Page 85 of Lord of Fortune
Amelia’s jaw dropped. She’d never imagined such cruelty, such viciousness. And yet seeing him today, she realized it was not just possible, but likely. “That is probably true.” Foolish didn’t begin to describe how she felt.
His gaze softened. “I’m so sorry, Amelia. You say he’s a member of the Camelot group. Everything we know about them says they’re ruthless in the extreme. Is it possible he courted you to gain access to your grandfather?”
She thought back, and shame engulfed her. “Grandfather never liked him, and my father changed his opinion too. They didn’t think he was good enough for me. I never thought he’d come back. I certainly hoped he wouldn’t. I planned to have him declared dead so that I could truly be a widow.”
“But he’s not dead, and he wants the heart. Did he bring the book to trade, or was that a lure to get you there?”
“He didn’t bring it.”
“I wouldn’t expect that he did. I wouldn’t have gone to this meeting. I would have gone and watched to ascertain who showed up, then I would have developed a plan.” He stood up from the bed. “Which changes nothing, of course. Your husband is very much alive and has apparently been watching you. I wonder for how long?”
Nausea swirled in her gut. To think Thaddeus had been spying on her all this time made her ill.
“That was a rhetorical question,” he said. “I can see how distressed you are, and I’m sorry for it. I wish you’d told me the truth about this. Why didn’t you?” He looked hurt and upset, and she longed to smooth the lines away from his forehead and kiss the tension from his mouth.
“I didn’t think it mattered. I thought he was gone forever—maybe even dead,” she said hopefully. “I certainly never imagined he would turn up in this fashion.” She stood and smoothed her night rail down. “I don’t know how we continue from here. I thought I would be free—”
She stopped. They’d confessed nothing, promised nothing. And yet it felt as though they had. To her, at least. She had no idea what was in his mind.
“But you are not.”
Penn picked up his waistcoat and shrugged it on, then he scooped up his coat and cravat, draping them over his left arm. He gave her a smile that was devoid of humor and full of sadness and regret. “Here I thought being an earl was the worst thing that could happen to me. Turns out I was wrong.”
Anguish tore at her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth lest she allow a sob to escape. She blinked against tears.
“Don’t cry, Amelia,” he said softly. “You couldn’t have known. Anyway, I’m a traveler, a man without a true home. I am, unlike you, eternally free, and that’s the way I like it. God willing, I’ll get to continue that way, and Gideon will be the earl.” He inhaled sharply and straightened his shoulders.
“In the meantime,” he continued, “we’ll devise a plan to recover the book and solve the cipher to find the real heart. Then our association will have reached its fruitful end.”
Amelia wasn’t sure how she could go back to the life she’d led before she’d met Penn. She didn’t want to. But Thaddeus had given her no other choice. Thaddeus might even try to reclaim his marital rights. Dread pooled in her belly, and she had to work to keep herself from completely falling apart.
Somehow, she found her voice, though it was wobbly at best. “Yes, we will. I’m sorry, Penn. I wish things were different.” So badly she wished they were different.
He nodded but didn’t say another word before he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click that reverberated in her chest like a physical blow. Then she went thoroughly and horribly to pieces.
* * *
The night passed even worsethan the previous. Penn had barely slept, and now that it was morning, he simultaneously yearned to see Amelia and wasn’t sure he could bear it. Knowing her husband was alive and involved in their quest filled him with anger and despair. He’d wondered at what kind of future he and Amelia might have with the life he led, but all that was moot now that he knew she was still wed. They had no future.
And neither did the life he enjoyed. The moment he’d learned he was an earl, he’d felt doomed. Making Amelia his countess would have been a shining beacon, transforming a disaster into something he could not only tolerate but maybe, just maybe, anticipate.
However, he couldn’t take a wife who was already married.
A voice in the back of his mind reminded him of Septon—a baron who openly lived with his mistress who was married to someone else.Hadbeen married to someone else. Penn wondered if they would marry and, if so, would it change how Society viewed them? Septon wasn’t entirely ostracized, but he also wasn’t accepted amongst the most elite. Lady Stratton, however, had been almost universally shunned. She never went to London and nearly the only social gatherings she attended were the ones she hosted with Septon. Could Amelia be content with a life like that if they chose to be together in spite of her marriage?
Disgust roiled in his gut. He couldn’t ask her to do that.
And what of your children,another voiced asked,they would be bastards.That hadn’t been an issue for Septon and Lady Stratton as they hadn’t had children. Penn had every reason to expect he and Amelia might. He couldn’t do that to them.
The dismal thoughts churned in his mind as he made his way to the dining room. His parents were already seated as he walked to his chair.
“You don’t look as if you slept very much,” his mother said worriedly. “I’m sorry about everything on your mind.” She’d always done her best to ease Penn’s troubles, and he imagined it was difficult for her to see him in distress. He wouldn’t tell her that she didn’t even know the half of it.
Gideon came in then, and Penn was saved from having to respond. His cousin—no, his half brother—took the chair opposite Penn’s. He looked slightly better than Penn felt, which wasn’t saying much.
The only open space left was next to Penn, which meant Amelia would sit beside him. He tensed as he awaited her arrival. And then she was there, garbed in a peach-colored gown with a wide, cream-colored sash. She looked fresh and lovely, and his heart ached at the sight of her.
Her gaze landed on the vacant chair to his left, and her reaction was barely detectable—just a slight flaring of her nostrils and parting of her lips. He knew her well enough to recognize her discomfort. He also knew her well enough to conclude that she would rise above it.
