A Taste of Desire(115)

Decision reached and conscience sufficiently appeased, Thomas bolted from his bed. He snatched up his dressing robe from the footboard and exited the room.

Ten minutes later, Thomas paused at the library window to adjust his bearings. The anticipation that had coiled his insides to knots, now unfurled like tentacles of concern. Where was she? He’d gone to her room and found it empty. He’d then searched the study and library, morning and dining rooms, his worry increasing by the half minute. Even the billiards room—a space she’d rarely ever ventured into—received a thorough inspection. But again, that effort too proved fruitless.

He’d returned to the library on the off chance he’d crossed paths with her somewhere. She loved reading in the window seat overlooking the back. As he stared out that same window, his mind racing, his thoughts occupied, a movement outside caught his peripheral vision. A moment later, a figure emerged from a copse of dogwood to the left of the groundskeeper’s lodgings.

From the light of the full moon Thomas could make out the form. Amelia. Air rushed from his lungs in relief. He’d recognize her dressed in burlap from a mile away. Since the groundskeeper’s house was set back not far from the main house, his current position gave him an eagle’s view of the area in play.

As quickly as relief had soothed his mounting concern, another figure—this one definitely male—joined her. The man’s head was bent down close to hers, their conversation intimate. These certainly weren’t two people exchanging polite pleasantries.

Thomas saw the kiss occur as if wrapped in a dream. None of it seemed real. The man moved in closer until his lips touched hers. One, two seconds passed before she jerked her head back, glanced hurriedly around, and then grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back behind the shelter of the dogwood.

“Sir.”

Thomas turned with a start at his butler’s voice, observing him through a mist of red-hot anger and the green tint of jealousy. Alfred stood tall and straight at the library threshold, his expression graver than usual.

“A problem, Alfred?” Thomas was frankly surprised by his calm tone when a voice inside him was raging out of control.

“Sir, one of the servants has discovered an empty carriage on the property. It is behind the trees near the pond. How would you like me to proceed? Should I alert the constable?”

Thomas processed the butler’s words like a drowning man taking in mouthfuls of water, flailing about only now realizing he didn’t know how to swim. But while his eyes might deny the scene he’d just witnessed, his mind couldn’t deny the facts pointing to Amelia’s obvious betrayal. The only question now was, who was he this time? Treacherous, lying, witch.

“The horses?”

“Yes, still there, sir, both tied to a tree.”

Thomas nodded slowly. “I will deal with it.”

His normally stoic butler appraised him with raised brows and wide eyes. His look of bafflement was gone a moment later. “As you wish, sir.” Alfred pivoted on his heel to go, then paused and turned back to him. “Sir, would you like the lamps lit?”

Both figuratively and literally, Thomas stood shrouded in darkness. He’d been too impatient to light the lamps when he’d thrown open the doors to find the room empty and silent.

“No, I’m on my way out,” he said but didn’t move except to stare out the window again.

Alfred exited as quietly as he’d appeared. She was planning to leave him. Tonight. There could be no other explanation for the scene he’d just witnessed, no other explanation for the presence of the coach on his property.

While the future he’d envisaged with Amelia crashed down around him in fitting apocalyptic fashion given their introduction the prior year, she emerged from behind the bush and began hurrying up the path leading to the servants’ door at the back.

Thomas turned and strode from the room, intent on being there to greet her.





Chapter 30



The doorknob gave way beneath Amelia’s grasp as the door opened with an abruptness that left her struggling to retain her balance. Her gloved hands found the frame of the door.

Her gaze flew to the opening. Thomas stood framed in the doorway, his eyes a Siberian winter and granite hard.

Amelia gasped. “Thomas.” His name was all she could manage with her throat constricted and her mouth suddenly dry.

“Rather late to be out in the cold.” His tone held no particular inflection, but his eyes could cut glass.