The Sweetwater Inn was a quaint tavern on the edge of Luton and despite the early hour of the morning, the proprietor ushered Elias inside, eyeing him with curiosity.

“You do not hail from these parts, do you lad?” the pudgy owner asked, slapping a pint of ale before him. “I would recognize a dashing face like yours, I daresay.”

His name was Charlie Blossom and he boasted his open policy for any weary traveler in Luton. The belly-cheat which covered his fat stomach was already filthy as though Charlie had not bothered with the washing of it for many moons, but Elias had matters with which to concern himself other than the man’s articles.

“I have come to Luton in search of someone,” Elias told him accepting the beverage gratefully. “She worked at the hotel for a time and now she has gone amiss.”

“Ah, benish cove you are, seeking a lass who does not wish to be found,” the man tittered, leaning across the countertop. “Seen lots of them come and go myself, chambermaids and the lot.”

Elias decided not to enlighten the man that the woman he sought was his wife. It would only lead to more questions and it was answers Elias wanted, not queries.

“Do you recall a dark-haired girl with eyes of blue? Comely and plump?”

The proprietor snickered.

“Lad, half of them are blonde, the others are dark. I could not tell you one from the next.”

“Her name is Christiana,” Elias sighed although he could see that the man did not pay much mind to the names of the women who might have filtered through. It had been Elias’ thought that the tavern would be as good a place as any to look for Christiana, knowing her propensity to seek out trouble.

“Christa, you mean?”

Elias’ head jerked upward.

“Yes!” he replied eagerly. “You know of her?”

Charlie howled.

“My word,” he choked. “I daresay everyone knows of her, lad. She is quite a lass, that one.”

He winked leeringly at Elias.

“I might add that you are wasting your time if you hope to court such a woman. She has many admirers and hesitates to smile upon none.”

Elias stifled a groan of resignation.

He certainly knows Christiana.

Still, Elias was hopeful. Finding someone outside of the hotel who knew her was certainly more promising than uncovering the truth inside the Balfour household.

“When did you last see her?” Elias asked. “Has it been recent?”

Charlie frowned, his mouth making a moue as he considered the question.

“Maybe a week? No more than a fortnight to be sure.”

Elias jumped to his feet, leaning across the bar and stunning Charlie as he reached for him.

“Here? In this very public house?” he gasped. Charlie stepped back, glancing at Elias’ face warily.

“Where else? Clearly you can see I am not a man to attend the Balfour galas.”

“Was she alone? Where does she stay? Is she well?”

The questions flew from his mouth in a torrent but suddenly Charlie seemed much less amiable.

“What is your business with the lass?” the owner demanded, folding his arms over his chest. “I daresay her beau will have something to say if you go looking for her.”

“Her beau?” Elias steeled himself from lurching clear across to shake the words from Charlie’s lips.

“Indeed. He works at the hotel also.”

“A name, Mr. Blossom. I need a name!”

“I do not care for your tone, sir,” Charlie barked back, a blank expression falling over his face. “And I do not owe you a response. You may finish your ale and leave.”

“I will not leave until you have given me some answers!” Elias retorted but he did reclaim his seat, willing his anger to subside. “I must know with whom she was.”

“I cannot recall.”

Elias groaned aloud, knowing he had lost his opportunity to learn anything in his haste.

“Please, Mr. Blossom. I must only ensure she is well,” he pleaded. “The name of her beau will suffice.”

“You could go to the hotel and ask yourself,” Charlie recommended crisply, turning toward his stock and pretendedly busying himself. It was clear he would be of no further help to Elias.

“Mr. Blossom,” he tried again. “You are certain it was as recent as a fortnight that you last saw Christiana?”

“I said as much, did I not?” Charlie snapped back. “You need not ask me again.”

That is something, Elias told himself calmly. She is about Luton but simply does not wish to be found.

A small part of him told Elias that the answer should have been enough, that he should return to Peterborough and wait for word or for his wife’s return now that he knew she was safe.

But do I know that she is safe? Why has she not sent word to me? There is nothing in this world which she could not tell me now. Is she being kept against her will?

Charlie’s sighting had only created more doubt in Elias and he shook his head, rising from his stool, his pint almost untouched.

“Mr. Blossom,” he called but the owner did not turn. He did grunt to acknowledge he had heard Elias.

“If Christiana were to return, would you give her a message for me?”

Slowly, Charlie moved his head to look at Elias over his shoulder.

“Out with it, then.”

“Tell her that her husband is in Luton and I am very concerned for her.”

Charlie’s mouth gaped open and he shuffled toward the counter.

“Crikey, are you truly her husband?”

“I am, Mr. Blossom. Elias Compton.”

“That strumpet ran off on you then?” he growled. Defensiveness fused through Elias’ bones.

“You must not speak that way of my wife,” he snapped and Charlie had the good decency to appear contrite.

“I will pass along the message for you, Mr. Compton but you haven’t much to be concerned about. She is well, I promise you as much.”

Elias believed him but it was not enough. He needed to see Christiana for himself.

