They were in the carriage and on their way back to Exton Street. She told herself that at least this time they had pressing matters to discuss. The investigation was moving forward at long last. But instead of focusing on the next step in the inquiry, Benedict wanted to know what she and Marissa had talked about.
“I congratulated her on the forthcoming birth of their first child,” Amity said. “She is naturally quite excited.”
“I saw the expression on your faces when I came out of the study with my brother,” Benedict said. “Marissa told you about Eleanor, didn’t she?”
Amity looked down at her folded hands. “I’m sorry, Benedict. I know it is none of my business.”
“Of course it’s your business. We’re engaged.”
She raised her chin. “In the eyes of the world.”
“In my eyes, as well,” he said very deliberately.
“Because of last night.” She waved that aside. “Yes, I understand, but I assure you there is no need to feel honor-bound to actually marry me just because of what happened in the Gilmore stables. Indeed, I will not allow you to marry me for such old-fashioned reasons. I told you, I am not some innocent young woman who cannot take care of herself.”
“I believe I have heard this lecture before. It grows tiresome.”
She tightened her hands together in her lap. “Does it, indeed, sir? Forgive me for boring you.”
“Never mind. This is not the time for an argument. We shall save it for later. What did Marissa tell you about my engagement to Eleanor?”
Amity took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “She merely mentioned that Eleanor was quite young and that she had been pushed into the engagement by her parents, who were rather desperate to repair their finances. Eleanor abandoned you at the altar and ran off with her lover.”
Benedict smiled somewhat ruefully. “That’s about all there was to it.”
“Not quite. Eleanor was a very honest young lady. She left the Stanbridge family necklace behind. And in return you helped the young couple get established financially. It is really a rather endearing tale—except for the bit about your heart having been broken, of course.”
Amusement gleamed in Benedict’s eyes. “Did Marissa tell you that my heart had been broken?”
“No. But I know you well enough to be certain that you would never have asked Eleanor to marry you if you were not in love with her.”
Benedict exhaled deeply. “It was a long time ago and I was so much younger.”
“You are hardly in your dotage now,” Amity said.
“Thank you.” Benedict smiled slowly. “That is good to know. You’re right. At the time I certainly believed myself to be in love. Eleanor was quite pretty, very gentle and sweet. But the young man she loved was far more dashing and reckless and he read poetry.”
Amity blinked. “Poetry?”
“I don’t read much poetry,” Benedict said. “Not if I can avoid it. I prefer the latest copy of theJournal of Engineeringand theInventors Quarterly. I can assure you that whatever I felt for Eleanor went up in smoke when I realized that she did not reciprocate my feelings.”
“I see,” Amity said.
She suddenly felt a good deal more cheerful.
Twenty-three
Dr. Jacob Norcott took the last shirt out of the wardrobe drawer and dropped it into the small traveling trunk. His precious medical satchel was already packed and latched.
He was about to close and lock the trunk when he heard the carriage out in the street. He went to the window and looked down. He was relieved to see that the cab he had sent for a short time ago had arrived. Soon he would be at the railway station and safely on his way to his brother’s house in Scotland.
He turned away from the window and hurried back toward the bed, intending to close up the trunk. It was small enough that he could manage it on the stairs. He did not like to think about all of the plump fees that he would miss by taking this impromptu holiday, but there was no help for it. In any event, the money that he had received for saving the patient’s life and arranging for him to be transported quietly to Cresswell Manor again would keep him in reasonable comfort for at least a year. He would not be a financial burden on his brother.
He was halfway to the bed when his gaze fell on the letter on the nightstand. It had arrived an hour ago and was dated the previous day. Each time he read it, his pulse fluttered and a terrible sensation of dread threatened to shatter his nerves.
Sir:
This is to inform you that the patient whom you referred to Cresswell Manor some three weeks ago and who entered this hospital under an assumed name departed this establishment in the company of his mother today. I tried to discourage the lady from taking him back to London, but my advice went unheeded.
