When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,109
Reggie was standing with his hand on Sam’s shoulder, Daisy still in the boy’s arms.
She turned away from the sight and screwed her eyes shut.
She would never be whole again.
* * *
Gideon watched the carriage pull away from Whispers House, taking with it Messalina and his heart.
He bowed his head, leaning his forehead against the cold glass.
He needed her.
Like air. Like water. Like bread. She was essential to his survival.
And he’d never see her again. The thought made his chest freeze for a painfully long minute.
He straightened, turning away from the window. He had business to attend to. Things that must be done.
He wouldn’t think of Messalina. He couldn’t think of Messalina now. Better instead to attend to business. That way he might never notice his mortal wound.
Gideon blew out a breath and left the room, running down the stairs.
Outside, the sun was hidden by clouds, giving the day a grayish tinge. Gideon began walking rapidly, making plans in his head, trying to expect any eventuality. Though of course that was impossible.
By the time he made the nondescript inn, his palms were sweating, but he knew this was the only way.
The only way left to him.
He opened the door to a taproom being swept by a yawning maid. She gave him the direction easily enough, and he climbed to the upstairs rooms.
The barmaid had said the third door on the right. He rapped.
There was no answer, though the room was supposed to be occupied.
Gideon shook his knife down his sleeve and into his hand. If he’d come too late…Well.
He knocked again, louder this time.
He wrenched at the door, yanking it violently open.
Julian Greycourt stood there, in shirtsleeves and breeches, barefoot and with his long, black hair loose down his back.
He held two pistols, and they were both pointed at Gideon’s chest.
* * *
Sometime past noon Messalina leaned against the window of the carriage, aware that Lucretia was staring at her.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” her sister asked hesitantly.
Which was ridiculous. Lucretia was never hesitant.
Messalina’s head felt too heavy to move. “He was planning to murder our brother. I think that’s quite unforgivable, don’t you?”
“Well, it certainly would be if Gideon intended to go through with it.” Lucretia paused, obviously trying to hold her opinion in, but then blurted, “But he said he wasn’t.”
Messalina could argue the point, but what was the use? Lucretia knew the reasons she’d made her decision.
It was all so useless.
“At least think about it again,” Lucretia urged anxiously. “We don’t have to make any decisions right away. Goodness, it’ll probably take weeks to arrive at Kester’s country estate. Always assuming we aren’t caught by Uncle Augustus first.”
Messalina simply closed her eyes instead of replying. She didn’t want to think about her uncle, and she wasn’t going to change her mind about Gideon. It had been hard enough to leave him—it had felt like tearing parts of her flesh off. She wasn’t going to go through that again.
There was a rummaging sound, then Lucretia muttered, “Hicks said he’d packed us some lemon curd tarts. Do you think he was lying to make me feel better? Because thinking there are tarts and then finding there aren’t is far worse than having none at all. What’s this?”
Messalina opened her eyes and saw that Lucretia was holding a leather envelope. She shrugged. “Keys handed it to me before I met you in the hall.”
“And you didn’t open it?” Lucretia gave her a sharp look.
Messalina closed her eyes again. “I didn’t see the point.”
“Humph.” Lucretia unfolded the envelope’s flap. “Papers, papers, this handwriting is nearly illegible…”
She fell silent.
Messalina wondered if she’d bother to get out of the carriage when they stopped for luncheon. She seemed to have lost all appetite for food.
Lucretia exclaimed, “Good God.”
“What?” Messalina asked listlessly.
“He’s given you over half your dowry with a promissory note for the other half when he obtains it.”
Messalina raised her head. “What?”
Lucretia was staring at her. “I thought Gideon married you for your money?”
“He did,” Messalina said dumbly.
Lucretia snorted. “He doesn’t seem particularly interested in it if so.”
“Let me see.” Messalina snatched the document from Lucretia’s hand, swiftly reading it. But it was merely a dry legal statement of what Lucretia had already said. “I don’t understand.”
Across from her Lucretia said, “That’s odd.”
“What is?” Messalina asked absently.
“There’s a necklace in here.”
Messalina looked up.
Gideon’s farthing pendant swung from Lucretia’s fingers.
“What a strange little thing,” her sister was saying. “Whyever would one string a farthing for a necklace?”