Page 81 of Touched By a Traitor
Andrew stepped intothe brothel, feeling rather foolish in the formal attire his valet, David, had insisted upon. When Andrew mentioned his desire to appear presentable should he encounter Lady Carlisle, David had set aside his usual concern for his master’s melancholy and thrown himself into the task withdetermined efficiency, selecting a suit of vibrant royal-blue to emphasize Andrew’s broad shoulders.
His heart pumped arduously within his ribcage, seemingly too large to be contained. With a deep, steadying breath, he glanced around the room, his eyes searching for any sign of Charlotte.
“Why, Andrew!” A veteran of the brothel, Miss Amy, greeted him with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with genuine affection. “Have you come to see Madam, my lord?”
“Indeed, I have,” Andrew replied, inclining his head.
“You’ll find her in her office, if you wish to proceed directly,” Amy said, gesturing down the corridor.
As Andrew turned to take his leave, Amy called out after him, “Your wife is a true gem, my lord. Such an intelligent and kind-hearted woman!”
At the mention of Charlotte, Andrew’s heart gave a mighty thump, his step faltering for the briefest of moments. Without responding, he continued down the hallway, his knuckles rapping gently on the door to Madam’s office.
Madam, as always, was the picture of refinement and grace, her appearance so polished that one might think she was expecting a visit from the royal family. With a warm smile, she welcomed Andrew into her embrace, her arms opening wide to receive him. He bent to place a chaste kiss on her cheeks, his own arms encircling her petite frame with the utmost care, lest he crush her.
As Madam settled herself into her favorite armchair, a ghastly combination of red, orange, and green that never failed to offend Andrew’s sensibilities, she fixed him with a pointed look.
“So, you’ve made quite the mess of things, haven’t you?” she remarked, her tone more observational than accusatory.
Andrew sank onto the settee opposite her, his head bowed low, unable to meet her penetrating gaze.
“Have you come to see her?” Absent was any sympathy in her voice.
“No.”
Madam sighed, her fingers lacing together in her lap. “She’s doing remarkably well, all things considered. I’m not certain I would have fared half so admirably at her age.”
At this, Andrew shrank further into himself, his shoulders hunching as if to protect him from the weight of his own guilt and regret.
“If you didn’t come to see her, then why are you here? Surely you didn’t think I would welcome you with open arms, not after what you’ve done?”
Andrew glanced up at her then, a sheepish expression on his face. “You did, though,” he muttered.
Madam waved a dismissive hand, her eyes twinkling with affection. “That was me greeting the boy I’ve come to love as my own. This, however, is me speaking to my son, wondering how on earth I managed to raise such a scoundrel.”
At her words, Andrew dropped his head into his hands, his fingers raking through his hair in a gesture of frustration and despair.
“You do look very handsome today, I must say,” Madam continued, her tone softening once more. “You ought to dress like this more often, though I’m not so naïve as to believe you did it for my benefit.” She paused, studying his face intently. “Are you quite certain you didn’t come here hoping to see her?”
Andrew sat up straight, his shoulders squaring as he met Madam’s gaze. “Would she agree to see me if I asked?”
Madam shook her head. “No, my dear.”
With a grunt of frustration, Andrew rose from his seat and began to pace the room, his agitation evident in every line ofhis body. Suddenly, he turned to face the wall, one hand braced against the smooth surface as if to steady himself.
“How is she, truly?” he blurted. “Is she eating? Sleeping? Does she… does she speak of me at all?”
Madam remained silent for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she considered her response. When at last she spoke, her voice was gentle. “She doesn’t sleep much, I’m afraid. And when she does, it’s often fitful, plagued by dreams that leave her weeping. She’s thrown herself into her work, spending long hours in this office to distract herself from the pain.” She paused, her eyes meeting Andrew’s with a knowing look. “She hasn’t mentioned you by name, but she doesn’t need to. It’s clear in the sorrow that haunts her eyes just how deeply she misses you.”
Andrew’s hands clenched at his sides, the image of Charlotte weeping alone in the darkness nearly bringing him to his knees. He felt the sting of tears behind his own eyes, and he swallowed hard against the tightness that gripped his throat. “Do you truly believe that? That she misses me, even after all I’ve done?”
“Yes, my darling boy. I know she does.” Madam’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.
Desperate to maintain some semblance of composure, to cling to the tattered remnants of his pride, Andrew sought to steer the conversation to safer ground. He stepped away from Madam’s touch as he spoke. “I’ve made a decision. I intend to sign over the ownership of the Sovereign Seas to your charity.”
A stunned silence followed his words, and when Andrew turned to gauge Madam’s reaction, he found her standing motionless, her eyes wide.
“Ma?” he said softly, the childhood endearment slipping from his lips.
