"You heard what Malcolm said. Don't be," she soothed, rolling them onto their sides.
"I'll try. I just can't bear the thought of losing you."
"Or I you. It'll be all right, I promise. As soon as we see Jonathan, everything will become clear as a pane of glass for both of us, I'm sure. Sleep now, my love."
He nestled against her, and did just that. She rested her chin on top of his head, and followed suit.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Sarah rose from the bed at the first light of dawn. Alexander reached for her in his sleep, but she evaded his embrace and dressed sensibly for their journey. She rubbed her arms, feeling as though she would never be warm again.
When she got downstairs, Mr. Evans reported that some injured men had been picked up on the road back to London. Four dead men had also been discovered in the vicinity, though none of them with any identification on their bodies.
"Are you sure there's nothing else you need?" the curate asked.
"I'm fine. We're going to have breakfast and head off. Jed, Tim and Edgar are readying everything outside. They'll ride with us for part of the way north. The magistrate is also sending some outriders. I'm sorry for the way everything has worked out, but I'm sure you'll be hearing from Jonathan shortly. We're all very grateful for everything you've done."
"Glad to help, Miss Deveril."
Alexander came down, clad head to toe in dark navy, looking muzzy-headed with sleep and desperate to see Sarah.
"There you are, darling."
"Good morning, my love," she said, moving towards him.
They were just beginning their warm, appreciative greetings when a rap at the door caused them to all start.
Sarah ran over to the drawing room window, keeping low. She looked out the leaded windows, and saw a tall, curvaceous woman in a fine dark green velvet gown standing on the stoop. Her gorgeous appearance caused Sarah to put a hand to her hair and dark gray frock, she felt so appallingly dowdy.
"It's all right, Mr. Evans. It's a woman coming to call."
He opened the door, and the blonde gave him a winning smile.
"Hello. I'm told you have a gentleman staying here, Alexander, I believe?"
Mr. Evans looked at her questioningly, then stepped into the large drawing room where Sarah had thrust Alexander for safety's sake.
Sarah stepped forward. "How do you know Alexander? What do you want with him?"
"Why, he's my husband of course. My name is Marielle."
Chapter Thirty
Sarah stood trembling on the doorstep, shocked to the core. Her breath strangled in her throat, and heart felt as though it would give one final surge and burst.
Marielle. She knew the name only too well. Alexander had called it out in his sleep with a roar of anguish. Had quivered at the thought of her death.
"Marielle?" she echoed weakly, unable to summon any coherent thought as all of her dreams of happiness came crashing down around her head. The horrid words against herself came thick and fast: adulteress, whore, bastard.
"Marielle Davenport. And he is Jason Alexander Davenport. I ran into a mutual acquaintance of ours in Bath, and he told me the incredible news. That he had met someone matching the description of my darling husband, who's been missing for over two years. That he was still alive. Where is he? I can't wait to see him."
"In Bath?" Sarah asked with a frown, conducting her into her own small sitting room.
"Yes, I've been living quietly in the south-west, ever since my terrible loss. I thought I might take the waters for my health. I saw my friends at the Lower Rooms last night, and they were astonished that I had not heard the news. That Jason had been there for over a fortnight, right in front of everyone's eyes."
Sarah stared at the heavily made up blonde and tried not to feel completely inadequate as a woman. But the blonde's voluptuousness was palpable, almost offensively so as she sought to charm everyone in the room with her wide blue eyes.
"I don't mean to sound callous, but have you any proof as to your claim that you're his wife? I'm sorry, but we had some trouble last night, and I have to be a bit suspicious."
Her eyes widened, though she looked more vulpine than ever. "Trouble? I hope nothing serious. Proof, yes, of course. I have our marriage lines right here, and an old pocket book of his, and the wedding ring he gave me. My name is engraved inside, along with his. I know it's unusual to carry them, but I use my marriage license as proof of identity when I have to draw funds on a strange bank."
Sarah looked at the things coldly, dispassionately, as if they were meaningless trinkets and baubles from a stranger's life that had nothing to do with hers.