“My lady, that is quite enough,” Reginald said, far braver than I. “Estelle, we should go.”
Augusta shot a worried glance my way. Right when I had a glimpse of happiness in sight, everything had fallen apart. I swallowed and faced Lady Camden. “I am sorry for deceiving you. That was very wrong. And I thank you for the hospitality you have shown me.” I curtsied, low and deep.
When I stood again, Lady Camden had her handkerchief to her mouth. There was sorrow in her eyes—unforgivable pain that I could never understand. A wave of sympathy passed over me. It would be all too easy to hate her back for her unkindness, but I could never do that. I knew about Athena and could well imagine how pain had colored Lady Camden’s perspective.
I turned to Augusta. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. I—”
She shook her head, cutting off my apology. “We’re still sisters.” A firm sincerity shone through her eyes.
I threw my arms around her, tears streaming down my face. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
“Enough, Augusta,” her mother pleaded, her voice a half whisper. “Let her go.”
Mr. Barnes opened the door for us just as a man stepped up to knock. I recognized him as Atlas’s solicitor, Mr. Briggs. I had seen him once in passing, but we had never met formally. It was too bad he had traveled all this way only to discover Atlas was not here.
Maybe it was better Atlas had left. One less witness to my humiliation.
It was raining again—a downpour at the looks of it. Mr. Briggs stepped aside to let us pass. He held his coat tighter just under his collar to keep himself dry. I hurried to tie my bonnet under my chin, the high brim offering little protection from the elements, so Mr. Briggs would not have to stand outside any longer. There was no way I was requesting the use of an umbrella, though heaven knew I would need it.
“Pardon,” I said, slipping past him, eager to leave. In my urgency, I stepped poorly, and my hand caught on his gray wool coat lined with gold buttons.
“Forgive me,” I said, straightening, my face heating with more embarrassment. It seemed Mr. Briggs was able to glimpse some of my humiliation after all.
“Of course, miss,” Mr. Briggs said, his eyes kind.
At least I was leaving Atlas with a friend. I wish I was returning to a few of my own.
Reginald took my arm, and I was grateful for it. I did not think I would fall again, but I needed reassurance when everything else was tumbling down around me. We rushed to the carriage, diving inside for shelter. Nora was inside, her face grim. Fussing over my damp cloak, I heard the unsaid worry in her voice about far weightier matters. Rosemont housed more than just the people I had come to love. We were both leaving behind a piece of our hearts.
As the conveyance lurched forward, I cast one last glance at the house. Through the rivulets of rain on my window, I fancied the manor mightbe mourning with me. While part of me was happy to be reunited with Reginald, the majority of my heart ached to stay with Atlas and Augusta.
As the miles passed between us, I mindlessly reached inside my reticule, my fingers finding the familiar button. Oddly enough, I had not needed its comfort for some time. Without even realizing it, I had leaned on Augusta and Atlas for such things. Now, I was reverting to a friendless state.
No, that was not true. Even with the distance between us, I knew they would not so easily forget our time together and neither would I. Retrieving the button from inside the folds of my reticule, my eyes caught on its gold surface.
Frowning, I rubbed my thumb over it. Gold . . .
Mr. Briggs had gold buttons on his coat. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember them. An image flashed through my mind, and it sent my heart racing. A minuscule flag with an olive branch crest. The buttons were the same!
He had held his coat closed because he had beenmissinga button.
This button.
My hand flew to my throat. I had wanted to think it belonged to Mr. Long, but it was just as likely that he had ripped it off of his attacker. Good heavens. Mr. Briggs was an evil man!
No, that was wrong. He had been a kind friend to Atlas. But if the buttons were the same, he had also been the one to attack Mr. Long. Mercy! I had to warn Atlas.
That thought triggered a series of other thoughts, and they rained down on me with greater force than the torrent of nature outside the train window. It was as if I was hearing Augusta sound out each letter, spelling out the greatest clue of all.
My back straightened. “No!” I cried.
Reginald yanked his head up. “Estelle?”
Nora turned concerned eyes on me.
I ignored them, my mind sorting through everything a second time. Atlas’s confession was the key. He had been beaten—just as Mr. Long had been. Because AtlaswasMr. Long.
