“No, of course not! I think such terrible experiences affect one, in ways we do not understand.”
“Then do not presume to tell me, my dear Amaranth, that I cannot court you.”
She huffed. “I will not then, but… This earldom was unexpected for you, Miles. You must think on the implications of all this before one of us is hurt. You m-may come to realise that such feelings that you talk of just cannot be. I could never accompany you on voyages, and if you went without me, it would break my heart; if you stayed because of me, it would break my heart also. So please, just think on it for a few days and you might see the truth of the matter.”
His gaze was still fierce but she held his storm-laden eyes, till at last he stood.
Then he bent slightly and cupped her chin. “I will return, Verity.”
Her eyes smarted. “You are an earl of consequence now, Miles. An aristocrat of theTon. Do not forget that.”
A most un-earl-like scowl. “I wish I was still a damn soldier and if I could renounce this bloody earldom, I would.”
“No, Miles, you would not.” She gave a faint smile. “You would never abandon your estate tenants, household and labourers. You will be the best of earls.”
His head bowed low before he exhaled, straightened and headed for the door.
Verity sank back into the pillows. Exhaustion and sadness overwhelmed but with it, a sense of…lightness. For whatever may happen now, she was freed from her secrets. And she could brace herself for the inevitable moment when he came to the same realisation – that it could not be.
As Miles reached for the handle, he turned, regard unwavering.
“And by the same manner, Verity Seymour. This earl will never abandonyou.” Before he quietly left the room.
25
A DRAM IS GOOD COMPANY
Anight without moon had descended upon London, the faint glow of streetlamps casting indistinct shadows on the damp pavement. As Lupin trotted down Orchard Street and towards the Portman Square Mews, Miles felt as restless as a compass needle struggling to find north.
His thoughts lurched from pillar to post as he recalled all that Verity had told him this evening: her terror, the asylum, those clod-headed relatives, and her reasons for forsaking him.
Lupin slowed to a walk without command and turned into the mews.
His feelings for Verity would not be denied, no matter her assertion that they could not be. He was an earl, yes, but he’d also been a soldier and when one had viewed the destruction of war, one also yearned to create something beautiful in its wake, and he wished for nothing more than to court Verity anew, to know if they could still create that something beautiful together. A continuation of what had begun when young.
Miles’ steadfast horse had come to a halt on the cobbles outside the stables where a lantern glowed from above the double doors left open for them, so he dismounted, roping the reins over Lupin’s head. Surely he could persuade Verit–
“C’tain! Get down!”
A crack of pistol.
Air rushed at the back of his neck as he crouched and his horse skittered, hooves clattering, the shot echoing down the narrow mews alley.
Miles wrenched his own pistol from his greatcoat and scrambled for cover, saw Lynch, a finger stabbing to the far end of the mews as he tugged the horse into the stables and safety.
Swivelling on his haunches, Miles yanked out a second pistol but all was pitch, the night ink blotting out all evils.
“Just a shadow,” hissed Lynch from the stable door. “But I heard the cock of a pistol.”
Miles cursed; he’d been caught off guard, dreaming like a bloody schoolboy. With a flick of head to his comrade, they peeled to opposite flanks of the mews, melding into the shadows as they advanced towards the far end. More in hope, of course, as the jackanapes would have scarpered as soon as the shot had blasted off.
The western end of the mews met Portman Street, streetlamps every fifty feet or so but he and Lynch kept to the murk. Listened.
No one.
Not even a–
Footfall. Rapid. Breath sawing in and out and Miles spun, held his pistol aloft, cocked…
