramatic reveals went, his was unparalleled. She was afraid to ask. Unwilling to know. And yet, her ignorance had to be the worst form of torture.
As she opened her mouth to demand he tell her, Argent asked. “Do you still have that letter? The one your friend Agnes gave you from Jakub’s father?”
“I do.” With a sick sense of dread building in her belly, she reached down the left side of her corset, where’d she’d sewn pockets in each of her underthings to carry the two documents that were most important to her for years and years. The papers proving she was an English citizen, and the letter Agnes had given her all those years ago. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d needed to produce either document, but having them next to her skin always made her feel more secure, somehow.
After five years, the fine paper had faded and dark creases marred the masculine script, but as Millie pressed the two sides of the broken wax seal together revealing a phoenix at rest, something sparked in her memory.
Unfolding it to study as she had done countless times before, she turned her shoulder to Argent so he could read it along with her.
Dearest Agnes,
Too long have I allowed us to be kept apart by convention and society. What seemed so dire in the past years together now has become a trifle in the months I’ve spent without you. I’ve come to understand that life is fleeting, and we only have the one to live. How can I finish the rest of my days without you and my son next to me? That’s right, my love, more than anything I want to claim Jakub as my son, the legitimate and legal heir to my titles, lands, and legacy. I’ve already secured the proper papers from the crown.
I’m divorcing my wife and leaving her all of our assets in town. I am so miserable with her, so utterly unsuited. For once, I am glad that she’s never given me a child, as it makes leaving her excusable. I’ll take you to the country estate in Yorkshire where we will marry. And you will live there with me as my lady, and my wife, everyone be damned.
She’s become increasingly suspicious and, dare I say, unhinged, so we must do this quietly until we’re out of the city. Please meet me at the little tea room by St. Augustine’s at half past two and I’ll give you a train ticket and some money for you to make our plans. It’s safest that you tell no one until what’s done is done.
This is the beginning of the rest of our lives together, my darling.
All my love,
D
“So she never told you who this man was,” Argent stated.
Millie looked over her shoulder. “She promised she’d tell me when she returned that night, but…” She swallowed some fresh grief. “Are you saying that you know this man?”
“I’m sayingyoumet this man and his family tonight. I believe this letter was written by Lord David Albert Fenwick, Earl Thurston.”
