Page 16 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
He loved Lola, admired her. Needed her, even. She’d looked at him and seen past the devil-may-care ruin of a man. She’d seen to the heart of him, a place he showed no one else. And now, while he could not see his own mother, he looked to Lola, replacing the family he’d lost with this new one that had appeared like magic around him, insisting he accept them no matter his desires. And just like his biological family, this new one—Lola especially—thought they knew the best path for him.
Lola likely did know.
“Damn woman,” Cass grumbled.
“I heard that!” she said with a cackle from the hallway.
Cass jumped, stared at the door for a few breaths, then returned to the window. And to Miss Cavendish’s letter.
Pour your heart out, Lola said. He’d done it before, to his father—confessed his sins and asked forgiveness. And afterward, afterward he’d felt lighter, better than he had in ages. Could he do it again? But this time to a stranger?
He’d try. But he’d start small.
* * *
Ada tapped her fingers over the row of French words lining the page and strained her ear toward the door. How long would she have to wait for a response? Too long. Entirely too long. Wait. Footsteps! And they grew louder. She straightened her spine and swung her gaze to the book.
The door popped open. “Miss Cavendish, a note for you,” a maid said.
Ada did not remove her eyes from the book. She waved a hand with a smile she hoped made her appear distracted by whatever book she held in her hands. “Ah. Yes. Thank you. Just put it down, please.”
The sound of the door clicking closed.
Ada snapped the book shut, jumped to her feet, and dropped the book in the chair. Two steps saw her with the note in hand. She ripped it open. Then frowned. Lord Albee clearly did not take this seriously!
Dear AC,
As a boy, I never let my brother have the last biscuit. Coldhearted and selfish, likely, but the last one is always the best one, don’t you think?
—A
Burning with frustration, Ada hurried upstairs to the privacy of her room, sat, and wrote.
Lord A,
Surely you are not speaking of such childish indiscretions as biscuit stealing?! I thought you meant to reform on a moral level, not simply grow up.
But I must also note I feel for your sibling. Is your brother older than you? I suspect he is. The eldest never gets the final anything. We’re too busy cleaning up messes.
I insist you send me another scenario. And be serious about it this time. I know you can be.
—AC
She should ask about the kidnapping. No, not outright. That might scare him off. Sometimes, with the children, it proved best to hint and wait for a confession. Ada sanded, folded, and handed the note off to her maid.
* * *
Cass laughed loud and long. “Hughes! See!” He shook the note in the valet’s glowering direction. “Didn’t I tell you she’d help! Just listen to that set down! Censorious but optimistic. She makes you quake with guilt and then builds you up with hope. It’s a masterpiece, really.”
He laughed, but a dark edge pulsed just under his skin, like he wore a suit of knives inside his body and any wrong move would flail him from the inside out.
“I must admit it’s impressive, my lord,” Hughes said. “She does have a way with words. But I cannot approve. You must end the association.”
“End it? But she’s asked for another example of my misdeeds. We can’t disappoint her, Hughes.” He tried for a note of levity but heard the sharp edge. He was not going to avoid the truth this time. He was not going to run from himself when next he set pen to paper.
“There is nowehere, Lord Albee.” Hughes stood with a somber shake of his head. “I shan’t be party to this.” He disappeared, for what seemed the tenth time that day, into the dressing room.
“You’ll come out of there quick as a wink once the next letter arrives.” There, that had sounded lighthearted.
