Theodosia.
She’d betrayed him.
His silent fury blasted into her like a fireball. “Roman, you don’t under—”
“I do understand, Miss Worth.”
She watched contempt blaze into his eyes as he continued to stare at her. But his loathing did not grieve her as deeply as the profound pain she saw there as well.
She rushed toward him, desperate to allay his suspicions.
He walked straight past her and stopped at the door, which remained wide open. “I met a man this afternoon who offered me a job down in Morgan’s Grove. I came in here to get the rest of my things because I’m leaving Enchanted Hill.”
Shock flew through Theodosia. She grappled for the top of the dresser to steady herself, then started toward him again.
He gave her a look that expressed his every feeling.
She stopped, suddenly comprehending how his enemies felt when confronted by the stark look of danger he was capable of presenting. It was frightening enough to stop a heartbeat.
Satisfied that she understood his silent warning not to cross him, Roman left the room and closed the door behind him.
“Theodosia, what happened?” Hammond asked, feigning total confusion. “Mr. Montana appeared rather irritated.” He walked to where she stood and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Theodosia?”
She couldn’t answer. Panic gripped her as if with crushing fists.
“Theodosia, what—”
“I have to stop him,” she whispered. “I have to stop him!” She threw herself toward the door and grabbed the doorknob.
She pulled, pushed, and pounded it, but it would not budge. “Hammond, help me with the door!”
“Of course.” He ambled to the door and took a moment to examine the knob. Slowly, he curled his fingers around it and gave it a few token jiggles. “I cannot understand why the hotel management has not repaired—”
“Hammond, please!”
For a full ten minutes, Hammond made a great show of trying to force the doorknob to turn. “Theodosia, I am afraid we are imprisoned in this room.”
She began to bang on the door with her fists. “Someone open the door! Is there anyone out there? Someone open the door!”
It seemed to her that all of eternity passed before the hotel manager finally arrived and opened the door. “Miss Worth,” he said, “I’m sorry I forgot to fix—”
“Which room does Roman Montana occupy?” she demanded.
“Mr. Montana? He was in room eight, but my wife checked him out about fifteen minutes ago.”
Theodosia raced out of the room, ignoring Hammond’s shouts for her to stop. When she reached the end of the corridor, she dashed down the stairs, hastened through the lobby, and ran into the street. Frantically, she scanned the town. When she didn’t see Roman anywhere, she ran to the livery.
There she found her wagon and her own horse.
But Secret was gone.
“I have a surprise for you,my dear.” Sitting beside Theodosia on a bench in the town’s sunny rose garden, Hammond patted the top of her hand and utilized every speck of the gentlemanly behavior that had been bred into him.
Inside him, however, dwelled an ever-growing impatience. Theodosia had refused to allow him back into her room last night after Roman Montana had left town, and she had remained in her room until well past noon today, pining away for the ignorant gunslinger.
But Hammond felt positive that if she would only allow him to perform the services for which she’d chosen him, she would forget Roman Montana’s very existence. He prided himself on his sexual prowess. Indeed, none of his three mistresses in London ever had cause to complain.
Theodosia wouldn’t either, he vowed. Oh, she’d explained what the intimate nights would entail, and although he’d said nothing at the time, he had no intention of following her rules.
