Loving Lizzie Finn

16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

L izzie shivered against the unseasonably cold November air and pulled the velvet collar of her cloak closer to her neck. Despite the frigid temperature, she thoroughly enjoyed the escape after being cooped up in the house for so long. Even if that meant going for a walk with her new suitor, Mr. Albers. In his desperation to quickly marry her to someone other than Byron, Teague had finally acquiesced to Aunt Margaret’s insistence that those on her list were the best choices for Lizzie.

Few people strolled in the Boston Common park today. Lizzie slid a glance over to the parson. With his sandy-brown hair and clean-shaven face, he wasn’t unattractive. Still, she preferred Byron’s darker locks and aristocratic features. She held back a sigh. She didn’t only prefer his handsome face. She preferred him and always would.

Mr. Albers had been quiet ever since they’d left his carriage. She didn’t have much to say either.

He met her gaze almost shyly. “I feel as though I didn’t make a good impression on you the first time we met.”

She cringed, remembering the ball. “I’m afraid I wasn’t on my best behavior. If I remember correctly, I reminded you of where I grew up almost immediately. That must have put you in an awkward position.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “Then let’s start over.” He tipped his hat and bowed slightly. “I’m Henry Albers, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

She smiled back as they continued along the path, her maid, Emma, trailing behind them. “I’m Lizzie Finn.”

“Tell me about yourself,” the parson prompted her.

“There’s not much to tell. I’ve found that I enjoy embroidering stockings for a living, not that my uncle will allow me to carry on that work.” What about Mr. Albers? Would he frown on her continuing to work after they were married?

A bemused look suffused his features. “I’m surprised your uncle allowed you to gain employment to begin with.”

She cast him a weak smile. “Indeed.”

“Unfortunately, you’ll likely find yourself too busy after we marry to have a job.”

A weight descended on her shoulders. Just as she’d thought. What little independence she’d obtained would be gone once she became Mr. Alber’s wife.

After several minutes of silence, he cleared his throat. “Let me tell you a little about me,” he offered. “I live a simple life. I spend my time visiting the elderly and sick of our parish as well as preparing sermons. As my wife, you’ll be expected to help me carry out my work.” His eyebrow quirked as if a thought had come to mind. “Do you attend services?”

In truth, she and her mother had never been religious, and Teague had given her the choice of whether she attended church with him and her aunt or not. The one time she’d accompanied them, it seemed all eyes of the congregation had been glued to her, their gazes somewhat curious but mostly filled with disapproval. Needless to say, she hadn’t gone back.

He studied her face and gave a tolerant smile. “It doesn’t matter. It’s never too late to turn to God.”

They approached Frog Pond with its fountain spraying water into the air. What would life with Henry Albers be like? Perhaps it wouldn’t be unbearable. He helped people and guided them to be their best selves. In all likelihood, he would make a considerate and kind husband, and she could settle into a lackluster, tranquil life. The thought made her stomach lurch. “I’m not sure my temperament is suitable for the life you describe.” Perhaps he was right when he’d told her at the ball that all she’d witnessed during her childhood had shaped her.

“I’ll help you adjust,” he assured her.

Through endless teachings, no doubt. She only hoped he had the endless patience he’d need. Which begged the question … “Why do you want to marry me?” Surely he could find someone more suitable, and more willing.

“My parents are pressing the match.”

“Why?” The moment the question left her lips, the answer became obvious. The Albers were in the retail business. They, too, would benefit from a closer relationship with her uncle. Another marriage because of business dealings. She pressed her lips together to hold in a growl of annoyance.

Mr. Albers took in her expression and looked away. “It’s past time I got married and have a family.”

Even if that were solely the truth, he was marrying her because that was expected of him whereas Byron wanted to marry her for love despite all the obstacles that stood in their way. Her heart sank. If she became Mr. Albers’s wife, she would be doing good deeds and helping others. While noble, that life wasn’t enough. A bolt of panic seared through her as a thought she’d held at bay sprang forward. What if she was carrying Byron’s child? How would the Albers family react? Would Mr. Albers cast her aside, or would he marry her anyway? If he did, how would her child be treated? Like a living reminder of their mother’s sins?

Mr. Albers’s attention shifted, and he stared over her shoulder.

