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He picked up his clothes, walked to the door, then stopped and looked at her. “Just promise you will not put yourself in more danger…” Then he looked at his boots and chuckled. “Oh wait. You already promised me that. And look where we are now.”

And then he left her forever.

34

Three weeks later…

Hyde Park was far too hot for Calliope… The sun shone too brightly, frying her skin under her light muslin gown and petticoats. The vast, open meadows were slightly yellow after the heat of the past ten days. The breeze, which Jane had called pleasant, was far too faint for Calliope as she walked along the gravel path, refusing to succumb to the weakness that had taken over every inch of her body.

The shouts of children running around in a shadowy grove sounded too loud, the crunch of gravel almost hurt her ears. Her sense of scent drove her mad, overwhelming her with the odors of horse manure, roses, Adam’s needle, dahlias, and grass.

In front of them, Calliope’s brothers conversed with Poppy and Violet, who were leading Orion and Cerberus. A bit behind them, Hazel accompanied Grandmama. Richard would be departing on a ship in a few days, heading for America to search for Spencer.

What not a soul from her family knew was that Calliope was going on that ship as well. She had to finish this and save her brother who had saved her when she needed him most.

But also…the urge to run from the pain left by Nathaniel’s rejection, by him leaving her, was too much. She needed to distract herself, to do something active. She couldn’t stay and show him how much he’d truly hurt her. She couldn’t give in and lower her walls for him, show him her underbelly just to get another blow.

No matter how much she wished it, she could not return to the night of stars and irises when they both bared themselves, and not just physically.

The entire procession was concluded by four footmen who walked behind Calliope and the ladies. Before Nathaniel had left the house, he’d ordered the footmen Calliope had previously hired to always follow her whenever she went out. She didn’t fight him on that. She simply had no energy to do so. She knew he needed to make sure his heir, and therefore Calliope, would be safe.

Even though their romantic relationship had ended, she would still be his wife and the mother of his child.

“Are you all right, Calliope?” asked Jane. Hercules, her foxhound, happily trotted in front of her on his leash. Calliope held Argos’s leash as he walked in front of her, his giant tail moving fast.

“You look quite pale, darling,” said Penelope, who strode on Calliope’s other side, “and green.”

Both of her sisters were too observant. Unlike Penelope, who looked glowing and radiant in her pregnant state, Calliope had never felt so sick in her life. Raising her legs to walk was hard physical labor, like there wasn’t enough air in the whole of London to fill her lungs. The constant feeling of nausea she’d had for the past three weeks got stronger every day to the point where she couldn’t keep most food down, save for salty bread and slightly sweetened, weak tea.

These must be the symptoms of pregnancy… Her monthly bleeding still hadn’t come and was already three weeks late. She couldn’t have been sick from something bad she ate for three straight weeks… And yet, she didn’t know for sure. Nor did she know if this pregnancy would stick.

The thought was a little concerning. Calliope hated feeling out of control, despised being dependent on anyone, feeling vulnerable.

And yet, it seemed, she couldn’t do a thing about changing any of that.

The only thing she could do was to keep her head high and pretend she was fine. That she had no wound in the middle of her chest that ached from the absence of her husband, no bile constantly trying to rise up her throat, and no dizzy spells so strong she sometimes had to grasp on to furniture so that she didn’t fall.

“I do feel a little queasy,” said Calliope, “but that’s why I came here for a walk, to get some fresh air.”

“No word from Nathaniel?” asked Jane gently.

“Not since he sent me the letter,” said Calliope, the mention of her husband like a knife between her ribs.

Three weeks had passed since Nathaniel had left. Since her whole world had shattered and broken apart.

The very next day, she’d received a letter from Nathaniel outlining every detail he’d learned about HMS Concord. In April it was protecting York on Lake Ontario, but the town was captured by the American forces. Luckily, HMS Concord managed to escape. The last thing the Admiralty had heard was that it was headed to Boston after that.

“I’m sure he’ll let you know if he hears anything,” said Penelope carefully. “News from America doesn’t come often, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t, given that it can take anywhere from two to six weeks for the ships to cross the Atlantic.”

“That means,” said Penelope cheerfully, “if the ship was captured or sunk, we would have heard by now. So it’s good we haven’t heard that.”

“Unfortunately,” Calliope said, “it doesn’t mean Spencer is safe. We don’t know if he’s still on that ship. All we really know is that he was taken there with no money or possessions, dressed only in smallclothes, with no way to return home, and we haven’t heard from him since.”

“I still hope he returns,” Penelope whispered. “However much I think he’ll be in shock to learn that I married his brother.”

Calliope swallowed. “Poor Spencer. You were his first and only love. The only woman he seriously considered marrying.”