Page 46 of One Dangerous Desire
Sullivan approached the housekeeper, and she lifted a hand to the corner of her mouth. “He’s been in a bad way for days. Please sort him out, Mr. Sullivan, and get that gun away from him if you can.”
“I can hear every word you’re saying, Mrs. Hark.” Rex stood up and stretched his back. He’d been immobile too long, frozen by frustration and the impossibility of grasping what he wanted most. “Sounds treasonous to me.”
When she gasped and her eyes went round as silver dollars, Rex grinned. “Be a dear and get me some coffee, would you?”
Sullivan whispered a few words of reassurance to Mrs. Hark and closed the door behind her as she finally departed to, Rex hoped, make him a fresh pot of coffee.
Positioning himself in his usual chair in front of Rex’s desk, Sullivan took out his battered journal as if he intended to launch straight into his weekly report. Instead, he closed the book and looked up. “Let’s begin with what ails you, sir.”
“Let’s not.” Talking about it wouldn’t change anything. “You’re not an alienist come to cure me, Jack. Give me your damn report. That’s what I pay you for.”
A muscle ticked in the detective’s jaw, and his back went even straighter than usual. After a moment he lowered his head and flipped open a page in his journal. “The Earl of Devenham has decided to—”
Rex stood up and stomped over to the bell pull, tugging the embroidered length of fabric with such force he nearly wrenched it from the wall. Charlie shot up from his napping spot by the fireplace and joined Rex, no doubt hoping his daily walk through Hyde Park was about to commence.
Where was that woman with his coffee? He turned back to Sullivan and balanced a hand on each hip, drew in a deep breath, and asked for the answer he didn’t want to the question that had been haunting him for three days. “Is he marrying her?”
“Sir?”
“Devenham. Has May agreed to marry him?”
Sullivan tipped his head, a knowing smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “Ah.”
“Trust me when I say that this is not the time for one of your incisive deductions. Tell me about Devenham and May.” Even linking their names in a sentence made him long to put another bullet in the wall.
“She refused him.”
The air rushed from Rex’s chest. He raked a hand through his hair. “You’re certain? How can you know for sure?”
“I spoke to someone who witnessed the proposal and the refusal.”
Rex could think of only person in Devenham’s circle who’d share such information with Jack. “Lady Emily.”
“Yes.” Sullivan coughed into his fisted hand, squirming uncharacteristically in his chair. “She told me that she intended to send you a letter.”
Searching the miserable haze of the last few days, Rex did recall an envelope addressed from Ashworth House. Thick, elaborately decorated paper had been marked in a woman’s looping hand. “I burned it.”
“You burned it?” Sullivan had perfected a haughty, incredulous tone too.
“I thought it was an invitation to some dinner party or ball.”
Reaching up to pinch the skin between his eyebrows, Sullivan sighed. “She wished you to know that Devenham was refused. Lady Emily has an inkling regarding your feelings for Miss Sedgwick, and hers for you.”
Those feelings were crashing in now, loosened, finally, from the torturous days since he’d last seen her. He hadn’t achieved anything by waiting and worrying. He had to act. Had to see May and make up for six years of missing her. Ensure that neither of them would have to miss being together ever again.
Rex started for his desk to retrieve the coat he’d discarded on the back of his chair. Charlie clipped along at his heels. “Let’s resume this meeting later, Sullivan. I need to speak to Miss Sedgwick.” Papers rustled with his movements, a few arcing up and coming precariously close to edging off his desk.
Sullivan reached out to resettle a large piece that seemed determined to reach the floor. “You shot a hole in your plans for the Pinnacle?”
“Don’t worry. I have several copies of those plans.” For one grim moment, hopelessness had almost won. Almost snuffed out his hope for the Pinnacle and the future he’d envisioned.
On his path across the room, Rex paused to clap Jack on the shoulder. “I’m pleased to hear you’re on such excellent terms with Lady Emily.”
Sullivan jumped out of his chair and mumbled excuses so quickly that Charlie barked at the sudden movement. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Leighton. Not excellent terms. We met in very public circumstances at the Metropole. She takes—”
“Tea there every Tuesday. Yes, I remember.” Rex pulled his waistcoat down and retied his neck tie, adjusting it in the mirror over the mantel. Not as well as Brooks would have done, or Mrs. Hark, if she ever bothered doing her duties again, but good enough to look respectable. Even for Seymour Sedgwick.
“I’d wish you luck, sir, but I don’t think you need it.”
