The Blood of a Baron - K.J. Jackson Page 0,28

cruelest part of it all. The fact that I did it to you, hurt you far more than I could even imagine—that was the cruelest part. The thought of you suffering. That is the part that still burns in my soul.”

For as still as he had been, for his stare that hadn’t veered off of her since she started talking, his right hand finally twitched alongside his thigh. Fingers curling almost into a fist before they stretched straight.

His lips parted, a sigh mixing with the one word he managed. “Laney—”

“No. You don’t have to say anything, Wes. You never did. Your hatred is just and this momentary truce is just that. A fleeting lapse in all the malice you have every right to.” Her shoulders lifted, a frown deepening on her face. “This is what I live with. This is why I’m alone. I deserve it. I deserve every moment my heart hurts, beating hollow for the emptiness. I deserve the silence surrounding me at night. The darkness that swallows me every evening that I lie in bed with my eyes wide open, praying for sleep. I deserve those moments when I read something funny and I look up smiling, and there is no one around to share it with and my smile fades and my throat clenches so tight I cannot breathe. I deserve it. I deserve all of it.”

Silence.

Silence until the music across the way started again, wafting through the air down to them, filling the silence.

Her head dipped, unable to take his stare any longer.

She took one trembling step toward him, then another. By the third step, her feet had found balance and she stepped around him, picking up the box and moving toward the rear door of his townhouse.

The truce wasn’t going to change the reality around her, as much as she had fallen under its spell the previous night.

Wes hated her. She was alone.

She had to remember that.

{ Chapter 12 }

An amused crook at the corner of his mouth, Wes watched Laney staring down at Mr. Filmore’s clerk standing behind his desk. Her lips twisted as though she was stifling the urge to scream but only barely succeeding. “What do you mean he is not present?”

“Mr. Filmore is not in the building, my lady. He hasn’t been for the last two days.”

Her gloved knuckles tapped onto the desk in front of the clerk, her reticule holding the Box of Draupnir swinging from her wrist and clunking onto the wood. “Well, when will he be present? I have urgent business with him.”

The lad shriveled, his shoulders curling at the exasperation in her voice. “I do not know when exactly he will return, as he sent word the day before he would be absent yesterday and part of today. He didn’t say why. Urgent business must have taken him away from London. He has several clients currently in the nearby countryside, so it is possible that is where he is. If anything, he should be due back this afternoon.”

“But—”

Wes grabbed Laney’s elbow, finally taking pity on the misery of the clerk. As much as he enjoyed watching Laney battle adversity, he couldn’t have the young whelp quitting his post before Mr. Filmore returned and Wes’s business with the solicitor was complete. “Come, Laney. I’m sure Mr. Filmore will arrive back in a short amount of time.” He looked to the lad. “You will send word to my residence when he arrives?”

The clerk’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, of course, sir.”

Laney’s head swiveled toward Wes. “He knows where you live? You’ve done business with Mr. Filmore?”

Wes shrugged. “A limited amount.” He tugged on her elbow, pulling her from the desk and the cowering clerk.

They stepped out into the daylight where odd streaks of sun poked through the cloud cover and Wes looked about the street.

He pointed in the direction of the Thames. “St. James Park is only a short distance past parliament and the river, perhaps we should walk through there on our way to my townhouse. The open air will do you good.”

Her lips pursed as she looked over her shoulder at the front window of Mr. Filmore’s place of business. As admirable as her glare was, it wouldn’t make Mr. Filmore appear for her.

This was supposed to be easy. Let Laney find the Box of Draupnir. Have her deliver it to Mr. Filmore.

Done.

Her problems solved. His problems solved.

The plan had been fairly well concocted. Except that Mr. Filmore was supposed to be here in London