“It would be most useful if you could recall the name of her beau,” Elias told him gently. “Or anything about the man at all.”

Charlie made a face which told Elias he did not wish to speak out of turn.

“I do not wish to cause problems,” Charlie muttered and Elias shook his head quickly.

“Whatever you tell me, Mr. Blossom, I assure you will remain between us. I need not mention your name.”

Charlie nodded, apparently convinced by the plaintive look on Elias’ face.

“I have a name for you, Mr. Compton but before I say it aloud, I would like to say that I do not believe he knew of her treachery either. He is a good man, not inaptly named.”

Elias nodded.

“I fault no one in this matter,” he assured Charlie. “There will be no scene made nor blame administered. I only wish to see my wife with my own eyes.”

“You are a true gentleman, Mr. Compton. I would not know many men to handle this with such decorum.”

“His name, Mr. Blossom, if you please?”

Charlie bobbed his head slowly.

“Of course. His name is Honor. Honor Wesley. He is the maître d’ at the Balfour Hotel.”

There were far too many people milling about for Elias simply to re-enter the building, despite his inherent desire to storm through the service doors and confront Honor directly.

You must not bring attention to yourself. It endangers both Joshua and Emmeline if you are caught.

It was also not in his nature to create a scene but his blood was boiling as he realized that Honor had known all along where to find Christiana.

That was why he was so eager to be rid of me. He thought I would take her home. He might still be right.

Elias knew he could not force Christiana to return for even if he managed to drag her back to Peterborough, she would only go off again. Short of locking her away, there was nothing he could do to control the unruly woman he had so foolishly married.

What if she stays here forever? He wondered as he paced along the property line in the cold, waiting for the sun to set so that he might steal his way back inside. I could return home and forget she existed but at what cost? I could never marry and have a family. What a life I have chosen for myself, all to keep a selfish girl safe from scorn and she could not be bothered to tell me she is safe.

Anger coursed through his veins for the first time since he had married Christiana, as if the past three years had been a trance which he had accepted.

Nothing has changed. She is the same woman you married. You knew how she would be. Why are you so furious now?

The answer was simple; until he had come to Luton, Elias had never known he could feel so intimately about someone the way he did Emmeline Balfour. He had resigned to his life with Christiana, never knowing how love felt.

Now that I understand what it is like to be connected to another, it is too late to understand it, to pursue it.

A weaker man might have justified his feelings and acted upon them with the knowledge that Christiana had never hesitated to commit adultery.

Yet Elias was not such a man, nor would he turn Emmeline into a besmirched woman.

“Elias! Good Lord, I thought it was you out here!”

Emmeline rushed toward him, her cheeks flushed with pink as she drew near.

“I have been waiting for you to return all day! Where have you been?” she gasped, abruptly stopping before him. Excitement and worry filled her eyes and Elias was again struck by her breathtaking beauty, her fair coloring against the black of her articles.

“I have word on Christiana,” he told her, wrenching his eyes away from the creamy skin of her swelling bosom which barely peeked through the thick of her wool cloak.

“As do I!” Emmeline gushed, reaching out a black gloved hand toward him. She had not meant to touch him but when she did, he instantly felt a spark of electricity between them which warmed him from toes to nose.

Elias swallowed and met her gaze, seeing that she, too, had felt the shock of energy and she offered him a shy smile but her eyes remained shadowed.

“You know then,” Elias said quickly. “Who her lover is?”

Emmeline nodded and in unison, they spoke a name.

“Honor Wesley,” Elias muttered.

“Walter Greene,” Emmeline answered simultaneously.

They gaped at one another.

“What?” they chorused. “Are you certain?”

Unexpectedly they laughed although they both knew it was hardly a comical matter but Elias continued quickly.

“I went to a tavern in town. The barkeep insists that he saw her in Mr. Wesley’s company not a fortnight past. What makes you say that it is your fiancé?”

“Antoinette told me as much. My father offered her a great deal of money to leave when he learned of it.”

“And yet she remained in town?” Elias mused. “Not that anything Christa does shocks me much. It is possible she has two lovers, maybe even more.”

“You poor dear,” Emmeline murmured, the compassion in her eyes shining through. “How do you cope knowing what she does?”

Elias shook his head indifferently but inside he was boiling with humiliation, the unfairness of the situation overwhelming him.

“If what you say is true, Emmeline, your betrothed is not much better.”

She grimaced but shook her head as if to refocus her thoughts.

“That is a matter for another time, Elias,” Emmeline told him, leaning closer. “The tale is worse than you could imagine.”

“Oh, I doubt that it could be much worse,” Elias replied, inhaling the scent of her hair as she drew her head closer. He hoped that he would forever cling to the memory of her nearness.

“Then I fear you are mistaken.”

Elias peered at her, his jaw locking in anticipation.

“What is it?” he muttered. “Where is she now?”

“That I do not know,” she said quietly. “What I am about to tell you will be difficult to hear, Elias.”

“Tell me,” he urged. “I must know.”

She bit on her lip and stared at him with glistening eyes.

“If what Antoinette has told me is true, Christiana is with child.”