Desperately hoping to change his mind, Alanna started to argue. "But you only saw him for a few minutes. You really didn't have the time to appreciate w
hat a charming boy he is."
"Yes, he has his mother's charm. That I could see."
"Please don't bring Melissa into this," Alanna begged. "It concerns only you, me, and Christian."
Hunter rose and lit the lamp. "Randolph told me Elliott's funeral is tomorrow morning. You needn't decide anything until he's buried. I owe you that."
"I needn't decide? This is a decision we have to make together."
Hunter stared down at her. "I can't change how I feel. It sickens me to look at the boy, and I won't be his father. Maybe we can convince Randolph to adopt him. He seems terribly lonely, and if he has a daughter, he might like having a son."
"You might like having a son, if you'd just try!"
Just as he had earlier in the day, Hunter shook his head and walked out on her.
Chapter 27
Randolph had never entertained a more distracted pair, but he assumed their sullen moods were due to the forthcoming funeral, rather than a reflection on the quality of his hospitality. His cook had prepared ham with new potatoes and peas, one of his favorite meals, but neither Hunter nor Alanna had much of an appetite. He tried, completely without success, to suggest topics of conversation they might enjoy, but other than an occasional nod, they appeared not to be listening. Finally he simply gave up, finished eating, and, using the newly arrived shipment of merchandise as an excuse, returned to his shop.
Left on their own, Alanna wandered into the parlor and Hunter followed. He again chose to lean against the mantel, rather than take the seat beside her. He didn't speak until the silence between them had grown uncomfortably long.
"I'm not leaving you," he said. "Not in the way a man leaves his wife, but I've learned General Braddock has only a few scouts with him. He's going back over the same trail we cut through the wilderness last summer, which is a grave error, but with a much larger force. If I join them, I can tell Byron what's happened. I doubt that he'll welcome me into your family either, but I want a chance to win him over to our side, before his parents speak with him."
Hunter's comment was so unexpected, Alanna was quite taken aback by it. "Last night, when I suggested Byron might help us, you discouraged the idea. Have you really changed your mind, or are you just looking for an excuse to leave Williamsburg?"
She was looking down at her tightly clenched hands, but Hunter could see she was as unhappy as he. Knowing the wounded edge of her feelings was as raw as his, he was not offended by the bluntness of her question. "It's not an excuse," he denied. "It's a reason."
Reason, excuse, the words meant the very same thing to Alanna: he was leaving. "You'd rather fight the French again than stay here and fight with me? Is that closer to the truth?"
"I don't want to fight with you over this either. Just let me go."
"I'll not scream and plead and throw myself at your feet, but what is it you expect me to do?" Alanna asked pointedly. "I'm not welcome at home. I'd be lost in New York without you. Do you think you can just leave me here with Randolph, until you return? You are planning to come back, aren't you?"
There was always the chance he would be killed, but Hunter knew mentioning it wouldn't reassure her, so he gave the only promise she would want to hear. "Yes, of course, I'll come back for you. You're my wife."
Alanna looked up at him. She feared he was only postponing their next confrontation over Christian, but she was no more eager than he to force a decision neither could accept. "Perhaps it will be best if you're away for a while, but I'll miss you terribly."
"Not nearly as much as I'll miss you. I'll leave you all the money. Have some new gowns made. There's plenty. Buy whatever you like. Rent a room with another family, if you'd rather not live here. You must have friends. Wouldn't one of them invite you to stay with them?"
"The Frederick sisters might," Alanna suggested absently, "but we don't have the same interests, and they'd soon tire of having me around."
"I can't believe anyone would ever grow bored with your company."
Alanna was immune to his flattery that night. "It's true. Sarah has always loved Byron, and Robin was just as fond of Elliott; I know my cousins liked them, but not enough to propose." Elliott had proposed to her instead, Alanna recalled sadly. "It would be very difficult for me to be around Robin, knowing how much she'll miss Elliott when he—well—"
"When he wanted to marry you?"
Alanna nodded. "It would be even more awkward than staying here."
Hunter came to Alanna, took her hands, and helped her to her feet. "I've made an outcast of you, haven't I?"
"Please don't say that. We didn't have a chance to tell my aunt and uncle how you'd carried Elliott's body, or hidden it so carefully. They'd have nothing to bury tomorrow, no grave to tend, if not for you. Maybe if they understood how you had risked your life to safeguard Elliott's body, or how swiftly his murderer died, they wouldn't have been so quick to send us away."
Hunter tipped her chin, so she would have to look up at him. He had always loved her beautiful green eyes, but all too often, as it was now, her gaze was a reflecting pool of pain. "If, if, if—don't torture yourself. There are too many ifs for me to ever be a part of your family, and no amount of wishful thinking will change things. You and I have to understand each other though, and I think we do."
"Understanding isn't the same as agreeing," Alanna mused thoughtfully.