I let out a shuddering breath. Anger burned, icy and hot in my veins. My voice shook with it. “This whole time, I was just a pawn to you. You’rea con artist, and you know how to play the game. Isn’t that basically your job description for my uncle?”
Whit rocked back on his heels, staring at me as if I were a stranger. It broke my heart, because we were slipping away from each other, and even if a small part of me wanted to hold on to him for dear life, I had to let go.
Something fractured between us. Or maybe it had always been broken.
“I trusted you,” I whispered haltingly.
Isadora came to stand next to me and pulled me gently backward. “Let’s return to the hotel, Inez.”
I nodded, still shaken, climbing into the cab as if in a hazy dream, barely noticing as my sister rearranged my bustle. When I glanced back at Whit, the reality of our situation crashed into me. Time seemed to freeze, oddly suspended as our gazes met. Mine roiling in despair, his guarded and remote. An intense and obliterating tension flashed between us.
His brother approached him, whispering something into his ear. Whit glanced away from me, as easily as if I were a mere stranger, and stared blankly in the distance.
We were over. We had to be.
The hackney cab lurched forward, and we left Whit and his brother staring after us in the dust swirling in our wake. My heart locked itself away, tight in my chest, and I vowed I would never be so stupid as to reveal any part of it to Mr. Hayes ever again.
PART TWOTHE GATE THAT MOVES
WHIT
Porter dropped his hand onto my shoulder and tugged me to his side. The gesture lasted for only a second, but I knew what it meant. Like my father, my brother wasn’t affectionate. Except when it was absolutely necessary.
Evidently stealing from one’s wife warranted a hug.
“You saved Arabella,” Porter said.
“There’s that, at least,” I muttered.
My brother arched a brow. He always did that better than me. I looked cheeky; he looked impervious. “Do you regret it, Whitford?”
My insides felt as if I’d lit a stick of dynamite, and now I was charred and hollowed out.
I glared at him. He was taller than me and thinner, but I could never intimidate him. “Father can’t go back to the gaming halls, Porter.”
My father and his obsession with cards. For years, he’d come home drunk, reeking of cigarettes and cheap perfume, his cravat undone, his head bare. He always lost his hat, and he’d have to buy another. When I was little, I used to wonder if all of his hats were together somewhere, waiting to be rescued. Most of my memories of him were of sitting at the top of the stairs to wait for him, my eyes trained on the front door, at the sliver of light that would appear when our butler—when we still had one—let my father in. I didn’t care what time he came home; I worried he wouldn’t come home at all.
But eventually he would, and the next day, he was the proper gentleman, strict and unfeeling, his stiff upper lip never wavering. Disapproving of what I said or how I behaved. And the only way I knew how to bear his recriminations was to pull myself far enough away so that I didn’t feel anything at all. But on the nights he won, the next day he was joyful, downright radiant.He’d take his sons for a ride, his daughter for a promenade in Hyde Park, our mother to the theater.
But his luck didn’t last. I learned to keep a part of myself hidden during the rain, but especially when the sunlight shone.
“I’ll make sure of it,” Porter said. “I won’t give them the money unless I have it in writing that he won’t gamble. I’ll tear up the marriage contract and set Arabella up with a dowry neither of them can touch. I’ll manage the repairs on the house so the roof doesn’t fall down on our sister’s head.”
I shuddered. In my family, my siblings were the only people I could trust. If Porter said he’d take care of something, he would. He ought to be my father’s heir. It was ridiculous he wasn’t, all because of a marriage they’d forced him into.
“I’m leaving today,” Porter said. “Come with me.”
My expression shifted, and my brother stiffened. Anger bled out of me. I’d made a commitment to Inez; I’d given my word. I wouldn’t desert her, not after marrying her. I meant every word of my vows until she said otherwise.
“There’s nothing for you here.”
“How aboutmy wife?”
“Do you still have one?”
Her look of devastation had seared itself into my brain. I ruthlessly shoved it aside and considered my brother’s question. If I were her, I would run as far from me as I could. But unfortunately for Inez, I could help her in a way no one else could. Whatever skills I had, I’d use them for her. At the present moment, our interests were aligned.
We were both looking for the same person.
