“I will understand if you can’t believe me yet,” he said. “I know I broke your heart. But I will do whatever I can, give you whatever you need from me.”
She pressed her fingertips to his lips, stopping his words—and nearly his heart with that personal touch. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.”
Warmth filled Barnabus’s chest, both from her touch and with relief that she was willing to forgive him for having been so thickheaded for so long.
“I love you, Gemma. I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of our lives.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Stay with me, love. Let’s build a life here. We’ll look out for each other, work together, love each other.” He slipped his arms around her. “I can introduce you to the man who might very well be my uncle, and we can have friends over for supper. We can waltz in the library as often as you’d like. We would be together. I can’t imagine anything better than that.”
“I love you, Baz,” Gemma whispered.
She kissed his lips lightly, but he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. Their marriage had begun on a difficult footing, but they were finding their way. They were finding reason to hope. They were finding love.
Chapter 23
Gemma straightened the antimacassar on the armchair nearest the fireplace. Baz’s uncle would be popping in that evening, and she wanted everything to be perfect. Finding family meant the world to Baz. He’d talked about little else over the past two days.
And, over the past two days, she’d done her utmost not to think about the forged letter for “Kate” she kept with her at all times or the notification of death she’d left in Baz’s desk for him to file when the time came. She had one week left before they had to be used. One week before she was supposed to be dead.
She could, she supposed, ask Mr. Sorokin to forge another death declaration, give her a bit more time. But the longer she waited, the more dangerous London became. Dying was her only escape. And her death was the only way Baz would be safe.
How could she possibly leave him now, when they finally had happiness within their grasp? But how could she even consider putting him in danger by remaining?
“Is he here yet?” Baz asked, stepping into the sitting room. He’d only just returned from looking in on Licorice at the Donnellys’ flat.
“Not yet.” She smoothed the front of her dress. It was the nicest one she had, but it weren’t much to look at.
Baz crossed to her. He snaked an arm around her waist, then kissed her slowly and deeply. She hooked her arms around his neck and melted against him.
“You’re beautiful, Gemma. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
She kept her arms snuggly where they were. “This dress ain’t much.”
“We’ll get you a new one if you’d like. But for tonight, don’t fret over it. My uncle will think the world of you; I’m certain of it.”
We’ll get you a new one.He fully expected her to stay. She’d not had the heart to remind him why that was such a bad idea. The last two days had been the happiest of her entire life. And he’d been bursting with excitement at introducing her to the man he hoped might be his uncle. She’d have to remind him of her plans, but she’d wait until the morning. Baz deserved a night surrounded by family he didn’t think he’d have to give up.
“So you’ve twigged this Mr. Snelling really is your uncle?”
“We’re both perfectly pleased to consider each other family, even if we can’t ever prove it.”
“I am so happy for you, Baz,” she said, though a very real part of her wanted to simply cry. Baz had longed for family for even longer than she’d suspected.
He gave her another quick kiss, then spun her out of his arms before crossing to his desk and setting down his doctoring bag.
“How is Licorice faring?” Gemma asked.
“Much better. Mr. Sorokin feels they can leave in another day or two. I suspect they don’t particularly want to, but they know it’s dangerous to remain.”
He might’ve been gabbing about her instead of the children and their protector. Was she selfish to have stayed even as long as she had? These past days with Baz had been brilliant. He held her and kissed her, told her he loved her. But staying put him in harm’s way.
One week before her only opportunity to free him came due. But she had to already be gone by then. That took planning. And time—something she was quickly running out of.
Baz peered out the front window, no doubt watching for his uncle. She joined him, and without hesitating, he set his arm around her again. She leaned against him. She closed her eyes, shutting out all the questions she had, all the uncertainty.
“I think I hear a carriage.” Baz narrowed his eyes on the street outside. “That’s likely my uncle. I’ll let him in.”
He moved with enthusiasm and excitement. This new family member was important to Baz. His patients were important. The rescue work he did was too. His writing. All those things tied him to London. The only thing tying her there washim.
In the dark quiet of night, she had contemplated suggesting he relocate to wherever she ran to. They could pretend to be strangers, fall in love, marry. This time it’d be because they wanted to. They could build a life they’d chosen together.