She stepped away from him, the space welcome and allowing him to breathe again.
“Be careful, Mr. Stanton. Bitterness is a disease of its own. If you allow it to, it will take over everything.” She lifted a hand to her neck, toying with her necklace. “Ask me how I know?”
He thought back on their time together—her sunny disposition and annoyingly positive attitude. “You do not seem bitter.”
Her head jerked back a fraction, as if his question were obtuse. “I choose not to be.”
“No, you choose to play the victim and continue on in your father’s footsteps.”
“Me, the victim?” Her eyes widened. “Perhaps I should hold up a mirror for you.”
This was why he shouldn’t open up to people. They didn’t understand. And he couldn’t blame them. It was hard to walk in another’s shoes.
“I think you should leave,” he said, hands propped on his hips.
After a moment of hesitation, she gave a single nod. “Very well. Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you said you would help me,” she said, clenching a fist.
“Where would we even start?” He threw a hand out while the other wiped across his brow. “That Pratt fellow lied, and now you have to start all over. I’m beginning to think I should just cut my losses, pull my money, and be done with this whole ugly affair.”
Her eyes rose to his, and he was struck by just how lovely she really was. Yes, she drove him to insanity, but something about this woman kept him coming back against his better judgment. If only he could figure out what it was so he could cure himself of the need to constantly come back to her.
“One more night. Just give me one more night and then you can make your decision.”
He opened his mouth to answer, then tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “If I do this, you will give me the money? I can be done?”
At first, she hesitated. But then she nodded. “Yes. One more task, two nights from now, and I shall release you from my employ. I will be safe and done with my life of thievery.”
One more night. Surely he could handle one more night. How bad could it really be?
Chapter Fifteen
Leonard padded down the stairs, ready for his afternoon tea. He paused at the sideboard by the door where Fitzroy kept all their incoming correspondence. He picked the pile up, continuing on to the dining room, mindlessly flipping through them. There was an invitation to a ball at the Bambers’, a dinner invitation from family friends, the Mortons, and a letter from his father.
Taking his seat at the table, he reclined with the letter from Father as Fitzroy poured him a cup of tea. “Thank you,” Leonard distractedly said, slipping his finger beneath the familiar wax seal. It wasn’t necessarilyuncommonfor his father to write to him, though neither was it common.
Luckily, it only seemed to be an update on the estate. Father needed Leonard’s help with a few things upon his next visit, and he wanted to be sure Leonard set enough time aside to accomplish them. The end of the letter held something much less welcome. A reminder to Leonard to accept whatever invitations he received and to do his best to make himself pleasant.
And to find a wife, of course.
Leonard tossed the letter down, then picked up the two invitations. Which one was less loathsome? The ball would require him to dance, but the dinner party would force him to make conversation and exchange pleasantries. The ball he could at least hide himself somewhat in the crowd.
The Bambers’ ball it was.
After finishing his tea, he walked to the morning room where his mother’s writing desk resided. The floor gave small creaks as he walked down the hall. Before he made it, a knock sounded at the door.
Fitzroy rushed to answer it, so Leonard slipped into the morning room and took a seat at the desk. Goodness, surely it couldn’t be Mrs. Gillingham. He thought he would have a slight reprieve before she accosted him with her presence again. He distinctly remembered her saying it would be two days before their next task.
When Fitzroy walked in wearing a frown, he knew in his gut it was her.
“Mrs. Gillingham to see you, sir.” Fitzroy held the card out to him, and he almost didn’t take it. “She has an escort today.”
Leonard narrowed his eyes, hardly believing it. She was not one to care about propriety.
“She is in the entry. Shall I bring her in?”
