Page 83 of Atone, Adonis

“It means I don’t have enough time left to hold grudges. And you were right when you said we were more alike than I knew. I’ll do better, Fred, if you will too. And tell my sister to come and see me. I miss her.”

“That won’t be necessary,” a voice said from behind them. “I’m already here.”

Fred turned then to see his wife. He stood, nearly knocking the chair backwards in his haste.

“Jules,” he said.

“Fred,” she greeted him. “I came to see my brother.”

He watched that roseate light sweep over her features and gild her face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d been right earlier, there was no use for anything beautiful if Jules wasn’t a part of it.

“May we have some time, please?” she added and he nodded his head to her.

“As you wish,” he said and left them both.

Chapter

27

Julianna entered the Torquay Inn exhausted. She’d taken the train here and then gone straight to visit Thomas, never once considering that Fred might have also made the journey. She wasn’t certain how she ought to feel about that. He hadn’t followed her. She’d seen the carriage out front, so knew the journey would have taken him multiple days. She’d only arrived this afternoon by train, so he’d left before she had by quite a large margin.

She couldn’t be angry. She wasn’t. But she could be…unsettled. Yes, she thought as she made her way into the common room of the inn, seeing him unexpectedly had unsettled her.

It was warm and crowded inside. Thick with the smell of bodies pressed together and the roasted meat the inn was selling for supper cut with the tang of the briny seaside air. Conversation rose in waves around her as she made her way to the counter where the innkeeper stood.

“Good evening,” he greeted her when she approached.

Julianna took in his thick mustache and apron, the rolled cuffs of his shirt. “Hello. I’ve sent ahead for a room. I’m—”

“The Countess of Chester, my lady. Your husband arrived some time ago and asked that I be on the lookout for you.”

She froze as the man blithely wiped his hands on the cloth slung over his shoulder. Of course Fred had stopped here. There was only one decent inn in Torquay. But he hadn’t—surely he hadn’t—changed her request for her own accommodation.

“And my room?” she asked, hesitantly.

“It’s ready, my lady. Would you like some supper sent up? The Earl said you were partial to roast beef so we’ve set the best cut aside for you.”

“I would…that would be…nice. Thank you. And my husband’s room?”

“Adjoining yours, my lady.”

“I see, yes. And if I were to need them”—she glanced around the packed inn—“would there be other rooms available?”

“No, my lady. The adjoining suite was the last. It is the nicest by far though, you needn’t worry.” He looked anxious, as if she were the kind of Countess who might throw a temper tantrum over an inn room not being up to her standards.

“I’m sure it will be quite lovely,” she said, adjusting her tone to be as soothing as she could make it. “Lead the way.”

She followed him up the narrow staircase, her traveling boots heavy against the worn wood. He opened the first door on the landing and stood aside. “Your room, my lady. And his lordship’s through there.” He pointed to an interior door in her room that was closed. “I’ll have supper sent up shortly.”

“Thank you.”

He bowed and withdrew, leaving her alone in the small, tidy chamber. The ceiling was low and the furniture plain, the bed narrow but neatly made. There was a single window that overlooked the harbor. And the interior door—Fred’s door—that remained shut fast.

Julianna set her reticule on the table and removed her gloves slowly. She took off her traveling cape and hat, and then collapsed into the little chair. She was wearing one of the intricate gowns Madame Tremaux had made, so she would need to summon one of the serving girls to help her out of it later, but for now she just wanted a bit of silence after her conversation with Thomas.

Fred had come here because she’d asked him to. He’d told Thomas the truth because she’d demanded it of him. He’d stopped lying.

Her gaze drifted, unbidden, to the adjoining door again. But she stayed where she was. She needed to think, as she had been doing for the last several days at Farrow Cottage. It had always been easier to clear her mind when her hands were in her beloved vegetable gardens and her chickens were gossiping in the warm morning air. The green shoots of living things peeking their heads up after the long, long winter made her feel buoyant in a way nothing else could.