by Robyn DeHart
“I... that is not what I meant.” He climbed out of bed and pulled his trousers on. “This complicates everything. Changes everything.”
“Why?” She pulled the sheet tighter against her. “I do not require that you love me in return.”
“Because continuing this affair will only lead to hurt and destruction, and I will not intentionally do such a thing. I am not a callous bastard.”
“Of course you aren’t. I will not get hurt. Having this time with you meant everything to me. I don’t feel sad even the least.” She shook her head. “I shall never regret what we’ve shared.”
“I should never have touched you,” he said quietly.
“This wasn’t a mistake,” she assured him.
“Yes, it was. You can’t see it now, but you will someday. This”—he spread his arms about the room—”brought out the worst in me. I could have easily killed that man yesterday, Amelia. Have you considered that?”
What did that have to do with their affair? “But you didn’t,” she offered.
“What difference does that make?”
“All the difference in the world.”
“I’m capable of doing it.” His voice was tight with anger.
“And capable of preventing yourself from following through. That’s what matters.”
She stood, wrapped the sheet around her, and took two steps toward him before stopping. She wanted to go to him. To touch his arm and reassure him that all would be well. But it wouldn’t reassure him of anything. It would only further upset him.
“You didn’t kill him,” she said. “Don’t you see? You stopped yourself. And you were defending my honor, protecting me. There is no shame in that.”
He turned away from her. “It’s not enough.”
He wasn’t hearing her. She wanted to prod him more. Make him tell her why this was so unsettling. He was angry with himself for whatever happened between him and the shopkeeper. And somehow he’d concluded that their affair spurred that on. She couldn’t find the connection, but asking him would only increase the distance between them.
She reached out to touch him.
But he held an arm out. “Don’t.” He turned and headed for the door to the adjoining room. “Get your things together. We’re leaving.”
The door closed between them, and she was left standing there in nothing but a sheet. What had gone wrong? She had known he would not return her love, but she hadn’t expected him to be angry. Angry with himself, but also with her.
Was he simply mad that he’d had to defend her because she’d acted so foolishly?
He’d said, “It’s not enough,” but what he’d meant was that she wasn’t enough. Her love wasn’t enough to make him want to risk his heart.
Chapter Twenty
“The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning.” ~The Sign of Four
Colin leaned against the closed door and shut his eyes. Hell. Her profession of love had stopped his plan dead in its tracks. He couldn’t ask a woman to be his mistress knowing she had tender feelings for him. He would not be that cruel.
Especially to Amelia. She was a good woman and deserved better.
He went to his trunk and tossed everything in it, then slammed it shut. The faster they left this wretched city, the better.
He’d been lying in bed reliving the events from the day before when she’d awakened. He’d remembered the feel of his hands wrapped around another man’s throat. Yesterday, he’d wanted nothing more than to squeeze, wanted to push hard enough to cut off the bastard’s air supply.
Wanting those things terrified Colin.
He truly was the man he’d always feared he was. But it had taken Amelia’s touch to waken that demon within. She was kind and wonderful, but she brought out his darkest side. He couldn’t let her know that. But now that he recognized it, he needed to keep his distance.
He couldn’t risk damaging her any further than he already had. He knew he’d never forget their time together either. It would haunt him the rest of his life. But better that than risk hurting Amelia more.
Once they returned to London, he’d give two more weeks to this case. If he could not solve it, he’d return her father’s money and sever ties with them. It was best to allow Amelia to move forward with her life. Allow her to forget about him.
She had friends who would be there for her. And while her father was slightly off-kilter, he seemed to love her very much. She would be fine without him, Colin acknowledged.
Whether or not he’d be fine without her remained to be seen. But given how he was feeling right now, he’d never be the same.
Amelia sat quietly on the train, refusing to cry. Somehow her best intentions had had the worst effect and she felt miserable. But crying would not solve the problem and would only further convince Colin that he’d hurt her and she’d deceived him with the affair.
So she clenched her teeth and kept her eyes averted out the window. Colin had returned to his stoic, quiet self, keeping his attention firmly on the notebook in his hands. He jotted down notes furiously.
With those three little words, she’d effectively changed everything. Without him saying it, she knew he would no longer accept her help with the case. If she wanted to continue, she’d have to do it on her own. Of course, she could recruit the girls to help her. Surely there was something in her notes she’d missed. Something that would lead them to a break.
Perhaps if she could solve the case, Colin would see that she was enough. Extraordinary enough to be with him. Enough for him to forget about his fears and take a chance with her. But she doubted even that would be enough.
The entire train ride home was spent in silence. Once they arrived in London, he paid a hackney to take her home. But he said nothing to her. He barely even looked at her.
She knew he was angry with himself for defending her and threatening that man. And for whatever reason, Colin refused to see that his actions were justified. He might have hurt that man, but he hadn’t killed him. And from where she was sitting, that man had deserved whatever Colin had done to him. If she hadn’t have gotten away, there was no telling what he would have done to her. She shuddered at the thought.
