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“Once we’d grown closer, I decided that was my opportunity to finally leave Kipling behind. If I could convince you to run away with me, perhaps we could make a life, just the two of us.”
Bellamy refused to get caught up in the sentiment of it. He waved his hand dismissively in his direction, even as his heart panged. “And you decided not to tell me of your lavish plan?”
“I feared…many things. That with one wrong move, my dream might never come to fruition. Or that someone might overhear us, or somehow one of us might give it all away. So I held on to the plan, keenly, selfishly.”
Bellamy rolled his eyes, which only served to exhaust him further. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“I know I made the wrong decision, and I will regret it the rest of my life. Fear has a way of sending your thoughts and actions down a slippery path. If Kipling had found out…or Gladstone…” He shivered. “It was easier to pretend for the two of them, each powerful in his own right.”
“Pretend for me as well,” he pointed out.
“No, I was never acting, not with you,” he replied in an impassioned tone. “My sin was one of omission. But everything else we shared was pure and true. I was raised in an orphanage, Kipling did turn me into a wolf in order to join his pack, and I do believe we are fated. I can feel it right here, in the center of my chest.”
Bellamy averted his eyes, his pulse thrumming in his ears. “Stop saying such things.”
“When I learned you’d fled that night, I was gutted. Gladstone said you’d discovered my deception, which only angered him further. He asked if what you’d told him about Kipling and being a wolf was true,” he said, pacing in front of the bed. “He was furious, and after I denied it, I made my escape. He sent his henchmen after me, of course, but I absconded into the forest. I felt absolutely lost without you.”
All those familiar emotions came flooding back, cramming his chest, and Bellamy felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I cannot bear to hear any more.”
There was an elongated silence between them, only broken by Bellamy’s wet cough that seemed to last forever. He held up a hand when Ashwood tried to approach and help.
Ashwood sighed. “I’ll go see about a carriage.”
Bellamy watched him retreat, his slumped shoulders making him seem stooped over, his steps heavy and plodding as he walked out the door.
Bellamy shut his eyes to rest. He would need his strength to stand. Or fight if this ended up being yet another deception.
Chapter 7
The carriage came to a sudden stop, and Bellamy rubbed his eyes and sat up. He’d been asleep against his mother’s lap, and he felt her quick intake of breath.
“Where are we, Mama?”
“Visiting a friend. We’ll only be a minute.”
He looked out the window. The residence was nothing like the modest building they rented from, nor like the sprawling estate where his mother worked. It was just after dusk, and the place looked in shambles, with overgrown vines climbing the bricks, and weeds instead of flowers in the dirt out front. It made him curious who resided there and why his mother would be visiting them.
She stepped out in a rush, asked the driver to wait, and reached for his hand. “Hurry.”
She looked skittish, her eyes darting left and right. She pulled at Bellamy’s tiny hand, and his little legs had trouble keeping up with her as she practically dragged him into the small, dank doorway of the building.
He stayed quiet as they went up two flights of stairs, and then still as a statue as she knocked on the third door on the right side of the hallway.
“Come in.”
His mother walked them through the entryway to a dark room, and the friend she was visiting turned on a lamp to finally shed some light. He could tell his mother was nervous, so he held his tongue as they greeted each other. The woman before them wore a simple dress, and her hair was pulled away from her face in a modest braid. Her irises were a vivid blue, however, a stark contrast to the shadows beneath her eyes as they landed on Bellamy. She stared as if she could see inside him, and it made him shiver.
Who was this woman, and why in the world were they here?
His mother always kept to herself, never associating with anybody outside of work. She was also very protective of him, keeping close watch on his whereabouts, which meant that if he ever had an opportunity to play with others, during the rare moments of free time, it was always with the children of the other servants.
His mother steered him to a couch near the lamp and told him to stay put. She looked out the window to the street below as if to make sure they were safe, or perhaps to check that their ride hadn’t left.
