Page 26 of Dalliances & Devotion (The Truitts 2)

Damn all of it.

“I didn’t see anyone sniffing around the luggage.” Will popped his head through the door and slid in. “But I can’t be everywhere at once.” He latched them inside before leaning against the wall. Probably dead on his feet. Like poor Meg.

A ripple of guilt spread through David. His friends had been working too hard, making up for his distracted mind.

He glanced at Meg, whose eyelids fluttered as if fighting sleep. Amalia was his responsibility more than anyone’s and he was the one in charge. His fault, not Will and Meg’s. His failure. His screwup.

Maybe everyone in Grodno had been right about him—he was the son of a no-goodnik, a no-goodnik in his own right, and nothing more. Maybe his family was prescient in their bid to get rid of him.

After all, what had he done before he came to America? Treaded the same tracks his father had. And yet he failed there too. He couldn’t even turn his back on his people correctly.

Could he blame Amalia for shielding herself from a man who’d never be good enough?

He bent forward, face in his hands.

“How’s Amalia doing?” Will’s voice boomed across the room.

“Sleeping, last time I checked.” Meg’s expression was weary. “The cut’s nasty. She near sliced through a tendon. I’d wrapped it pretty tight when I first got to her but she bled through. I stitched it as best as I could. She’ll have a rather large scar.” His partner’s eyes were somber. “Using her fingers will be difficult for the next few days. And painful.” She tutted her tongue before shaking her head. “Poor girl.”

His throat filled at her tone. It was bad. Really bad and they’d been very lucky.

“Change of heart?” David managed to force something that almost resembled levity into his voice, even as guilt pounded his mind. He should’ve been paying attention. Should’ve at least noticed something amiss, instead of turning back too late to see anything but Amalia fall.

Meg gave a soft chuckle and leaned farther in her chair as Will sauntered over to occupy the one across. “Nah, she’s still a spoiled brat.” Meg dipped her head back for a moment before rocking back to meet his eye. “But she certainly doesn’t deserve to be maimed for that.” His friend frowned. “Even if she has lousy tastes in men.”

“Lousy?” The word came out a growl but the hairs on the back of his arms rose to attention. What did the first husband do? What had Meg seen? He’d been with her the whole time, except...the two had spoken privately for that one moment. It seemed innocent enough but if he touched a hair on Amalia’s head...

Meg toyed with the sleeve of Will’s coat that she’d wrapped around the thin washer woman’s disguise she still wore.

“What did the staff say?” He jumped to his feet, all his senses waking and in a full panic.

Oh god. Had Ethan actually done something horrible to Amalia when they were married? A bubbling mixture of fear and rage raced through David’s veins. Where had Thad been? Where had her father been? How could they be so suspicious of him, but permit her to marry someone who would hurt her?

A thrumming started in his ears. Where had he been? What had he been doing during that time?

He swallowed. “Meg?”

“Lord, David, no. He didn’t—it isn’t whatever horrible crime you’re imagining.” She bit back her lip, her brow creased, as if she was weighing each word. “He didn’t do anything, really, he’s just...”

“What?” He’d bent

down so far he was almost on top of her. Will thrust him back with a slender, yet steel-strong arm and a warning glare. David stepped to the side, adjusted his tie and repeated the question.

Meg gave both men a withering glance. “A bigger spoiled brat than she is.” She shrugged. “At least I think that’s the easiest way to describe it.”

Everything inside David relaxed. “Ah. Well, I could’ve told you that.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and collapsed back on the couch.

“I mean, I could see physical attraction.” He didn’t need to see Meg to know she was smirking again, probably wide enough so Will couldn’t miss it.

David resisted a snort at her antics. Not believable. Will had nothing to worry about.

First of all, Ethan Bloomenstock wasn’t that nice to look at. Sure, he had neat, lush, golden hair that probably glittered in the sun, along with even, white teeth that could be seen in every full smile. And bright blue eyes. And clean, pressed, soot-free, fashionable clothes. And probably smooth, un-calloused hands. And no accent. And a college education. Just as Amalia described all those years ago.

He gritted his teeth. “I suppose.”

Still, second of all... There was no second of all and his friends were now giving him these knowing, pitying glances, tutting over his lack of answers because somehow it’d all be turned around on him. Again.

“Is that a bit of envy I detect?” Meg snapped off the t in a knowing manner.

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