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He exhaled, watching his breath fog instantly as it left his mouth. Delia had been right—therewasa deeper reason why he resisted the thought of falling in love so much. But being forced to remember that reason wasn’t giving him comfort to take a chance to open his heart again. In fact, it was doing the opposite.
Heneverwanted to feel that pain again.
Chapter 30
Delia walked down the stairs to the main room of the inn. She had spent the entire afternoon holed up in her tiny room, trying to read an obscure book about saints that Sister Mary Majella had lent to her. The subject held no interest for her, and the afternoon had dragged interminably. But she had been determined to avoid another confrontation with Ambrose at all costs.
She took a deep breath. Hunger was driving her out of the room now. She simply couldn’t stay in there forever. The smell of cooking food wafted towards her as she walked through the room towards the fire. None of the other coach passengers were here yet. They must have found other ways to pass the time.
She let out a small breath of relief. Ambrose wasn’t here. She was safe for now.
She settled in a chair near the fire, thinking about him, as always. His offer to make her his mistress had taken her by surprise and disappointed her greatly. As tempting as it was in many ways, she knew that it could only end in heartbreak. She was in love with him, and it would start to eat her alive if she became his lover, apart from the fact the thought was morally repugnant to her. Far better to suffer her heartbreak now and get it over and done with.
In a few short days, I will never see him again.
She pushed the distressing thought aside. She was resolved to it. The only way she could be with him was in a way she didn’t want. She couldn’t make him feel something for her that he was incapable of feeling. The rejection hurt, but she would survive it. She must. She had made her choice to start a whole new life, and she refused to be defeated before she had even begun it.
Besides, it was better this way. He had no idea who she truly was, and it must remain that way. Deepening her connection with him risked exposure. No one must know that she had once been Lady Cordelia Pelham, the daughter of a marquess, not even him—especiallynot him.
***
Ambrose walked down the hallway towards the room he was sharing with Mr Giles. He passed by the room that Delia was staying in. The door was closed.
Suddenly, he stopped. He knew that she was sitting downstairs near the fire, for he had passed by the room on his way up the staircase. He had resisted going to her, mindful of his conviction to stay away from her, his promise that he would respect her wishes.
He hesitated. Before he knew what he was doing, he turned back, walking quickly to her room and letting himself inside. He closed the door behind him.
His heart was pounding. He had no idea why he was doing such a crazy thing. But his curiosity about who she really was and if she was lying to him was starting to overwhelm him. Surely, there might be something in her trunk that might tell him? A letter or some other keepsake?
His heart pounded harder as he walked to the old trunk, clicking it open. There wasn’t much inside of it. A few gowns, some underwear. He searched the corners of it, his hand groping amongst the clothing. Then his hand clasped over a small box.
He could barely breathe as he opened it. There was a brooch nestled inside it that didn’t look like it was worth very much. He was just about to close it when he saw a small, folded note. He opened it, reading quickly.
For Grannie. I hope you like it. Love, Minnie.
He frowned, folding the note and placing it back in the box before placing it back in the same position he had found it within the trunk. He sat back on his heels, his mind working furiously.
The brooch is a gift. To someone’s grandmother. A woman named Minnie.
A feeling of foreboding stole over him. Delia was supposedly journeying to Bradford to stay with her grandmother. It would be appropriate to give her a small gift, especially if she hadn’t seen her in a long time. Except that it wasn’t Delia giving this brooch to her grandmother. It was a woman named Minnie.
Why was she carrying a gift from a woman named Minnie?
He frowned. He supposed she might be delivering a gift on behalf of the woman named Minnie. Of course, that was possible. Minnie might have a grandmother in Bradford, just like Delia did. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. The note in itself proved nothing.
He was just about to shut the trunk when he saw an inscription on the inside of the trunk lid. He moved closer so he could make out what it said. The handwriting was so small that he had to squint. But then, the words came into focus.
Property of Minnie Reeves.
He shut the lid of the trunk so hastily that it slammed. His heart was thumping in his chest now. He was so stunned that he couldn’t think for a moment. And then the truth rushed at him as if through a long tunnel.
The trunk belonged to a woman named Minnie Reeves. It wasn’t Delia’s trunk at all.
His blood ran cold. She was lying about who she was. He had always known she was stretching the truth. But what he didn’t know was whether she had stolen this woman Minnie’s trunk or whether she actuallywasMinnie and had decided to give a false name for this journey. But why? Why would she say that she was Delia Parker when she was really Minnie Reeves? No one knew who she was on this trip.
He frowned. Unless Minnie Reeves had to escape her life. Then it made all the sense in the world as to why she would have assumed a false name but still had Minnie’s possessions. Perhaps she didn’t want to be found. Perhaps she wanted to vanish entirely.
Perhaps sheneededto vanish entirely.
