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He tried to quell the panic that rose within him at her statement. It had almost killed him to wait one week, and now that he was in London, he didn’t want to wait a moment longer.
“Is she at Catherine’s home? Please tell me they’re in residence here and not at their country seat.” He turned to look at the tall clock that stood in the corner of the room, wondering if he could head out again tonight.
“No, she’s not there either. She isn’t staying with us. She’s staying with your solicitor, Mr. Markham. Apparently she thought it would inconvenience us to stay here.”
John didn’t hold back his slight snort at the ridiculous thought. Louisalovedmothering people. She’d never be put out by having Amelia stay with her and Overlea.
“Tell me she left the address. I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow to call at his office.”
“Of course. I’ll fetch it for you.”
She left the room and was back a minute later, but every second of delay felt like an eternity. He’d begun pacing again while he waited.
He took the folded piece of paper she handed him and glanced at the address. It wasn’t nearby, but he was relieved that it was in a respectable area of town. He gave his head a slight shake. Of course it was. Markham wouldn’t live in one of the unsavory areas.
“Say something,” Louisa prodded when he’d been silent for too long.
He opened his mouth to do just that, then closed it again. Finally he said, “I don’t know what to do.”
“What you need to do is find that woman and tell her that you love her. That you’re done acting like a stubborn fool.”
He wanted to protest, but his sister had always possessed an infuriating talent for being in the right. It was one of the things that used to annoy him to no end.
“I accused her of using me.” He laughed, the sound bitter to his own ears. He shook his head. “I need to go to her.”
Louisa smiled at him, fondness evident in her gaze. “Don’t let me keep you any longer.”
He took a step toward the door, then turned back to her. He pulled Louisa into a quick hug, one which she returned with a fierceness he wouldn’t have thought possible.
When he released her and took a step back, she shooed him away. “You mustn’t tarry on my behalf. We can speak again later.”
He dropped a kiss on her cheek and strode from the house. He needed to find his future wife and beg her forgiveness for ever doubting her.
Chapter 37
With nothing to dosince arriving in London, Amelia devoted herself to finishing her book. She’d gone through all the notations she’d made where the hero of her novel was too similar to John and changed them. The book was finished, but the manuscript was riddled with areas where she’d crossed out entire passages and inserted spare pages with the text that would replace those scenes. Then came the task of copying the final version in preparation for submission to a publisher.
But she hadn’t changed the opening scene, when the heroine was threatened with assault at the tavern where she was working as a barmaid and the hero jumped in to rescue her. That scene was vital to the entire plot. Other than John’s two friends, who’d been present when she had first met him, no one would realize the events depicted in that scene had actually taken place.
She spent her days completing the task of copying the pages, allowing herself to get pulled into her heroine’s story and all the struggles she faced. She tried not to think about what would come next. The idea of sending the manuscript to a publisher and having it accepted was her dream, but she wasn’t ready to take that step. Not until she and John could reconcile. She wouldn’t even dwell on the possibility that the book could be rejected.
As she did every day since her arrival in London, she forced herself to rise early and have breakfast with Mr. Markham. She could have stayed with one of John’s sisters—both had offered her a place in their homes—but she couldn’t help but worry that John might change his mind about marrying her.
The kindly solicitor departed for his office at the customary hour, leaving Amelia to return to her bedroom and continue her work. Sighing, she sat before the dressing table she’d turned into a desk, picked up her quill, and prepared the tip with care. Copying over a manuscript was tedious work, made only worse when she hurried and left a smear of ink on the page since she’d have to start over with a fresh page and copy the words anew.
As she had every day since arriving in town, Amelia wished she’d been able to bring Mrs. Brambles with her. But the cat had never liked being confined during carriage rides, and so she’d left her at the estate where she was no doubt happy basking in John’s company. She knew very well how the cat felt and wished she, too, was back in Yorkshire with the two of them. Pushing back her doubts about the future, she dipped her quill into the inkwell and continued from where she’d left off the day before.
It was late when Mr. Markham returned. He called out a greeting as he passed her bedroom before heading to his room to change for dinner. With a sigh, Amelia set aside her work and made her way downstairs to wait for him.
She had just reached the front room when a knock at the front door had her pausing. Curious, she waited for the butler to answer the door. She didn’t know why, but something within her knew who it would be.
The front door swung open, and her heart threatened to stop when she saw John standing there.
She drank in the sight of him. His pale hair was disarrayed, reminding her of long, languorous nights spent together. Their gazes met and held, his gray eyes dark as though a storm brewed within them.
His clothing hung loose on his large frame, and she realized he’d lost weight even though they’d only been apart one week. It appeared he’d been as miserable as she, and her heart soared with hope. It took an inordinate amount of effort not to fly into his arms.
She told Markham’s butler that John could enter and then moved into the front room. The sound of his steps on the wooden floors told her he followed. She turned and faced him, her throat dry.
