Sixteen
HOT TEARS STREAMED down Pearl’s face. Life was cruel. A moment ago, she’d been in heaven, cocooned in warmth and love in Christopher’s arms. Now she was curled up in her cold, desolate bed with an ache, like the stab of a dagger, in her heart.
I want to court you.Marry you in a year.I want more.
His words echoed in her mind in a torturing loop. When he’d said he wanted to talk to her father—Amelia’s father—fear had punched the air out of her lungs. She should’ve told him the truth, but not after he’d made love to her so tenderly, after he’d opened up to her.
The right moment for her confession had been before he’d started to kiss her. After their lips had met, her rational thoughts had dissolved like fog in the sunlight, and she’d lost herself in him, unable to stop kissing him.
But afterwards . . . afterwards she hadn’t found the courage to tell him she’d lied to him and tricked him only to stay close to Cowasj and learn something about her father.
A new fit of sobs shook her, and she hid her face in the pillow. Despite the pain, she had to find a way to talk to him, to tell him how she felt towards him. That she wanted more, too. That she wanted to be courted by him.
There was a sharp knock on the door that made her jolt. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and staggered to the door. Christopher? Maybe she could explain or find a way to make him understand how much she cared for him.
“Chris—” She flung the door open and froze.
Mrs Armstrong sidestepped her and entered the room without waiting for an invitation. “I won’t pretend to not know where you’ve been and what you’ve done.”
Anger swept through Pearl like a hurricane. Her heart was bleeding, and guilt and shame were ripping her apart, but she had enough of this old crow.
“I demand you to leave my room immediately.” She didn’t have time or patience to endure Mrs Armstrong’s preaches.
“I have no intention to leave before I’ve talked to you, Pearl.”
“What . . .” She froze. Even her blood seemed to have turned into ice.
Mrs Armstrong tipped her chin towards the door. “I’d suggest you shut the door, if you want this conversation to stay private.”
Pearl did as she was told. With a trembling hand, she turned the knob and locked themselves in. “I’m not sure I understand.”
A scoff lifted Mrs Armstrong’s chest. “Spare me. You know perfectly well what I mean. You could’ve fooled me, if you hadn’t made a few sloppy mistakes.” She paced without taking her gaze off her. “Everything about you seemed. . . odd. The Amelia I heard about was a shy, well-mannered girl who didn’t speak much. While you were impertinent and outspoken.” She gave a shrug. “Still, rumours are just rumours, so I thought they were wrong until you said you’d been to an Anglican service, and rumour has it that Amelia Ollerton isn’t an Anglican. I sent a few wires to a couple of friends of mine in London. Amelia is Catholic, like her mother.”
Tarnation. Pearl wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. How could she have known?
“After that, guessing the rest has been easy,” Mrs Armstrong said. “Your interest towards Mr Blackmoore-Smith struck me as unusual. All those questions to the prince were strange considering that the real Amelia wasn’t supposed to know the Blackmoore-Smiths at all.”
A flare of surprise almost knocked Pearl off her feet.
“Don’t look so shocked.” Mrs Armstrong’s voice sharpened. “That day at the lake I was sick, but not deaf. I heard your conversation with the prince. Who could be so interested in the fate of the vanished Mr Blackmoore-Smith if not his daughter?” She took a step closer. “Because you’re his daughter. His wanted-by-the-police daughter.”
Cold spirals of fear coiled around Pearl. The smirk on Mrs Armstrong’s face held the promise of retribution. “What do you want?”
Mrs Armstrong stuck out her chin. “I want you to leave. Immediately. If you hurry, you can catch the last train for London, or for wherever you want to go. I don’t care as long as you leave this house.”
“Aren’t you going to call the police?” Distrust dripped from her voice. What if Mrs Armstrong was only pretending to let her go to have the police arrest her at the station?
“No,” she replied drily. “Not for now, at least. I don’t want a scandal that will inevitably involve the Ollertons and the real, poor Amelia. She’s an innocent. People have the nasty habit to embellish rumours and turn them into complicated stories, soiling good, honest girl like Amelia. And even my reputation is at stake. So leave now.”
Dash it, saved by fear of gossip and propriety. “What about Christopher?” The question was more addressed to herself than to Mrs Armstrong.
“As if you cared.” She huffed again. “You came here to do who knew what, maybe to rob Lord Lyons as you robbed all those people with your father’s help.”
“I didn’t—”
“I doubt you’re going to miss him. Pack your things and go.”
Pearl’s knees weakened. If she stayed, the police would arrest her, and she wouldn’t have the chance to explain anything to Christopher. But if she left, she wouldn’t see him again, anyway, and he’d think the worst, that she’d fled because she didn’t want to be near him, because she didn’t love him.
