The fragrances of roses and lavender of her favourite perfume still lingered.
Father had brought a supply of that expensive French perfume. Her precious collection of silk scarves still hung on the wardrobe, another recent gift from her father. Doubt wormed its way through her mind. Could it be possible that Father had earned all that money illegally? He’d always said he didn’t need a reason to dote upon her with many expensive accessories and gowns. If he’d been doing something against the law, he wouldn’t have spent the money so liberally.
“Here.” She stopped in the middle of the room, her voice cold while a burning storm raged in her chest.
Christopher roamed the room with a deliberate pace. He stopped at the writing desk and opened the drawer.
The urge to tell him to stop had been so strong she had to bit her tongue to not shout. Her personal letters were in that drawer, some of them from her former lover. Not even her father knew about them.
Cowasj rummaged through the vanity, shoving aside her ribbons and hairpins.
Anger formed a hard ball on her chest. She couldn’t witness them ripping her personal items apart. So she lingered on the threshold, pretending to be interested in the paintings on the walls of the corridor. Curiosity won though, and she peeped at Christopher. An unfolded, light blue letter was in his hands. His brow furrowed as he read.
Oh, no. Notthatletter.
She remembered it. Every single word of it. Richard, her first and only lover, had described what he would’ve loved to do to her in bed. Heat spilled in her face, and her pulse thumped madly in her temple. For the first time, she was glad she was Amelia and not Pearl. She glanced at the wall, then at Christopher again.
He squirmed on the spot and folded the letter.
“These letters are old.” Christopher put them back in the drawer.
Maybe it was her imagination, but she could swear he shot her a heated glance before closing the drawer, as if he were thinking about doing those things with her. And she’d let him. Richard had been her first lover, but not her first love. It’d been an infatuation, and the chap’s kissing technique had been sloppy. Christopher’s lips knew what they were doing, which made her wonder what the rest of his body could do.
“No incriminating missive, I suppose?” she asked, to distract her mind from a vision of Christopher naked.
“Don’t play with us.” Cowasj tossed one of her scarves on the bed. “You know where Pearl is hiding.”
Technically, yes, she knew. “I assure you I haven’t heard from her in a while. I don’t know where she is.” A quivering note sneaked in her voice.
Christopher must’ve noticed it because he watched her from hooded eyes. “Is there anything you wish to tell us?”
“Your search here brought nothing.” The lack of evidence gave her courage. Father was innocent, and she didn’t know anything about the whole affair. “I don’t understand why you so obstinately insist that Pearl is guilty.”
“Why did she flee then?” Cowasj spread his arms, encompassing the room. “She left in a hurry because she knew the police were chasing her.”
“That’s a good point.” Christopher leaned against one of the bedposts. “Who warned Pearl that the police were coming? How did she know?”
No one had warned her. She was smart enough to figure out when it was the moment to flee and fight another day, thank you very much.
Cowasj’s gaze fell upon her. “A friend warned her.”
Tarnation. Her idea of pretending to be Pearl’s friend was biting her back. “I didn’t warn her. I didn’t even know her father was in trouble.”
“She’s lying.” The sharp note in Cowasj’s voice cut like a knife. “I can tell.”
“Cowasj,” Christopher growled. “Miss Amelia is my guest. I’d be grateful if you didn’t insult her.”
They couldn’t prove anything though, and they hadn’t found anything. But she couldn’t return with them to Gladstone, not after they accused her of protecting Pearl, which was true, but . . . An ache drummed in her head. She wouldn’t learn anything about her father from them. There was no point in staying in Gladstone any more. She could play Amelia’s part one last time and say goodbye to Christopher. Her heart gave a lurch at the thought. His kisses still burned on her lips, and her entire body ached for his touch. But she couldn’t keep tricking him, and she couldn’t bear being accused of being a criminal. Christopher would be furious if he learned of her ruse.
She stuck out her chest. “I don’t care what you think. I did as you asked. Now I’d like to go home.”
Christopher pushed away from the bedpost. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean my home, in London.” Oops. What if he wanted to escort her? Amelia’s parents wouldn’t be amused. “There’s no need to accompany me. I’ll hire a cab. Thank you.” She spun and ran down the stairs.
Iron fingers closed around her arm before she could reach the front door. How Christopher had moved so fast and so silently she wouldn’t know.
“Amelia.” The desperation in his voice stopped her. “Please.”