She turned, and her breath caught at the sight of Byron. “What are you doing here … Mr. Greeley?”

Byron shrugged. “Like you, I’m strolling through the park. But I am glad to see you here today.” He glanced at Mr. Albers. “I’m worried about my sister. She’s unhappy these days, and I am at a loss as to why. She won’t talk to me. Has she spoken to you lately?” he asked, the barest hint of encouragement in his tone and a glimmer in his eyes that beseeched her to play along.

Very well. “She has.”

“If you have a moment, could we discuss what you know, in private?”

She turned to Mr. Albers. “Would you mind if I have a word with him?”

“By all means.” Mr. Albers stepped several feet away, the expression on his face pleased rather than annoyed. Perhaps he approved of her counseling an acquaintance as she’d be expected to do so for his parish once they were married.

A part of her worried that somehow Teague would discover she’d met with Byron, although she hadn’t seen the man who usually followed her, and the park was almost empty. Another part relished seeing Byron after so long. Still, the dark smudges under his eyes didn’t bode well. And the seriousness of his gaze—he had something on his mind. “How did you know we were here?” she asked.

“I had someone watching your house.”

She shook her head. “You know better than to approach me. I barely kept Teague from retaliating against you the last time you came to see me.”

Byron’s gaze turned curious. “Teague? Since when do you call your uncle Teague?”

Her chest tightened. “I’ve learned that Teague is my father, but I can’t bring myself to call him that.”

Byron’s brows rose. “How—?”

“I found my mother’s journal.”

He took a step toward her. “Are you all right?”

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “My mother saw me as living proof that she betrayed her sister, something she’d vowed she’d never do. She didn’t want a child. She didn’t want me.”

“I find that hard to believe—I’m sure your mother loved you, or she wouldn’t have gone to such pains to protect you at Maude’s House,” he assured her. “As for your … Teague, it’s undeniable that he wanted you. He took you home with him.”

Her insides twisted. “My mother’s relationship with him had always been strained, and yet, when she died, I hardly hesitated when he offered to take me home to live with him. I didn’t give much thought as to how I was dishonoring my mother’s wishes.”

“You were only a child when you made that decision, and moving into his house had been the best option at the time, better than continuing to live in a brothel.” He drew even closer, and for a moment, she longed for him to take her hand or wrap his arms around her ... before she came to her senses. She glanced back at the parson, who waited patiently, and she stepped away from Byron.

Byron cursed beneath his breath. “I wish we could have this discussion in private. I want to hold you.” He brushed his hand along the back of his neck. “How have you been feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know yet if you’re carrying my child?”

Lizzie’s heart thumped hard. She moved closer to Byron. “I already told you that I’m not enceinte,” she said in a harsh whisper.

He stared into her eyes, his gaze filled with tenderness and love. “You lied to me. I know you well and can read your expressions. You lied in an effort to protect me. You want me to think we have no future together, but I can’t give up on you, on us.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I wish you were pregnant.”

She gasped, the notion too terrifying to consider.

“Perhaps then our families would have no choice but to let us be together,” he finished.

“There’s no guarantee that would be the case.” Did she want a child? If she couldn’t marry Byron, would she come to resent the babe as her mother had her? She shook the thought away. “Did you come here to ask me about my health?”

“No.” His expression became grim. “I would have sent a message, but I don’t dare put what I’m about to say in writing.”

Dread prickled along her skin. “What is it?”

“Would it be possible for you to get the key for Teague’s safe at the bank?”

That prickle turned into full-fledged gooseflesh. “You can’t possibly be thinking of breaking into the bank.”

“I won’t be breaking in. One of the employees has agreed to let me in.”

“Who?”

“In case this proves to be a mistake, it’s best you know as little as possible. As far as anyone can tell, I stole the key, and you had nothing to do with it.”

Dear God. “You’ve gone mad. Are you sure this employee is helping you instead of Teague?”

Byron nodded. “He also introduced me to someone who has experienced the same issues with his loan as I have.”

“Byron, how do you know you can trust them?”

“Suffice it to say that even if this plan goes wrong, my loan will be paid on time.”

Warning bells rang inside her head. “These men are paying you to do this?”

“Not exactly.”

