Page 97 of Lord of Fortune
“Yes, I heard.” Penn had been so distracted by Amelia’s safety—as well as jealousy, if he was honest with himself—that he’d forgotten that bit. “It certainly sounded as if we won’t be able to complete our task without it.”
“I’ll get it,” Gideon said without hesitation. “You drive the chaise back to town and fetch the horses and our things.”
Penn leaned toward Gideon. “You can’t mean to go to Foliot’s on your own?”
Gideon shrugged. “Why not?”
“Isn’t he angry with you for not delivering the sword?”
“Perhaps, but Forrest didn’t deliver the heart either, and he was fine today, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Amelia said. “But he was clearly agitated about Foliot. When he learned I had the heart, he was quite pleased—relieved, actually. Said I saved him a great deal of trouble.”
“I have the sword.” Gideon inclined his head toward the bottom of the chaise where he’d fastened Dyrnwyn before they’d left the inn. “I can dangle it in front of him. He’ll be thrilled.”
Penn frowned. “You can’t give it to him.”
“I don’t mean to.” When Penn opened his mouth, Gideon held up his hand. “Will you allow me to do this?” It was less a question and more a demand. “I’ve much to atone for. I will get the dagger—and I won’t have to forfeit the sword to do it. It may take me some time, however.” He stroked his chin a moment. “Instead of meeting at the abandoned cottage, go to Wells. There’s an inn on the west side of town—The Stag and Hare. Go there and wait for me. It’ll be far more comfortable.”
Penn appreciated Gideon’s determination or bravery or whatever it was. It didn’t alleviate his concern, however. “How long do you suspect?”
“Depends on if Foliot is home, which he usually is. He prefers to have minions do all the work of the Camelot group.” He dismounted and walked toward Penn’s horse, stroking the animal’s neck. “I’ll go with the sword and tell him I’m back with the group. He’ll likely invite me to dinner, then he’ll disappear with one of his mistresses for a bit. That’s when I’ll get the dagger.”
“Oneof his mistresses?” Amelia asked.
“He’s not as uncouth as my father was, but they share many of the same appetites.” He climbed onto Penn’s horse. “I wouldn’t expect me before midnight. But it may be later than that. Try to get the room in the corner. It’s the nicest and easily accessible from the backstairs. If not, I’ll find you regardless.”
Penn climbed out of the chaise and looked up at Gideon. “You might be good at this treasure hunting.”
A short laugh escaped Gideon’s mouth. “We’ll see. Don’t get separate rooms. It’s best if you’re together.” With a nod, he turned the horse and set off in a trot.
Penn turned back to the chaise. “This is frustrating.”
Amelia set the book and reticule on the seat beside her. “Why, because you can’t go with him?”
“Yes. He’s doing what I do. It’s as if our roles have already reversed, and I’m stuck being the bloody earl on the periphery of all the excitement.”
“Some would argue that being an earl is plenty exciting,” she said softly. “But not for you.”
His gaze found hers, and he felt a pull to go to her. But he didn’t. “No, not for me.”
The air grew thick around them, and everything seemed to fall away. She was the one who broke the spell. “Can we go? I’d like to get as far away from Thaddeus as possible.”
“Yes, of course.” Penn climbed onto the horse and drove the chaise toward Glastonbury. All the way there he wondered how in the hell he was going to inhabit a single room with her at an inn and keep his hands to himself.
* * *
By the timethey walked into their room at the inn, Amelia was a bundle of nervous energy. She was anxious to look closely at the White Book. She and Penn had discussed it earlier, and both were excited to find the palimpsest and see what they could make of it.
But it was more than that. There was a current of tension stretching between them. It was neither good nor bad, but it felt as if they were each waiting for something to happen. She supposed it was normal for them to feel awkward after everything that had occurred. And given the way their future had been altered by Thaddeus’s appearance. Again, Amelia regretted that her bullet had only wounded him.
And again, she admonished herself for such awful thoughts.
“I’m sorry to have made you wait to investigate this,” Penn said as he set the book on the table situated near the window. “I’m afraid I was ravenous for dinner.”
“It’s fine. I was too.” Plus, dining downstairs had postponed the inevitable—the two of them sharing this small space.
Gideon had said it was the inn’s nicest room, and it was quite charming, with a well-dressed four-poster bed, an armoire they wouldn’t use, and a decent-size table that would allow them to complete their work. Two lamps lit the space, and Penn had obtained a third from the kindly innkeeper who believed they were husband and wife, which he’d set on the table.
