An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,27

be afraid of him. Never.

Had she been threatened by Scepter? Was that why she’d been at the masquerade? Had she been coerced into helping her brother?

“Amelia, you can trust me,” he entreated, moving to the edge of the seat to bring himself closer. “You don’t have to be afraid of—”

“I’m not afraid of you!” She forced a stiff laugh at the absurdity of that, but her reaction didn’t ease the apprehension that pulsed from her. It hovered around her as tangibly as her rose-water perfume.

“Good. Because I want to keep you safe.” His shoulders eased down under the weight of the past. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that.”

She stared at him, saying nothing. But her lips parted tentatively, as if she ached to confide in him but couldn’t yet bring herself to do it.

“But you have to help me.”

“How?”

The word was little more than a breath, yet it stirred hope inside him. “By telling me the truth. Why were you at the masquerade?”

Her hands clutched tightly at her reticule, as if physically fighting back the urge to trust him. Good Lord, he wished she would!

When she didn’t answer, he offered gently, “Let me help you.”

“As I told you last night,” she rasped out quietly but resolutely, as if attempting to convince herself as much as him, “I don’t need your help.” Yet her face darkened with that ever-present fear that he now couldn’t help but see in her, no matter how much bravery she attempted to exude. Dread, panic, apprehension, distrust—a kaleidoscope of it shone in her eyes. “Forgive my bluntness, but in my experience, when a man says that he wants to help me, what he really means is that he wants to use me.”

He sat back, her words landing like a punch. Did she mean her father? Gordon Howard certainly hadn’t hidden how he’d planned to use her as a stepping-stone into the aristocracy. Or did she mean her brother?

Pearce had no answers, but at least he could assure her, “I am not one of those men.”

“Aren’t you?” The wounded whisper emerged as pure accusation.

“No.” But the forcefulness with which he said that didn’t register any visible trust in her.

The hackney turned onto Hill Street and stopped in front of a row of terrace houses. When she glanced out the window, relief flashed over her face. She was home.

And he was out of time.

He reached across the compartment to place his hand over hers to keep her with him a few moments longer and tried not to let himself notice the way she flinched at his touch.

“Whatever’s wrong, whatever trouble you’re in, I can help you. But you can’t keep secrets from me.” Ignoring the ball of lead-like dread forming in his gut, he pulled in a deep breath and forced himself to ask, “Have you been assisting your brother with the appointments?”

Her gaze shot back to him. “Have I—” Then a shocked laugh fell from her lips as she pulled her hand away from his. “I could ask the same of you!”

He jerked up straight. “Me?”

“Frederick said that you supported the idea of putting a turnpike across our properties.” Her voice shook from the churning emotions that visibly gripped her. “He was practically crowing this morning over how excited you seemed to be about it. Said that you couldn’t wait to start.”

Bloody hell. Pearce couldn’t deny it. He’d sent her brother a message just that morning claiming exactly that—that he was interested and wanted to know more about Howard’s plans and the men who would be made trustees.

But it wasn’t for the reasons she thought, and he couldn’t defend himself without giving away what the men of the Armory planned to do. He would never betray their faith in him.

“You’re wrong about me,” he said instead, the only answer he could give.

“Oh, but I don’t think I am.” Her voice was raw and intense, just like the gleam in her eyes. “You see, unlike others in your new life as a peer, I know you. I know how restless you are, how driven…how compelled to keep moving forward. At all costs.” A slight pause, so small no one else would have noticed, yet he heard it. A world of accusation lived there. “That’s why I can’t trust you, Pearce.” The quiet fierceness with which she uttered her next words cut him like a blade—“And that is why you’re my enemy.”

Seven

Amelia watched him stiffen, surprised. And stunned just long enough for her to open the door