Jamie walked away with a shred of hope in his heart. There was still time to convince her to stay.
But it was running out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ninety-eight…ninety-nine…one hundred.
Panting and with sweat dripping down the side of her face, Hortense collapsed on her stomach. Unable to wait calmly for Jamie, she’d decided to put her body through its paces, which usually quieted her mind and set it to rights. Not on this night. So, she was doing two rounds.
Having placed her masquerade finery in the wardrobe, she was down to a simple chemise. If she donned the plain black trousers she planned to leave wearing, Jamie would instantly suspect her intent. She had, however, taken care of one vital piece of business: she’d taken the signet ring from the side table in his bedroom and hidden it in her trouser pocket.
Eventually, he would miss it and deduce it was she who had taken it. He could come after her, but she doubted it. It held no sentimental value for him, and he could easily have another made. He would, likely and rightly, see he was well clear of her.
And he would have Rafe, free from her and Doyle’s like. The boy would have the opportunity to fashion a life of his own creation. The son of a lord, no one would have power over him.
An enviable life, that one.
Midway through her stomach curls, the door between their bedrooms opened. In Jamie walked, only stopping when he noticed her on the floor. Instead of settling back on lush Aubusson carpet, she sat all the way up and crossed her legs in front of her. He didn’t take a seat in the chair, but rather lowered himself to the floor and faced her. The man looked exhausted and utterly, utterly wrung out, his face drawn, his mouth tight. The enormity of this night must be sinking in. It always happened after a job was finished. She should have warned him.
“Where is Rafe?” she asked.
“Submitting rather gracelessly to the ministrations of Mrs. Blanche.”
“And Sir Bacon?”
He gave a weary laugh. “He seemed very intent on joining Rafe in the bath.” All traces of humor faded from his face. “The lad’s naught more than dirt, fleas, skin, and bones.”
Hortense swallowed. It was painful to see the effects of squalor and deprivation up close, especially in a child. There was no preparing for it. She wrapped her arms around her shins to stop herself from reaching out and offering comfort. “Mrs. Blanche will have all that well in hand.”
“By the time I left, he’d already stuffed three shortbread biscuits into his mouth. I explained to him the biscuits weren’t going anywhere, and if we ran out, all he had to do was request more.” Jamie shook his head, disbelieving. “He couldn’t seem to comprehend the notion.”
“It will take time for him to see his new world. For him to believe in it.”
Jamie caught her gaze and held. Knowledge shone within. Her words were about more than Rafe. “And you?” he asked. “Do you believe? What would it take to gain your faith?”
Her gaze slid toward the embers of the fire. She couldn’t answer such a question, not without giving too much of herself away.
“So this is how you do it,” he said.
“How I do what?”
“Make your body so strong.”
Ah.“Every night.”
“That’s quite a discipline.”
“The last few nights, I skipped,” she confessed.
“But you felt the need to resume the practice tonight.”
They both knew what she was leaving unspoken. After tonight, she would be returning to the life that required her body to be a weapon.
“I’ll never be the biggest or strongest in a match up, but I can be quicker and smarter.”
“You’re a marvel, Amelie Hortense.”
Amelie.
