to make my argument to keep it.”
“Intent is worthless under the law. That agreement wasn’t signed by both parties, and that was what allowed him to steal all your money. That’s what all the lawyers I hired told us when we tried to retrieve your money, remember? Every last one of them.” He crossed his arms and glared down at her, the look of a prefect scolding a misbehaving student. “You were impetuous and acted without thinking, and we’re suffering because of it.”
With a scowl, he grabbed up the papers she’d tossed onto the floor and shoved them back into the tallboy, then picked up the key from the floor and locked all the drawers. Instead of putting the key back into his desk, he slipped it into his breast pocket.
Guilt began to rise in her throat—
No. He wouldn’t make her feel awful this time, as he always had before. She wouldn’t let him.
Pearce was right. She’d gone into her marriage with love, and the lies and treachery Aaron committed were not her fault. She could never have foreseen what he’d planned. No woman could have. She wouldn’t blame herself any longer.
Now, she would take back the life she’d been cheated out of.
“I found something else.” She held up the other document. The contract Freddie had made with Aaron. “What is this?”
Frederick took it and heaved out a sigh as he glanced over it. “Nothing to concern yourself with.” He added in an irritated mutter, “Like every other document in this cabinet that you have no right to rifle through.”
Despite his anger, she held on to her resolve and pressed, “You paid Aaron five hundred pounds. Why?”
“I don’t remember. That was so long ago. I’m sure I had good reason.” He shoved it into his jacket breast pocket. “But you’ve nothing to fear about Bradenhill, I assure you.” With a pleased smile, he crossed to the liquor tray and poured himself a glass of cognac from the crystal decanter. “Aaron Northam won’t be able to take your land, and he won’t be able to stop the trust now either. No one can.”
Alarm twisted in her belly. “What do you mean?”
“Sandhurst finally agreed. Told me himself just this afternoon at Boodle’s.” He returned the stopper with a soft clank, punctuating the significance of the moment. “Wants to push it through as quickly as possible, in fact, before the current session of Parliament ends.” He lifted the glass to her in a toast. “Congratulations, Amelia. We’ve got our turnpike trust.”
Her breath hitched. Pearce agreed? Impossible. He said they were together in stopping it, in discovering who was behind the blackmail. He would never have agreed without consulting with her first…would he?
Shame heated her cheeks, and she silently castigated herself for doubting him. She’d questioned Pearce’s love for her for so long that even now her first reaction was distrust.
But she wouldn’t let suspicion win. Not this time. He loved her, he wanted to protect her, he wanted to marry her… That was where she’d put her trust now. In Pearce’s heart.
If he’d agreed, he had good reason. Yet he’d done so without her when they were supposed to be working together. She couldn’t help a prick of betrayal in her belly.
“It’s all gone exactly as planned.” Frederick took a long swallow of cognac, as happy as the cat who’d caught the mouse. “Now the blackmail threats will end, and my career will be saved.” He gestured at her with the glass. “Your future as the sister of an MP is secure, society matrons will continue to cross the threshold of your little shop, and you don’t have to pretend to like Sandhurst any longer.”
“No.” She gave him a smile, one Freddie completely misread. “I don’t have to pretend to like him.”
He finished the cognac and set the glass down. “I’m going out to a club meeting and taking Sandhurst with me. I’ll be certain to tell him how happy you are about the trust.”
“No need.” She fought to keep the irony from her voice. “I’d be happy to tell him myself how I feel about it, the first chance I have.”
“I’ll be gone all night, most likely not back before dawn.” He sauntered from the study. “Don’t wait up.”
Twenty-one
“Are you sure about this?”
“Not at all.” Pearce flicked his gaze at Merritt Rivers in the dressing mirror as his man McTavish fussed with his cravat. The old camp aide turned valet knew practically nothing about dressing a gentleman, but Pearce hadn’t hired him