“Well… you see…”
“Spit it out, Thomas!”
“During my inquiries about Her Grace, it came to my attention that she is the youngest daughter of the late Earl of Marlowe.”
The color drained from his face. What was left of the air in his lungs completely disappeared. Gideon staggered back and collapsed onto the bed, the words knocking the wind right out of him.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis, a sickening lurch that left him disoriented and gasping for breath.The Masked Rogue, a title he had once worn with a sense of twisted pride, now felt like a noose tightening around his neck.
Thomas continued, his voice a distant echo in Gideon's reeling mind, “Shortly after, the Masked Rogue…or rather,you,plunged the Earl into severe debt, he drank himself into an early grave. Her Grace and her sister have been forced to live apart since then. Her sister married the Earl of Talley shortly afterward and they moved away from their family home but remained in Brighton. Meanwhile, the youngest daughter moved in with the Viscount of Hendale and was forced to erase her past in hopes of finding a suitable match.”
Gideon’s hands clenched into fists, the nails digging into his palms. It was all starting to make sense now.
Thomas went on, “There appeared to be some kind of marriage clause on the inheritance from the late Earl of Marlowe for both daughters. Thirty days, I believe it was. However, it would not carry beyond the age of one-and-twenty, and would rather pass onto the nearest living male relative. That may have been thecause for your… abrupt marriage. What I can’t seem to puzzle, is why Her Grace did not allow her sister to take the inheritance on her behalf instead of employing such an elaborate ruse.”
An empty understanding dawned on him just then. His marriage was doomed from the start. All this time, he had been the architect of his own downfall. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed, the weight of his past actions pressing down on him. His other hand clenched into a fist, the knuckles white with tension. “I was the cause of her suffering all along,” Gideon muttered, mostly to himself.
The realization of the pain he had unwittingly inflicted upon Amelia, the woman he had grown to care for, was a bitter pill to swallow. In his blind quest for revenge, he had ensnared the innocent, a fact that he had tried to ignore but now gnawed at his conscience with unrelenting ferocity. “Leave… leave me be. I need to think.”
“I understand.” Thomas inched towards the door. But he hesitated, then spoke again. “Before I go, allow me to speak out of turn one last time. I was reluctant to share this information, fearing it might dim the light I’ve seen in you recently. You seemed like the young, hopeful boy you once were, full of charm and sanguinity. Seeing you smile again was a pleasure, Your Grace. It is only regrettable that things have unfolded as they have.”
He exited the room with those words of finality hanging in the air. Gideon was left in a whirl of uncertainty, not knowing what to do. He couldn’t let it end like this. He had to find her, had toshow her how much of a fool he’d been to have forced her away in the first place.
If only he knew where to begin.
Just as he was about to turn away and leave the room, Gideon noticed an out-of-place sheet of paper lying on the vanity table. Its appearance strikingly resembled the one tucked in his coat pocket.
“So, what’s with all the commotion?”
The familiar voice had Gideon whirling again. Lewis stood casually at the entrance of the doorway, his presence as unexpected as a snowstorm in July. His eyes held a mix of curiosity and concern, his brow raised in a question that lingered in the air.
“Lewis? What are you doing here?” Gideon asked.
“I could ask you the same, Stanhope, given the state of you,” Lewis replied, stepping into the bedchamber, his gaze sweeping over Gideon's disheveled appearance. “But to answer your question, I got your letter. The one where you apologized and practically begged for my counsel. Couldn't believe my eyes, to be honest.”
Gideon's mind raced. A letter? He hadn't sent any letter to Lewis, let alone one begging for counsel. His eyes flicked backto the paper on the vanity, a sudden suspicion dawning on him. Could Amelia have...?
“You look as if you've seen a ghost, old boy. I assure you, it's just me,” Lewis jested, trying to lighten the mood. But his eyes remained shrewd, missing nothing. “…The letterwasfrom you, wasn’t it?”
Gideon forced a tight smile, his mind still reeling. “It's good to see you, old chap. I just... wasn't expecting you, that's all.” He swept towards the vanity, his fingers closing around the mysterious sheet of paper.
Lewis made to stand beside him. “Thought you would have the Duchess on a leash by now. Seems like it’s the other way around. Or perhaps you have just developed a penchant for pink in my time away?” Pointing at the paper, he added, “And who is this Dorothy?”
Gideon gave a mock laugh that Lewis appreciated nonetheless.
Wait, Dorothy?
His eyes flicked back to the paper once more. Then, he made to unfold it.
My dearest younger sister,
I write in haste, praying this message reaches you in time.
CHAPTER 29
The evening sun sank behind a galleon of clouds, casting a cold golden glow across the cobblestone streets of Brighton. Salty air ruffled Amelia's dark curls as she lingered outside Dorothy’s house, heart pounding in anticipation.
Taking a deep breath, she finally approached the open doorway, her pulse quickening as she neared the shadowy interior. Just as her gloved hand touched the door frame, a nervous young maid appeared from a side room, her eyes wide as saucers on a tea tray.
