The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(73)

He closed the distance between them. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as irritation swept over him. “There is only one person she would tell, and that’s you. Where has she gone?”

Nellie shoved an errant lock of red hair behind her ear. “Didn’t she leave you a note?”

Wasn’t it obvious she hadn’t? If Katherine had written to him, he wouldn’t be standing here. “Nellie, please. I need to see her and explain.”

“I’m fairly sure if she wanted to hear your explanations, then she would’ve told you where she was going.”

He crossed his arms and scowled at her. “I need to talk to her.”

Nellie lifted her shoulder. “Write her a letter. If I see her, I’ll pass it along.”

Something told him any letter he handed Nellie would end up in a fireplace somewhere. “Is she here?”

“In my house or in the city?”

“Either,” he said through clenched teeth.

“No.”

“To which? Your house or the city?”

“She’s not staying with me. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

He huffed and let his hands fall to his sides. “I can’t believe this. You’re keeping her from me.”

“No, Preston. You managed that all on your own.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He didn’t like the knowing light in her gaze. “It means you screwed this up. You hurt my friend, and if you think for one second that I will help you find her just so you can hurt her again . . . you are dead wrong.”

“I don’t want to hurt her! I want to explain.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to hear it. You’re fooling yourself if you think you are good for her.”

“What did she tell you?” Clearly Nellie knew more than he’d thought. “Did she tell you what happened?”

“I’m not betraying her trust, Preston. If she did tell me, I won’t repeat it to anyone—especially not you.”

He turned and began pacing, unable to keep his irritation at bay. “I don’t know why you hate me, but I care about her. A lot. She’s upset about what I did, but I just need to explain everything to her.”

“You obviously believe the world revolves around you, but perhaps something else happened. Something that’s nothing to do with you, but has upset her all the same.”

“Like, what?”

“Again, her trust means more to me than satisfying your curiosity.”

Goddamn it. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. A ball of panic had been sitting on his chest ever since Katherine ran out of her father’s office. He didn’t like knowing he’d hurt her, even unintentionally. It made it impossible to concentrate on the simplest of tasks, and Mrs. Cohen was threatening to quit if he didn’t get his head on straight.

He needed Katherine back in the city, making him laugh and meeting him at Jane Street. And Nellie was standing in the way of that.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he snapped. “I’ll just hire a Pinkerton or two. They’ll find her in a day.” After all, he’d hired the investigators to find Forrest and they hadn’t let him down.

“Well, well. Nice to see you aren’t made of ice, after all.” Nellie leaned a hip against the refreshment table and crossed her arms. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help me?”

“No.”

“Why not? I have her best interests at heart.”

“I’m not certain you do, but even still, she’s gone and doesn’t want to be found. When or if she’s ever ready to talk to you, you’ll hear from her.”

“That isn’t good enough.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s all you’re going to get from me.” She smiled sweetly, clearly relishing her power over him.

“I see I’m wasting my time here.” He spun on his heel and started for the door. He’d cable the Pinkerton office as soon as he left.

“Think about why you’re so determined to find her,” Nellie called out. “What happens then? She’s not one of your mistresses, Preston.”

He was aware. But Katherine was alone, stewing in anger and hurt, and he needed to set things to rights between them.





Chapter Twenty-Two




Katherine carried her cup of coffee out onto the porch of the four-bedroom wooden lodge. Though it was early, the morning sun cast a brilliant gold over the still waters of Lake George, with the surrounding trees a glorious panorama of orange, red and yellow. This part of the state was rustic and simple, so different than the hustle and bustle of the city. She could see why so many wealthy families built homes here.

Other than her quick trips to the Hotel Sagamore, she hadn’t seen a single person in four days. Since Aunt Dahlia required daily proof that Katherine hadn’t been eaten by a bear, she walked to the hotel each afternoon, sent a telegram home, picked up something small for dinner and came back to her lodge. While her decision to come up here was made impulsively, she quickly discovered it was the perfect escape.

And she had no plans to leave any time soon.