Page 62 of The Viscount's Code
The tears surfaced again, pricking the backs of Hope’s eyes. She hated all that her sister was saying, yet, deep within, she knew that Faith had a point.
“There is only one way to know,” she said resolutely. “I must ask him.”
“Well, you cannot go up to his bedchamber alone,” Faith said, narrowing her eyes. “At least, not now in the light of day when everyone will know where you have gone.”
She was right, of course. There were far too many guests and servants about. It was not like he would leave immediately, not without his mother. Hope would find her and wait for him to come and tell her if he decided to leave. Then she would ask him for a moment to speak to him alone.
She followed Faith through the halls to the drawing room where some of the ladies were taking tea together. She made her greetings without any enthusiasm, sitting on the sofa, across from the piano in the corner. She stared at it, remembering Anthony slamming the door, the shock of the striking keys from between the walls.
The more she stared at it, the more she felt a tug on her mind, telling her she was missing something. But what? It was too hard to concentrate with all of her worries about Anthony at the forefront of her thoughts.
She knew how much she wanted a future with him and only him – but was Faith right? Did he still want to live his life alone?
“Hope? Are you all right?”
Hope was pulled from her daze to find Percy sitting next to her, concern on her face.
“I-I’m not sure,” she answered truthfully.
“Does this have to do with Lord Whitehall?” Percy asked in a low voice.
“How did you know?” Hope asked, her eyes flitting over to Faith, wondering if she had said anything.
“This did not come from Faith,” Percy said with a quirk of her lips. “I have seen the way you look at him – and the way he looks at you.”
“How does he look at me?” Hope couldn’t help but ask, not caring that she was giving her true feelings away.
“Like he loves you,” Percy said, tilting her head with a smile.
“I don’t believe that’s true,” Hope said, her voice rather mournful.
“I do not believe Lord Whitehall is one who knows how to share his emotions very well,” Percy mused. “I heard the disagreement in the library earlier – most of us did, if the truth be told,” she said when Hope cringed. “All I can say, Hope, is that you deserve to be happy – whether that is with Lord Whitehall or without him. And so does he. None of us should have to suffer for the sins of our parents.”
“This is true,” Hope said, her eyes wide as she looked at her friend. “But how do I convince him of this as well?”
“I’m not sure that you can,” Percy said gently. “It might be something that he needs to discover for himself. But perhaps your belief in him – and in the two of you – could let him know that it’s possible.”
“Perhaps,” Hope said, comparing Percy’s words to Faith’s. The problem was, she didn’t have the words from the one person who mattered – Anthony himself.
When the tea was over, she finally did what she had been waiting to do for hours – she snuck up to his room to talk to him. If he wasn’t there, she determined, she would wait for him until he returned.
She pushed open the door without knocking, belatedly realizing that his valet could be within, but stepped through anyway.
Only to find that the room was not only devoid of Anthony himself, but all of his belongings as well.
He was gone. Without even so much as a goodbye.
* * *
Anthony was miserable.
He had departed Castleton as soon as he and his valet had been able to pack his belongings, before he had even spoken to his mother.
He had left her a note instead but had left nothing for Hope.
He was aware that he had taken the coward’s way out.
He was no better than his father, who had also refused to stand up for himself and the truth.
