Page 40 of Temptress in Disguise
“Please don’t forsake me. I need you.”
She needed him.
Him! Not Aaron.
Not the Chance brothers and all their collective might.
“You need me to do what, Naomi?”
She looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes. “To trust me. To tell me this nightmare will soon end. To be my friend. My confidant. The only person in this entire world who understands me.”
“What makes you think I can be anything but a brute?” What could she see that others couldn’t? Where was this invisible chink in his armour? He’d be damned if he knew.
“You let me choose the ring I wanted. You filled the pews to please me. When you kissed me at the altar, everything felt right.”
Something shifted inside him.
A heaviness he’d not known existed.
Despite a fear of looking foolish, he took a small step forward. A giant leap of faith. “We’re leaving.” Ignoring a pang of resistance, he scooped Naomi into his arms and held her tightly to his chest. He had never held a woman this close. She was light, as fragile as the fae. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”
She sagged against him, gripping the collar of his coat to avoid touching his skin. She didn’t speak, only cried. Flood waters finally bursting the bank. A torrent that lapped the distant shores of his heart.
Cry for me,too, he uttered silently, stealing himself lest his own defences faltered and unleashed Armageddon.
“Good heavens!” Kendrick called as Aramis stormed through the auditorium. “Is Miss Grant unwell? Will she return to play Hero tonight? We’re sure to have a packed house.”
“I’m playing Hero,” Miss Gray asserted.
Aramis ignored them. He marched through the foyer, kicked the playhouse door open and emerged onto Bedford Street, the daylight almost blinding. With the carriage in his sights, he shouted for Gibbs. “Open the damn door.”
The coachman jumped into action. “Shall I fetch a doctor?”
“No. We need privacy, not a physician.”
Except Kendrick was determined to scupper the plan. He came darting out of the Belldrake waving a letter. “I forgot to mention the note for Miss Grant. It was in Mr Budworth’s office. I took it for safe-keeping.”
Aramis released Naomi, supporting her until her feet were planted firmly on the ground. “Kendrick has a letter for you.” A letter he had most likely read. A letter he used to delay their departure.
Naomi dashed tears from her cheeks. “A letter?” She took the proffered note, her eyes widening upon reading her name written in elegant script. “When did you find it?”
A blush flooded the man’s face. “This morning. Tucked inside Mr Budworth’s journal. He kept secret notes about the play, the staging and the actors. He presumed no one knew he’d hidden it under a loose board.”
“We need that journal.” Aramis prayed it didn’t contain damning evidence relating to his wife. Aaron would call him an idiot for believing her. “Show Gibbs to the office. He will gather the evidence we left there.” He referred to the blood-stained script, not the creased chemise he’d have Gibbs secretly remove from the bedroom.
“About the play tonight,” Kendrick began. “I wonder?—”
“No!” Aramis shooed the man away and gave Gibbs a brief list of instructions before assisting Naomi into the conveyance.
“Do you think the letter is from Lydia?” Naomi stared at the folded note in her hand. “It looks like her handwriting.”
Aramis closed the door and settled into the seat. “Would you like me to read it for you?” She looked bone-tired, so weary he considered returning to the bookshop, feeding her hot broth and tucking her into bed.
“Perhaps that’s best.” She handed him the missive, their fingers brushing gently, though the merest contact made her jump. “Forgive me. This is all so confounding.”
“Daventry said the key to conducting an investigation is to continue asking questions. The truth always prevails.”
“I’m not referring to the case, but the awkwardness that surrounds touching you. It’s like tiptoeing through a pit of sleeping vipers. I’m scared of making a wrong move in case you bite.”
