It was the truth. Lucy had always known how to save herself. It wouldn’t stop him from going after her, because nothing in the world could stop him from that, but that didn’t change who she was.
How special she was.
Intriguing, kind, passionate, beautiful…
Yes, she was all those things, and so many others as well.
She was everything.
He thought of her, with her stubborn chin and those dark eyes that had held him spellbound since he’d first looked into them all those weeks ago, and something in his chest unfurled its wings and soared into sudden, glorious life.
He swallowed.
His heart. It was his heart.
The truth swept over him then—soft, like a breath from parted lips.
He was in love with her. He was in love with Lucy.
Madly so. Not friendly love, but passionate, delirious, weak-kneed love. The sort of love he’d never felt before, never imagined hecouldfeel. The sort of love where nothing would ever be right again if her face wasn’t the first thing he saw when he woke, and the last before he fell asleep.
Those mornings they’d sat together on the beach, when he’d told her his secrets and listened to hers in return. His first night in London, when he’d walked into Lady Ivey’s ballroom and found her again. Their kiss in the carriage, the trembling of her lips against his…
All that time he’d been falling, falling, falling deeper with every day that passed.
How could he not have seen it? He’d fallen in love with Lucy without ever realizing it.
When he’d held her last night, it hadn’t been just his arms wrapped around her.
It had been his heart.
That was what he should have told her this morning. He’d talked of marriage, friendship, stubbornness, obligation, but he’d never breathed a single word about love. God, it was unbearable she could be out there somewhere without knowing how much he loved her. Unbearable to spend another moment without her in his arms.
“How long ago did Mr. Jarvis leave the house?”
“A little more than an hour ago,” Mrs. Jarvis replied. “The bedchamber he locked us in looks down on the mews. I saw him leave.”
“An hour ago?” Vale frowned. He pulled his pocket watch free, consulted it, then met Ciaran’s gaze. “I was here an hour ago, Ramsey. I should have crossed paths with him.”
“Youdidcross paths, but you didn’t realize it.”
The voice came from the far end of the hallway. All of them turned toward it and watched as a man made his way to them. “Mr. Jarvis was here when you arrived, my lord.”
Vale stared at the man. “You’re the servant who answered the door.”
“Harley, my lord. The butler.” The man bowed. “Mr. Jarvis was here all morning. He ordered me to answer the door and tell you the family had left London and didn’t intend to return.”
Eloisa gasped.
“He told you to lie, you mean.” Vale had gone eerily quiet again, and he took a menacing step toward Harley. “You were ordered to lie, and you did exactly as you were told.”
Harley didn’t flinch. “I did, my lord, and I beg your pardon for it. I…didn’t like to do it, and I’ve come now to help if I can.”
Ciaran was struggling with his own anger, but giving into it wouldn’t do Lucy any good, and she was all that mattered. “Good man,” he said, stepping between Vale and the butler. “What else can you tell us? How did Jarvis know how to find Lady Lucinda? She was safely tucked up at an obscure inn in Cheapside. He wouldn’t have thought to look for her there.”
Harley turned a wary look on Vale. “My lord, you didn’t happen to go to this inn after you left here this morning?”
“I did, yes. Why would that—”
