Page 13 of Dalliances & Devotion (The Truitts 2)

“I think it came with the rat.”

Amalia leaned over David’s shoulder as he unfolded the message.

Death would be too good for a treacherous villainess like you.

And all her analysis of the past faded away, leaving only the present. The now more frightening present.

Well, the cat story wasn’t going to work anymore, was it? Pressure beat against her skull as the words echoed in her head once more.

Villainess.

She wasn’t one, was she? Sure, she was often thoughtless but never mean. Except...

We have nothing to discuss, Mr. Zisskind, not in private. I’m an engaged woman now and there is nothing between us, absolutely nothing.

Stale sourness invaded her mouth, choking off her air. She’d gone on to expound upon her wealthy, blond, educated, fashionable fictitious fiancé. Mean wasn’t the half of it. It was vicious.

Especially as she’d wanted a dark-haired radical who cared about ideas, not meaningless things. But he was going to leave her—like everyone else—and in that moment, all she wanted was for someone to hurt half as much as she did. Even if it was wrong.

And she might not be clever, but she could craft words. She had that power. And those shots at his insecurities she’d fired...more precise than anything her sharpshooter brother could pull off...

Lies. Which wounded quite a few people—more than just her and David. Especially when she forced them to be true. When she’d ruined her life instead of facing reality.

No. Amalia forced herself to breathe, to swallow, to keep her chin steady. She hadn’t ruined her life. She’d learned from what happened. It’d opened her eyes.

And even if her chickens were coming home to roost, or whatever the saying, there was no use acting like a weakling about it. She was among people who stared down cannons and charging men.

She squeezed her thumbs, the nails digging into her palms. “Well, does that mean that I’m not having my head chopped off? That’s a bit of a relief, actually. It wouldn’t be a good look for me, though I suppose I’d be an easier height to dress. And think of all the money I’d save on hats.”

“We’re getting off in Pittsburgh.” David gave Will a small pat on the back.

“And changing lines, I know.” She chewed a nail. Terrible habit. If her mother saw she’d rip Amalia’s hand from her mouth and stick it in a glove.

“We’re not taking our scheduled train.” David was halfway out the door, his posture warrior-like, all broad shoulders and bulging arms...

Will nodded. “A fair alternative plan. Though make sure you check in with both Thad and the boss. They’ll want to know, even if you’re asking forgiveness not permission. That’s better than letting them find out themselves.” The taller man’s eyes never left David, as if she wasn’t in the room. As if she had no say in anything. “But yes, throw whomever it is off our trail.”

“We’ll just have to kill some time. We’ll find a private place to guard her. Somewhere safe. And quiet.” The men exchanged glances, but had to meet her gaze. It was the one advantage of being tall: no one could look over or down at you.

“I suppose we could wait in one of the storage areas...” Will shuffled from foot to foot. “Not the most comfortable, but, secure.”

Yes, siree, an advantage. Now they had to look her in the eye when they discussed treating her like a prisoner.

Which was not going to happen. She screwed her mouth to the side. What could they do in Pittsburgh? Oh. Well, it wouldn’t be enough money to solve all her problems, but it could buy her time. Especially if she failed with her parents. Besides, any donation helped.

“Ethan.” She nodded to herself. Her first husband. Who could be charmed. Better, who owed her.

“You want to visit your first husband?” Will gaped at her.

“He has food, servants, and security. His family also holds a major stake in the railroad so he can see you two have all the aid you need.” She wrinkled her nose. As long as it didn’t come out of any money he was going to give to her fund.

“You divorced him. Why would he do that for you? Unless he’s the one after you. Do you have a death wish?” David brushed past her and into the main sitting area. Probably to eat all the good breakfast before it got cold.

“I have nothing of the kind. And isn’t preventing my death your job? If you deserve a big promotion, you can certainly handle protecting me through one tea.” She sniffed a little. “We’re going.” She snapped the last word as the door shut. She could put on her makeup and hat and gloves all by herself.

Chapter Five

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