Mr. Stubbs opened the door more tentatively than usual and then peered inside. “The trunk has been reloaded onto Lord Winterhope’s travelling carriage. Her ladyship says they are prepared to depart.”
Her ladyship. But which one? The pinched-up, cynical marchioness or Amelia?
By God, despite taking a few drams of whisky with Winterhope, Leopold could still taste her on his tongue. Her scent clung to his clothing.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Winterhope knew the truth.
And that was messed up as hell.
Winterhope had pressed, but gone on to accept Leopold’s answer.
Hell yes, he had lied! Declaring the truth would rob her of having any say in the matter. And although he’d been willing to kidnap her for a few weeks, he wasn’t about to imprison her for a lifetime.
He wanted her, but not like that.
So he kept quiet as he rose from his chair, trying to ignore the aches that had taken over his entire body.
Aches from being thrashed about in the water. From kneeling on the stone floor in his cellar.
From holding her tighter than he should have, afraid to let go.
Following the marquess into the foyer, Leopold’s heart skipped a beat.
How long would it take to forget a woman like Amelia? Was it even possible?
If he didn’t do something, he’d have plenty of time to mull that over later.
Leopold had invited Winterhope and his party to stay the night at Smuggler’s Manor. It would have given Leopold one more night. He could have basked in her light for a few more hours.
They could have talked. It would have given him time to explain. He wasn’t above begging…
Winterhope had declined, however, in case they’d been followed by any of Crossings’ men. No one knew exactly why Foxbourne had gone missing. Killed? Perhaps. But there was also a possibility that Foxbourne had threatened the duke with some form of retaliation and then gone underground. They couldn’t discount Foxbourne’s stupidity.
Until they knew Crossings wasn’t a threat to the marquess’s wife and daughter, Winterhope wanted to get them as far from London as possible. His own personal desires aside, Leopold couldn’t help but agree.
So instead, Leopold had suggested they spend the night at his inn, The Goat’s Tail. “They’re discreet and will take good care of you.” And, for one more night, anyway, Amelia would remain under Leopold’s protection.
Even if he wasn’t there.
Unless… he swallowed hard.
Leopold could ask her to stay—offer her a choice. She’d told him she was not unhappy here.
What if, contrary to everyone’s assumption, she didn’t want to leave with her mother? What if she didn’t want to return to society? Not two hours earlier, he’d allowed himself to entertain the possibility. An offer had been on the tip of his tongue…
He could spend the rest of his life making her happy.
When he stepped out of his study and saw her, however, he realized how out of reach that possibility truly was.
It was that moment at Winterhope Downs all over again. There she was, the Diamond of the Season. With her golden locks pinned in an elaborate updo, she stood tall, chin held high, looking serene and beautiful. Untouchable.
Assaulted by the shock of seeing her looking so pristine and noble again, he paused, willing her to stay back while the rest of Winterhope’s party filed through the door.
She caught his gaze, but before he could read anything into that look, she was swept away by her mother and the woman he’d been told was her maid. Leopold had no choice but to follow them outside.
Three elegant coaches, each pulled by no less than six horses, had parked in Leopold’s drive where they awaited their lofty passengers. Manservants held the doors, and steps had been pulled down.
In the waning sunlight, he watched Foxbourne’s wife—widow?—climb into the front vehicle with the assistance of two outriders. Leopold couldn’t help but remember how Amelia hadthrown herself out of his own coach, and if he hadn’t felt so desperate, he might have laughed. Instead, he fisted both hands.
