“Do not mistake pride for strength, dearest. Forgiveness requires as much, and perhaps even more, fortitude. While only you can judge whether you wish to forgive, I will say that when there is love—love that is devoted and passionate and true”—Amara gave a graceful shrug—“nothing else matters.”
Charlie swallowed. “I wish it were that easy. But thank you for the advice.”
Amara kissed her cheek. “Tea, my dear.Verysoon.”
Charlie and Jack decided to return to her residence to plan their next steps over luncheon. During the carriage ride back, he admired the pen Amara and Gilbert had given him. It was a fine piece, to be sure, fashioned of filigreed brass. What made the Quintons’ design special, however, were the lock picks secreted inside the barrel.
“Devilishly clever,” Jack muttered over and over again.
Amused, Charlie watched her lover play with his new toy all the way home.
Upon arrival, to avoid being seen, they entered through the back gate and crossed the courtyard toward the main house.
She gestured at the carriage house as they passed it. “When we have time, I will show you the training quarters I designed for the Angels.”
“I saw them.”
“When did you…oh.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You had time for a tour during your break-in last night?”
“I like to get a lay of the land.” He smirked. “A cartographer’s prerogative.”
She snorted as she led the way through a side door that took them into the main house. She nodded at passing servants, who curtsied and bowed and didn’t blink an eye as she brought a strange man through.
“Your staff is exceptional,” he murmured as they ventured down a corridor to the front of the house.
“I choose those whom I allow in my personal sphere with care. I met most of my staff through the work of my society, and some of them have been instrumental to the Angels. My previous butler and housekeeper taught me and the ladies combat and other useful skills. I wish you could have met them,” she said with a touch of wistfulness. “You would have liked Mrs. Peabody. And you and Hawker would have got on like a house on fire.”
Jack cocked his head. “Why did they leave?”
“They fell in love.” Charlie smiled. “Hawker, as it turns out, inherited the duchy of Ryedale. Now he and his duchess are managing their estate in Yorkshire.”
As they reached the antechamber, Jack said with wry humor, “Only you would have a duke for a butler?—”
He was cut off by familiar voices and footsteps approaching the front door. A key turned in the lock, and the door opened before Charlie could warn him. In the next instant, Glory, Livy, Fiona, and Pippa stormed in like avenging angels.
Twenty-Six
“Charlie, youreye,” Fiona gasped.
“What happened?” Olivia asked.
“Mr. Devlin was right,” Glory said in ominous tones.
“Who is he?” Pippa whispered, pointing at Jack.
“Ladies.” Charlie tried to rein in the situation. “To what do I owe this unannounced visit?”
“We never announce ourselves. We just show up.” Brow furrowing, Livy held up the key that Charlie had given all the Angels. “Your policy has always been that your home is ours, and we are to come and go as we please.”
“Perhaps we ought to rethink that policy,” Pippa said under her breath. “It appears Charlie has company?—”
“We were worried,” Glory burst out.
Ferdinand the Ferret II was curled around her shoulders, and when she spoke, he lifted his furry white head, his whiskers twitching.
“Mr. Devlin told us you were hurt and some strange fellow”—Glory narrowed her hazel eyes suspiciously at Jack—“showed up last night, claiming he was your acquaintance.”
At least Devlin had omitted the part about Jack claiming to be her husband.
