“What truth is that?” Max’s chest tightened, his breath drawing short.
Summerset stared at him, his blue eyes losing their superciliousness. They reminded him of Colleen’s, and Max shrugged away that uncomfortable thought. “You’ve never cared about a woman’s next partner before,” Summerset said. “Once done, you wish a woman merry and go about your day. But not with this one. What’s changed?”
His friends waited for his response, all bearing silent witness.
Max opened his mouth. Shut it. He shook his head. “So, I care about her. What does that matter? She …” She hadn’t led a blameless life? She hadn’t conformed to his perfect ideal of a woman? In defending her from Summerset’s attacks, Max was reminded of how grand a woman his Colleen was. One error in judgment didn’t change the rest of her character.
Digging his fingers into his scalp, Max groaned. “Christ, I’m an idiot.”
“We already knew that,” Summerset said. “We want to know if you actually”—he wrinkled his nose—“love that woman?”
Max flopped onto the settee and dropped his head onto the backrest. He stared at the trompe l’oeil of the sky painted on the ceiling. An emotion as lauded as love shouldn’t feel like this. Like his heart had been ripped from his chest, shredded to small pieces, and shoved back inside the cavity to rot. Like each day of his life would be a misery if it didn’t start with Colleen lying beside him.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Summerset swore. “I’ve lost another one.”
Ignoring him, Max looked to his two friends who knew something. “What do I do? I sent her away.”
Montague tilted his head. “To your club? Hardly the far side of the world.”
“But what I said …” He’d been so cold to her. Had locked down his emotions. Didn’t let the hurt in her eyes sway him from his course. Guilt gnawed at him.
“We all know you’re not perfect, either.” Rothchild knocked Max on his shoulder. “She’ll have to do some forgiving of her own.”
Max nodded, his resolution firming. He was a determined man, used to getting his way. Colleen was a proud woman, however. He swallowed, his throat going thick. Earning her forgiveness wouldn’t be easy.
But he’d do whatever it took. Colleen might not be perfect, but she was perfect for him. He’d been a fool to ever think otherwise. Catching Zed was the second most important thing he had to do that night.
Sliding to the edge of his seat, Max rested his elbows on his knees. “Let’s go through the plan again. Mark out all our positions. I want this done quickly and cleanly.”
“What’s the rush all of a sudden?” Summerset asked.
“I have new plans for the evening and I can’t waste time playing around with a blackmailer.”
***
Colleen shut the lid on her borrowed valise. All of her belongings fit easily inside; she would take nothing that Max had added to her wardrobe. Sitting on the lid, she dropped her forehead to her knees. The finality of the act struck her and a shudder tore through her body.
Her time with Max was over. She needed to face that. She’d told him the truth, shown him who she truly was, and he didn’t want her.
She took one breath. Two. Each inhalation sending pain clawing through her chest. She pushed past it. She’d endured the loss of her husband and the accompanying guilt. She would endure the loss of Max.
A footman knocked on the door. Colleen rose and took the note from his hand. “Thank you.” It only took one glance to confirm its contents. “Can you take my case down?” she asked the man, pointing to where it sat on the floor. With a nod, he hefted it to his shoulder and disappeared from the room.
Colleen sat on her bed and read the note more closely. Her cousin, although terribly inconvenienced by her sudden request, would honor his duty and allow her a spot in his daughters’ bed. So long as she remembered that poor Jonny had grown another inch and required new clothes. That Julia was feeling most indisposed and would appreciate help around the house.
So long as Colleen remembered her place.
Well, there was nothing for it. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. And living under the yoke of her cousin was infinitely preferable to spending one more night under the roof of the man who’d broken her heart.
Grabbing her old coat, Colleen marched down the hall. She thought about stopping in her office, writing Max a note. But what was left to say? He would know where she was. The guards that still trailed her every step would see to that. And she couldn’t imagine Max would be anything other than relieved by her absence. She was doing them both a favor by removing herself from his presence. A favor to Max and a mercy to herself.
A guard at the bottom of the stairwell held the door open. “Where are we going, madam?”
“To Wapping. I have family there.” She swallowed down the bile in her throat. “Just give me a moment to speak with Lucy, and I’ll be ready to leave.”
She found the woman working in one of the back rooms. She was one of three girls with two male customers writhing together on the absurdly large bed of the Amethyst Room. A large crowd had gathered around the scene, and the hands of those watching were disappearing into as many unheard-of places as those of the participants on the bed. Just another night at The Black Rose.
The moans and shudders seemed to be reaching a peak so Colleen stepped back out of the room and waited, leaning against the opposite wall.