And Colin was angry with her. Angry with her for loving him. She didn’t know what to make of that. There was nothing for which she could apologize. She’d known he wouldn’t return her feelings and she asked for nothing from him in return. But he could not refuse her heart; that was her decision, and her decision alone.
None of his anger was founded on any truth. He simply refused to see that at the moment. Perhaps with time she’d be able to convince him. But perhaps not.
For the time being, she’d call the girls together and see if they couldn’t help her with the case. Perhaps together they could discover the truth behind Nefertiti’s disappearance. She wanted it for her father. Wanted it for Colin. But more than all of that, she wanted it for herself. Wanted to know she had some talent in this world. Something she could be accomplished at.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Nothing clears up a case so much as stating it to another person.” ~Silver Blaze
Amelia had gotten home late the night before, and her father had already gone to bed, so she hadn’t yet spoken with him. Her heart still felt heavy and bruised from the fight with Colin, but lazing in bed all day wouldn’t solve anything.
She had things to do. Solve the case, for one. She rose, dressed, and primped quickly. Next she penned a short note to each of the girls and sent them off with a messenger. Now it was time to see her father. She’d missed him the last two days and was eager to see how he was faring.
She knocked on his bedchamber, but found only Weston.
“Oh, good morning, Weston, I was looking for my father.”
He nodded. “Yes, madam, he is in his study.” His perfectly groomed white eyebrows rose in unison.
“Indeed,” she said, and made her way to the first floor to find him. He hadn’t been to his study since the day
Nefertiti went missing. He’d spent most of his days either in their small garden or in his chambers. But now in his office—that could be a good indication.
She opened the door. “Papa?” she said.
“Amelia,” her father said jovially. He moved toward her with his arms open. This was quite different from the man she left.
“Papa, I’m glad to see you in good spirits. I take it you are feeling well.”
He smiled brightly. “I’m feeling spot on, my dear, spot on.”
Interesting development.
“Come, sit, tell me about your adventure,” he said.
Adventure—that was an understatement. And there was so much of it she couldn’t share with him. “Well, I’m afraid the journey was not very helpful. The dealer we visited was unable to offer us any additional information.” She sighed. “We have not yet found Nefertiti.”
“And that is a shame, my dear, but all will be well. We will find her someday, or we will not,” he said matter-of-factly with a shrug.
She frowned. “Papa, I’m so glad to see you more as your old self. But I must admit, I’m wondering what changed. Why is it that you’re all of a sudden feeling better?”
He patted her knee lovingly. “My dear sweet daughter, you worry so about your father. I always tell you I’m not worth your fretting. Suffice it to say your absence presented me with the opportunity to really examine my life. I have a wonderful daughter who scurried off on a train to find my statue for me. I have friends who care about me and wonder about my well-being. Why, even Lady Hasbeck—you remember her, dear, don’t you?— well, she has come by the last two days for tea. And a visit, of course. Such a dear lady.”
Amelia couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I remember her. And she’s come to visit with you?”
“Indeed. She’s most charming and we’ve had truly delightful conversations.”
“And all of this led you to the feeling that all will be well even if we do not find Nefertiti?” Had she known all it would take was a visit from Lady Hasbeck, Amelia would have fetched the lady weeks ago.
He tilted his head. “Yes and no. Frankly, I got tired of being in the same room all the time. My bedchamber does not even have a nice view from the window. I was tired of being unhappy.
“And then Lady Hasbeck came to call,” he continued. “And she brightened my day and reminded me that the world is still out there. If I want a better view, I can just as easily get up and leave my bedchamber to find it. She reminded me of something far more important, though. Oh, Amelia, I do owe you an apology. A lifetime of apologies. Ever since your poor mama left us, I haven’t been a very good father to you.”
“That’s not so,” Amelia argued.
“Allow me to finish.”
Amelia nodded.
“I was so distraught when she died, I didn’t know what to do. I foolishly clung to the one thing that reminded me of her. It was the Nefertiti statue.” He shook his head. He grabbed both her shoulders and met her gaze. Tears filled his eyes. “You are the treasure, my dear daughter. Yes, Nefertiti is valuable, but never so valuable as you. I’m afraid you’ve spent the better part of your life playing second to a token. Can you ever forgive me?”
She seized her father and pulled him into a great hug. “Of course I can forgive you.” Amelia realized her father was right. He had treated her as second to the statue, to the memory of her mother. She’d assumed it was because it was priceless, a real treasure. But, she admitted, she had worried about not being enough in comparison to the great queen. “Oh, Papa, you cannot know how much I needed to hear all of this.”
Amelia wanted to dance around the room. “I’m so very happy you’re feeling better. I was quite worried about you.”
He pulled her out in front of him and frowned. “Yes, I know. That is my fault. I was being quite selfish—I suppose that has always been the way with me—but not anymore. I want you to go off and find your life, my dear, have a family and not be stuck here taking care of your doddering old father.”
“You are not doddering. Or old, for that matter.”
