Page 2 of Unmasking the Silver Heiress
Again, technically, she had been telling the truth. The thief was indeed who she suspected, and was easily found on the road to Newcastle. They had successfully retrieved the valise before it could reach its destination, absconding from the inn where they'd taken it before its disappearance could be noted. They had the valise. The useless, useless valise, filled with nothing but the remnants of a middling student's final days at Oxford.
Technicalities were not much comfort in the grand scheme of things.
Mr. Atlas would have a choice to make now, depending on his perception of whether or not Nell had held up her end of their bargain. Whether or not he chose to actually marry her, her reputation had been utterly and irrevocably soiled by this caper. His had too, she knew. He had intended to take a different bride entirely.
"What happens now?" he finally said, pushing himself to his feet in a smooth single motion. His voice was mild, unreadable, which was somehow more unsettling than outright anger. He paced to the door and poured himself a glass of water, his movements as silent and graceful as a panther's. "We still have no idea what happened to the parcel."
"No, we don't," she replied softly, squeezing her eyes shut in an effort to stamp down the horrible roils that rose in her stomach. "I suppose the best we can do is return to London with utmost haste and report what has happened. There were three of us present for it all, so there need not be any concern of duplicity."
He gave a humorless laugh, running a hand through his glossy brown hair. She had never seen him so disheveled. While a part of seeing him thus was certainly thrilling in a base way, she could not properly enjoy it in the present circumstances.
"Duplicity is rather the point, isn't it?" he said, setting the empty glass back onto the table with a sharp clatter.
She did not disagree.
"It is too late to do anything tonight," he continued. "We can make a quick stop in the morning, have marriage papers drawn up, and then head back to London as fast as possible. I suppose I can only pray that this hasn't completely destroyed my repute and potential for further involvement in the cause."
"It hasn't," she whispered.
"How could you know that?" he snapped, a hint of fire on the edge of his voice. "How is someone like you involved in such things in the first place? It is unseemly!"
"I just know," she said, finally lifting her chin to meet his eye. "I cannot explain until we get to London. I'm sorry."
"Yes, yes, it's all secrets and subterfuge. I understand," he muttered, pacing over to the corner of the bed and plopping down on the poorly stuffed mattress. "It is too late to second-guess ourselves now."
"Peter will likely have returned ahead of us," Nell said, still watching her soon-to-be husband from the floor. "He may report that we went in pursuit of the parcel, which certainly will buy us some credence. Lady Hansen's man will be panicked at having lost the valise, likely still assuming the item of value was parceled inside. Perhaps at this juncture, we can play a bluff for the same leverage we originally hoped to attain."
"A bluff?" he repeated. "What if Alex Somers still has it?"
"He doesn't." Nell sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "You said yourself that he took the parcel by mistake. If Elizabeth had been a little more verbose in her message to you when it went missing in the first place, perhaps we would have had more success in finding it."
"Verbose." He grimaced. "Doesn't that rather defeat the purpose of coded communication?"
Nell sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe we missed something? Tell me again exactly how the item moved from place to place."
"There is little point," he said. "We might as well get some sleep. We'll bring the valise south with us, and hand it off as we found it. What harm could it do?"
She nodded, busying herself with replacing the contents of the valise, perhaps a sight more neatly than they'd found them. Her hands were steady, at the very least. Nathaniel couldn't see how badly her nerves had come undone.
They had shared a bed for the last two nights, in the absolute loosest sense of the expression. Both had remained fully clothed with separate blankets keeping each one warm. Atlas made such a point of curling himself onto the farthest reach of the mattress that Nell felt she could have sprawled out like some sort of hedonist and never touched him.
She told herself that he was preserving decency, but deep down she suspected he was repulsed by the idea that she was to be his bedfellow for the rest of their natural lives. It was understandable, after all, wasn't it? Up until a few nights ago, he had thought his future bride was going to be Gloriana Blakely, a celebrated beauty, so stunning men often stopped dead in their tracks when she passed by.
Nell could hardly resent his disappointment, could she? Surely it was rational. She was no great beauty and had never entertained hopes of becoming one. She was, however, shrewd and smart and better connected than he could possibly imagine.
She would not be as vulnerable as Glory would have been, married to such a man. She had already seen the darkness he hid beneath his exterior of politician's charm and carefully styled beauty. There was no devastation awaiting her on the other side of the altar, when a man's true colors must eventually show themselves.
This was for the best. For everyone.
He would come to see the sense in this union, she told herself. He would have to, even if it took a while. What did time matter anyway when marriage was such a very, very long affair?
Chapter 2
It wasn't the wedding he'd imagined for himself. That much was certain.
Rather than a resplendent bride, glowing in fine couture and bright with elation, Nathaniel Atlas found himself standing across from an exhausted, unwashed slip of a girl, whose boxy, unfashionable dress was streaked with the muck of their journey. The dark circles under her eyes were magnified behind her spectacles, which reflected back to him just how weary he looked as well.
It had been the right choice, he told himself. It had been the sensible choice, given the circumstances. Everything he'd done over the years, all the careful planning and work and sacrifice, would have meant nothing if he'd botched his first mission with the Silver Leaf Society, thus destroying his chances of ever truly joining their ranks.
