Page 79 of The Lord I Once Loved

She would forgive me… I mean, it was preposterous to imagine that she wouldn’t.

Why did I care, anyways?

“Hmph.”

I found myself sighing out loud at the sheer perplexity of it all. Seriously, what had come over me?

The door opened with a click, and my butler stood before me, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Where is she?” I said quickly, feigning a casual air but failing miserably.

“I apologize, my Lord, Miss Allen has already stepped out.”

I felt a small panic tingle up my spine, but I deftly ignored it.

“Fine.”

A moment of silence followed. My butler looked as if he was unsure of what to say and began to bow and take his exit.

“Well, where has she gone, then?” I blurted, annoyance bubbling up from the same place the panic had originated.

“She left word with her dressing maid that she has gone to visit her relatives on Gracechurch Street, my Lord.”

I nodded. That made sense, I supposed.

“You’re dismissed.” I said rather curtly, my mind already imagining Amelia journeying to Gracechurch Street on her own.

Of course, I trusted that she would be safe with her family there – they were good people. But the first time we’d seen each other in London had been on Gracechurch Street, when she’d almost gotten into trouble with a hackney driver. The idea of something bad happening to her was suddenly causing me entirely new feelings of distress.

I would have to go after her.

Before I could even hasten to ready myself, least of all take a drink from my flask, the butler hurried back into the room. His expression now betrayed a hint of concern, which was alarming. If a butler looked concerned, something was amiss.

“My Lord, a letter just arrived… from Bedham House.”

The moment he said the words, “Bedham House”, it was as if a shadow concealed the sun, sending the entire room into a dark gloominess. I nodded, ripping open the parchment that had been sealed with a blank wax stamp.

To Lord Marsden:

The Lady is in one of her particular states, and the

situation has deteriorated. The last shipment we

expected has not arrived. We beseech you to ensure

that further deliveries are made promptly.

The gloominess that had taken ahold of the room at mention of Bedham House intensified.

Apparently, my mother was in a “state.” Only I – and the few servants paid extraordinary sums to take care of her – knew what that meant.

I pulled my flask out of my pocket, took a hard swig, and then resolutely strode out of the townhouse.

Amelia would have to wait.

Thedaywasgreyand miserable, just like my mood. It was pouring rain, and large channels of dirty water were rushing down the sidewalks of London. I took a carriage to the docks of the Thames, but once I got there, there was no avoiding the downpour. Thunder clapped above, and the river itself was tumultuous, rolling with some kind of angry energy.

I felt the sharp sting of scotch in my throat, but it gave me no pleasure.

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