He snorted at that. “Indeed. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
Alyssa put a hand to her stomach. She was sick leaving Travell like this, but for her own sanity, it had to be done. “I’m sorry, Travell. Truly, I am.”
***
Travell stared at Alyssa as she walked across the grounds toward the waiting carriage. He willed her to look back at him, just once, with a smile or a twinkle in those green eyes to let him know she was teasing, that she hadn’t just managed to rip his heart out of his chest, but…nothing.
She climbed inside the carriage, where he watched the driver urge the horses down the drive. He had to clench his fists to keep from running after her and begging her to stay like some sort of lovesick swain. Even so, he waited until the carriage disappeared down a bend in the road, hoping that she wouldplead with the driver to stop so that she could return to him.
He shook his head. He was living in a fantasy world if he imagined that she would come rushing back to him. This was Alyssa Breyton, for God’s sake, a woman who had her own mind and knew what she wanted.
Apparently, it wasn’t him.
Feeling rather despondent, he walked inside with a frown etched into his brow, perhaps permanently.
Without any particular destination in mind, he bypassed the conservatory, which would only remind him of Alyssa and cause him to hunt for the brandy, and went upstairs to his father’s chamber. While the bonds had been removed, Lord Trenton was still confined to his room unless he had an escort. A footman was also charged with standing watch outside at all times to ensure that the earl didn’t wander off.
Travell nodded to the servant, who stood at his approach. “I’ll take over for a while,Stuart.”
“Very good, my lord.”
The footman departed and with a deep breath, Travell entered his father’s room. Each time he passed over the threshold, he expected to find his sire in one of his former fits, shouting and cursing about poison, but ever since Mr. Lyridon’s treatments, he’d been rather calm, almost docile.
The older man was dressed in buff trousers,awhite shirt andabrown embroidered waistcoat, seated at a table and piecing together a jigsaw puzzle of the map of England. He appeared confused, but when he glanced up and spied Travell, his vision cleared. “Ah, m’ boy!” Travell wasn’t sure if his father still thought he was in short pants, or if he just wanted to act as a doting parent again. Either way, Travell didn’t mind. “I can’t seem to get this piece to fit in anywhere! Damned English sea. All the same color blue!” he huffed.
Travell smiled as he drew closer anddraggedthe chair from across the other side of the table to sit next to his sire.He studied the pieces that the earl still had laid out, and after a moment, he picked up the right piece and slid it into the hole.
Lord Trenton sat back in his chair. “Marvelous,” he breathed. “I’ve been studying that design for the past quarter hour, and here you come and find the right fit almost immediately. But then, you always were good with figuring out certain problems.”
“Not everything,” Travell murmured as he mirrored his father’s pose and leaned back in his chair. “Women, for instance.”
“Oh, well,” Lord Trenton grumbled. “When you get an answer to that one, let me know. They are a more intricate design than anything John Spilsbury might have invented.” He waved a hand to indicate the incomplete map before him.
Travell wasn’t sure how far to push his father’s memory, but Mr. Lyridon had told him that as long as he didn’t get too flustered, it was safe to start breaking down the walls holding his past in place. “I thought you would know everything about the female mind, what with juggling a wife and a mistress at the same time.”
“A mistress?” The earl blinked several times, but his eyes remained clear. “Many men of my acquaintance chose to have their fun on the side, but I never cheated on Amelia. She was the love of my life.”
Travell’s fingers tightened on his thighs. “What about Sophie, the scullery maid that you ran off with the night of Triana’s debut?”
“Sophie?” This time his vision glazed over for a moment. “She wasn’t a servant. She was a spy.”
“A spy?” Travell’s brows lifted to his hairline. This was a word he was quite familiar with, and yet, it didn’t match the same story his father had spun to Alyssa the day he’d attacked her. “For who?”
The earl shrugged. “I don’t know.” He smiled and returned his attention back to the puzzle, and Travell could tell he was slipping back into his own mind, so he decided to drop the subject. He didn’t want to push him too far, and with that bit of information, it was enough to set his own thoughts whirring.
Although one thing was clear.
Starting tomorrow, he was going to send word to one of his colleagues and start the search for Sophie.
Chapter Seventeen
Five days had passed since Alyssahad leftTravell in the gardens of Rosewood. Five days of staringlongingly out ofher bedroom window and wishing thatshe was back there, but knowing it wasn’t prudent tocontinue subjecting herself to those wickedkissesthatwere stolen around every corner.
Curled up on the window seat in her nightdress, she leaned her head against the cool glass and sighed. A new day was dawning, but since it had rained for the past five days and the clouds looked thick with moisture, she knew any hope of sunshine would be for naught yet again.At leastshe could take comfort in the fact thateach day when Daisy returned from tending to her Blue Ladies, she reported that they were continuing to thrive. Not only that, but the new mesmerist had arrived, and she believed that the earl was making continual progress.
However, when the subject of Travell would arise, the maid would merely shrug and give a similar answer each time. “He stays in his study. I hardly even see him.”
Alyssa closed her eyes. She prayed that he hadn’t turned to drink. That day she’d arrived to find him soused on brandy still tormented her. But she reminded herself that it wasn’t her fault if he chose to act in such a brooding manner. He had so much to be thankful for, if he would only open his eyes. And yet, for years she’d wished for him to see her as more than his sister’s friend, but he still closed himself off from any sort of human connection. After five days, one would think that he might have sent a message to her, at the very least, but there had been nothing but silence.
