But later came sooner than he expected and the moment for explanations passed. Meredith dropped her hand, turned and left the room as silently as she had entered it. The expression on her face took with her any hope he’d had of a future together.
Despair wrapped around Hunter like a heavy blanket. She no longer trusted him. There was no going back.
“Caleb went to take a walk around, see if he could find anything,” Doc Whyte said. Meredith heard his words, watched as Hunter nodded in response, but it meant nothing. It was as if she were standing outside her body watching the events unfold. People moved and talked around her, made plans. She nodded from time to time but it was all a jumble of noise.
He was going to send her away. Again. Worse, he had been the one to convince the council to vote down her shop. Destroy her dreams.
How could she have been so foolish to believe he loved her? That he wanted to build a life with her? Oh, he would dole out the same excuse as last time. That he loved her, that he wanted her safe. But this wasn’t seven years ago, and she had thought they were working together.
But they weren’t. He was working with his father, pulling strings behind the scenes to keep her from succeeding. To keep her from staying.
It had all been a ruse.
Why he did it hardly mattered. In the end, the result was the same.
Meredith returned to the bench and sat down, her hands firmly clasped in her lap.
“I’ll stick around here,” Kincaid said to Hunter. “Just in case.”
Hunter walked over and stopped in front of her. She couldn’t look at him. If she did, she would fall apart. She stared at the button on his coat, at the bloodstain next to it. “I’ll take you back to the office.”
“I’ll need to stop at the hotel first to gather a few things.” Her voice sounded flat even to her own ears.
Bertram joined Hunter and crouched down, taking her hands in his. “Please reconsider and stay with me, Meredith.”
It was a tempting offer. She could go with Bertram. Hide. Bury her head under blankets and wrap herself in sorrow, but then what? The Syndicate would still be out there. They would still be looking for her. Her father would still be thought of as guilty for crimes he didn’t commit.
She stood, forcing Bertram to his feet, as well. She kissed his bearded cheek. “I’ll be fine, Bertram. Please don’t worry.”
They left the warmth of Doc’s office for the cold street, Hunter by her side. He had offered his arm but she ignored it, using her hands to hold the ends of her wool shawl together. The streets were deserted; everyone at the Town Hall had rushed back to the safety of their homes. The walk to the hotel was a short one, and Meredith wasted little time ducking behind the dressing curtain to change into her riding habit and exchange her shawl for her cape. It was better suited for movement than the fancy dress she donned to impress people who had already made up their minds. Thanks to Hunter. They said nothing to each other during the walk over, or while in the room. The oppressive silence hung heavy between them.
It wasn’t until they were on their way to the jailhouse that Hunter finally spoke.
“You okay?”
“I suppose I should be thankful Mr. Kincaid’s reflexes were not dulled by whiskey this evening.”
“I should have stayed.”
“Why? To see your handiwork in action? Well, you can rest assured you were successful. The vote went as you intended. They turned down my proposal. Although I must applaud your performance. Really, you and Vernon were born for the stage.”
From the corner of her eye she saw his head bow and the mouth she’d kissed so passionately—had it only been the night before?—pull into a tight line.
“It...it isn’t what it seems. I had a good reason—”
“To lie to me? To steal the ledger sheet from me? To make some deal with your father whom we both know is a part of the Syndicate? And it all worked out so well, didn’t it?” She couldn’t help the angry edge to her voice. It was a struggle to contain it, to keep it from bubbling over.
“Mere—”
How she wished he would stop calling her that! She cut him off again, not wanting to hear his reasons. They paled against the outcome. They reached the steps of the jailhouse and she marched up them then whirled around, her cape whipping about her legs. “It was the Syndicate that shot at me, I assume?”
He nodded.
“When did you find out your father was involved?”
“Last night.”
The air around them stilled. Last night. When he’d made love to her. “And yet you said nothing?”
“I needed to be sure before I told you.”
“When?” One hand gripped the railing. How could this be happening again? She kept waiting to wake up from the nightmare, but the cold air biting into her skin told her this was no dream. It was real. It was happening. “When you told me you stole the ledger sheet from me?”