He couldn’t be serious. “I won’t steal the key. I won’t help you do something so foolish.”

“Lizzie—”

“Go, and don’t seek me out again.”

She stared at the Great Elm in the distance as Byron hesitated. After a few minutes, he finally walked away from her. Indeed, she would not be persuaded. If caught attempting to steal from a bank, he would face far worse consequences than the loss of his business. He may not hang from the Great Elm as in olden days, but he would likely go to prison, and his reputation as a businessman would be ruined. While she understood that he was under immense pressure and time was running out, how could he possibly consider searching Teague’s bank safe? The risk was far too great. Luckily, he needed her assistance, so she could put an end to his madness.

Byron leaned over the Greeley & Company ledger on his desk, his thoughts most definitely not on the figures written there. Instead, Lizzie’s shocked expression when he’d asked her to steal Teague’s key was foremost in his mind. The shock had been followed by disbelief, and for good reason. He had to admit that searching the bank was a risky proposition, but he’d run out of options. At this point, what choice did he have but to grasp at straws?

Enough. He closed the ledger and stood. He’d have to find another opportunity to approach Lizzie and reason with her. Perhaps tomorrow. He grabbed his coat and strode into the workroom. As usual, he was the last one to leave for the day. He shrugged into his coat and doused lights as he headed toward the door. A movement at the door drew his attention. A well-muscled man with a menacing stare strode through, followed by two others.

Dread pooled in Byron’s stomach, and he backed away from them. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

One of the brutes shoved a table over, spilling its contents on the floor. Byron recognized the man as someone he’d seen follow him on occasion. These were Teague’s lackeys.

“What do you want?” Byron tried again, still keeping his distance from the one who was approaching him.

The bruiser cracked a smile that was anything but pleasant. “I’ve come to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?” Knowing Teague, this deal wouldn’t be a favorable one.

“Listen up because I’m only going to make this offer once,” the apparent leader of the three said. “If you leave Boston and never come back, your loan will be forgiven.”

Byron stared dumbfounded at the brute. His loan would be forgiven? Teague was going to great lengths to keep him from Lizzie. Did he know they’d spoken earlier today? “I have a family here, and I run this business.”

“I’m sure you can find someone to take over for you. Your father managed things only months ago.”

“He’s too ill to—”

“You can return after a year, but no sooner,” the leader insisted.

A year? Enough time to force Lizzie to marry someone else.

“We’ll escort you home and then to catch a train. Once we see you leave town, your worries are over. Just be aware that we’ll be watching for you. If you come back to Boston before a year is up, there will be dire consequences for you, your family, and your business,” the bastard threatened.

Teague was warning him away from Lizzie, like he had Declan from Lizzie’s mother. Another pang of dread burned through him. No doubt, he would end up like Declan if he refused.

Then so be it. Even if Teague could be trusted to stay true to his word, he couldn’t give up on Lizzie. She deserved a better life than what Teague was thrusting her into, and he would give her that life.

“I won’t go.”

“You will.” The leader nodded to the men behind him. One of them pointed to a table with two sewing machines on top, and the other joined him in knocking it over. Byron winced as the expensive machines crashed to the floor.

The leader slowly approached Byron. “Leave Boston, or we’ll tear this place apart.”

“Do what you must, but I’m not going anywhere.” Byron scanned the nearby tables for a weapon of any kind. He grabbed up a large pair of shears. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

One wave of the leader’s hand, and the other two thugs began destroying everything in sight.

Byron opened the shears and swiped the blade through the air in front of the man. “Stay back!”

The leader smirked and picked up a chair. He swung it at Byron.

Byron attempted to dodge the blow, but the chair slammed into his back. Pain shot up his spine. He stumbled, and the blackguard attacked, stripping Byron of his weapon and bashing Byron in the face. His cheek throbbed, and his vision blurred for a moment.

Byron regained his senses enough to punch the bastard in the ribs, but the brute continued his onslaught, his fists connecting with Byron’s stomach and face until Byron landed on the floor, only to receive kicks instead. Repeated jolts of pain blazed through his body. Would this be the end of him? Would he ever see Lizzie or his family again? Still, no matter what happened, he wouldn’t regret his choice. He’d never leave Lizzie.