“Sweet girl. Now you listen to me, you go off and do what you choose. Inspector Brindley was hired to do the job, no need to offer him any more assistance.”
That seemed an understatement. Colin wouldn’t take any more of her assistance. Would barely even speak to her. It was fine for her father to release her, so to speak, from this obligation, but now she was on a quest. She needed to find Nefertiti for her own sake.
“Surely the girls can come up with some madcap scheme to keep you busy.” He laughed heartily.
“No doubt about that,” Amelia offered.
He peeked at his pocket watch. “Ah, I must be going. I shall not be home for dinner tonight. And no need to wait up for me.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, my daughter.”
“And I love you, Papa.”
She admitted she did feel a slight release knowing that her father would not crumble if they could not find Nefertiti. Somehow he’d found the strength to go on. Not from her either. And it wasn’t that she wished he needed her, but she did have to wonder what it was she had been unable to provide him.
It would do her no good to sit around feeling sorry for herself. She’d asked the girls to meet her here and she didn’t have much time to pull all her notes together.
As it would turn out, only Willow was available that day. Meg had gotten into some trouble down at her father’s factory, and Charlotte had gone to visit an elderly aunt in the country for a few days. But Willow was Amelia’s best bet for solving this case in the first place, so she wouldn’t complain.
Currently, they sat at the dining room table surrounded by Amelia’s notes. Willow studied sheet after sheet, making notes of her own.
Amelia had pored over them again and again and she kept coming back to one thing. Monsieur Pitre. Something about him didn’t fit. He knew more than he’d let on.
Willow tossed the papers on the table and looked up. “I don’t know, Amelia. There’s not a strong lead on any of this. It’s as if you have all these spokes, but none of them connect to form a wheel. You need to find the hub that pulls them all together.” She shrugged with a smile. “Obviously you knew that already.”
“Did you find anything out of place with the information regarding Monsieur Pitre?”
“He certainly kept popping up everywhere. Do you suppose he’s your hub?”
Amelia considered the thought. “It’s possible. I’m more curious to see if he simply knows more than he’s shared. Especially about Mr. Quincy.”
Amelia looked back down at her notes, shuffling the pages around. She loved Willow and had always enjoyed her company, but working with her simply wasn’t the same as working with Colin.
She missed him. Not that it mattered. He was out of her life for good, she knew that now. But it didn’t change her feelings for him. Didn’t change her desire to be with him.
“So are you ever going to tell me?” Willow asked gently.
Amelia looked up. “Tell you what?”
“What happened in Brighton? Why you’re here working out these details with me rather than with the inspector.” She placed her hand on top of Amelia’s. “What happened between the two of you?”
Amelia bit her lip. She wanted to tell her best friend, wanted to pour her heart out and share every last detail. But she knew she was a fool and really didn’t want to admit that to her friend.
“Nothing, really,” Amelia began. “We simply didn’t agree on the best way to go about the investigation. Since he’s being paid, I stepped aside. But for my own curiosity, I want to solve the case.”
“And that’s it?” Willow prodded.
Did she lie? Was that what she was supposed to do? She hated the thought. So she tried to evade it by simply shrugging.
“Amelia, no matter what, my loyalty is to you and our friendship. I’m not going to take the opportunity and twist it, just so I can tell you that I was right, if that is what you�
�re concerned with. If you merely want to talk, I can simply listen.” Her eyes spoke complete sincerity, and Amelia knew she’d been an even bigger fool for not thinking she could trust Willow.
Willow had always been the first to tell her when she was wrong, but her dear friend also knew when to bite her tongue and lend an ear and a shoulder to cry on.
So Amelia took a deep breath, and then she recounted everything—the affair, the attack, then the fight. Willow said nothing, simply sat there quietly and listened. She offered no advice, no shocked expressions, and no disapproving shakes of the head.
Amelia finally finished, so she sat and waited for Willow’s response. Nothing came.
“Do you have nothing to say?” Amelia asked.
Willow waited a few seconds before responding. “I’m sorry you were hurt. Are hurt.”
“That’s it?” she said.
“I can understand your desire to solve this case,” Willow added, then reached over and squeezed Amelia’s hand.
There was no need for further discussion on the matter or to thank her for her understanding. Willow was a good friend, and Amelia was fortunate to have her.
“Perhaps I should pay Monsieur Pitre another visit, see if he’ll give me any additional information,” Amelia said. “What do you think?”
“That might be beneficial.”
“Then I shall go and visit him tomorrow.”
“Would you like me to come along?”
“No, I shall be fine.” It was one thing to go to an unknown antiquities shop alone, but the museum was perfectly safe. Amelia knew Monsieur Pitre. He might turn out to be a liar, but he would not harm her. He was a civilized gentleman. Further, on the off chance it wasn’t safe, Amelia couldn’t very well lead Willow into danger. And to be doubly certain she’d be safe, this time she would bring some sort of weapon.
###
Colin paced his office. Othello eyed him from his perch on the table. The cat glared; Colin was interrupting the feline’s perfectly good nap.
