Whether it was she who ran into his arms or the opposite, she would never remember. She only knew that in the next instant, her cheek was pressed to his chest, his strong arms wound tightly about her. She shook and trembled, the tears pouring from her as she babbled his name, over and over, begging him not to disappear.
He nuzzled kisses into her hair, his hands stroking up her back, and that voice she knew so well soothed gently into her ears. “What troubles you, my sweet buttercup? Tell me what miscreant has made you cry, so that I may run him through!”
Her heart sank with the weight of lead as her stomach churned nauseatingly. She drew back slightly. How could she tell him all? That she was married, that her husband was responsible for… for everything!
“Amália?” his brow clouded in dismay, and he began to loosen his arms. “I know it has been a long time, but are you so displeased to see me after all?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, Richard! It is not that. There is much… so much to say, I cannot—”
She had been brushing the tears from her eyes with her left hand, but stopped when she beheld his horrified countenance. Her gaze followed his and struck on the band about her finger. She swallowed.
Richard fell away, pulling back his arms. His voice, a moment later, was strangely tight. “Forgive me, madam. I did not know.”
“Please, Richard!” she cried, reaching again for his hand. “It is not as it appears!”
He drew his hand back from her. “Is it not?” he rasped. He turned away, and she could see his jaw working as he bowed his head. A moment later he gave a rueful laugh. “What a fool I am! To think that after all this time, I would find you again just as I left you—that you would be sitting here under a glass dome like the eternal rose I made you out to be! As though time should stand still in my absence!”
He turned slowly back, holding himself aloof. “Do you love him, Amália? Tell me you do, and I shall leave you forever in peace.”
Her lips parted. She blinked, a rivulet of sorrow spilling from her lashes.
His mouth puckered in restrained fury, and she watched his fists clench and unclench. “I see,” he answered, the softness of his voice belying the rage she could see sparking in his eyes. He stepped near, and lifted a hand with whitened knuckles. He hesitated, meeting her eyes, and then extended his fingers to touch the last remnants of the fading bruise on her cheek. “And this?” he asked lowly.
She lowered her gaze. “A mistake,” she whispered.
“A mistake!” he bellowed in outrage. “You accept the blame for… forthis? The Amália I knew would never have done so!”
“My marriage was the mistake,” she corrected. “Had I my wits about me, I would have run away to England aboard a cargo ship!”
He froze, dropping his hand. “Then why did you not?”
This time, it was she who turned away. “You know the reasons,” she choked. “We spoke often of this, no? Had there been a way for us, any way at all, I would have! I had no choice, Richard, just as you did not.”
He made no reply for a long while, but stood helplessly behind her back as she fought against the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I suppose,” he answered brokenly after some minutes, “you might wonder why I should come back now, after so long.”
“No,” she murmured. “I know why.” She turned back, her eyes once more sparkling with unconscious brilliance. “He was here.”
Richard’s entire body convulsed, and he reached to clasp her hand in desperation. “My cousin? Darcy! You knew of him? He is alive?”
A smile at last shimmered on her face. “He is alive, and on his way to England aboard a ship. We released him on Tuesday night, but he would have only sailed yesterday.”
“Darcy!” his fingers clenched painfully over hers, so transported by joy that he did not notice her discomfort. “Egad, and I spent five days sniffing about the docks and back streets of Porto for information before daring to come here! To think that I scarcely missed him. Darcy, alive, and on his way home! But how did you know about him? Is he well? What happened? Why was he brought here, and how was he released?”
She shook her head sadly. “Much I do not know, but my husband was involved. That is how I came to find him; he was hidden in my house.”
His fingers stroked hers, parting and caressing them gently as if in a trance. “You found him?” he rumbled. “It was you who freed him? I might have known, my brave girl!”
“And Ruy. He said we oughtn’t to involve ourselves, that it was too dangerous, but that he owed it to you. It was he who arranged for your cousin’s travel.”
“I must thank him! Where is he, inside? I wonder what he has learned!”
“No, Richard, he has gone. He was recalled to his regiment only two days after. It was quite unexpected. We thought he had leave for another month.”
He frowned. “Recalled? Who gave the order?”
“General Lecor, of the cavalry, of course, under General Cotton. He was recalled to Lisbon, and told to ready for a march to the front in Spain. Oh, Richard, I am so afraid for him!”
