She'd spent the long hours visiting with Caroline and the dowager duchess-time that she simultaneously enjoyed, yet which filled her with a poignant ache for her own mother and sister. Caroline, with her playful, teasing manner and tendency toward creative card-playing, very much reminded her of Katherine. And while the regal dowager was very different from Mama, they both adored their children, and Allie appreciated how the older woman treated her as kindly as she did Caroline and Elizabeth.

As the days wore on, however, she couldn't help but feel the weight of Caroline's and the dowager's speculative gazes, and Elizabeth's as well during their afternoon visits. She'd avoided talking about Robert with Elizabeth, changing the subject or answering noncommittally the two times Elizabeth had brought up his name, but she realized she couldn't continue to do so indefinitely. Given Elizabeth's "feelings," she most likely knew what was going on, but she was obviously waiting for Allie to bring up the matter.

But truly, one would not need any special powers of perception to sense the tension between her and Robert during dinner. To Allie, it seemed as if the very air between them at the table were thick enough to slice. Thank God she'd so far only had to face him at dinner. It was near torture, having him sit directly across from her. His presence lodged a lump in her throat, making it nearly impossible to eat. She couldn't look at him, didn't want to see him. For she sensed that to do so would… would what?

Make her want him more? Hardly seemed possible, as she already wanted him with an intensity that made her skin ache. Crumble her resolve to avoid him? Yes, that was a distinct possibility, and one she did not wish to contemplate. Make her reconsider his proposal? No, she couldn't possibly. Nothing had changed between them; they were still wrong for each other.

Force her to accept the fact that she loved him?

Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes, unable to shut out the truth any longer. She loved him. Completely.

How, how had this happened? A half-laugh, half-sob rose in her tight throat. Surely there was no woman alive more foolish than she. She could understand making a mistake-she was human and therefore prone to error. But to make the same mistake twice-and such a huge mistake as falling in love with the absolute wrong man-well, clearly she'd taken leave of her senses. If she was to continue making mistakes, why, oh why could she not make a different mistake? Something more along the lines of using the wrong fork. Or paying a shopkeeper an incorrect amount.

But no, she seemed destined to fall impetuously in love with handsome, charming men who did not feel obligated to be truthful with her. Men whose dashing exteriors concealed dubious, criminal pasts. Perhaps she should consider a visit to the closest jail. Surely that would save her time in choosing the next wrong man to give her heart to.

Yet even as the sarcastic thought entered her mind, she realized with a sense of finality that there would never be another man after Robert. She'd thought she'd loved David with all her heart, but what she felt for Robert made her feelings for David fade to near insignificance. You thought you;d suffered a broken heart before? her inner voice scoffed. Ha! Now you know what it feels like.

Yes, she did. And she could not bear to feel like this anymore. It was time to face her situation straight on and make a decision. She had three choices. She could change her mind and accept Robert's proposal-a choice she discarded for all the same reasons she'd turned him down in the first place. She simply could not give her heart to another David. Robert might own her heart, but she did not have to give it to him.

She could keep to her original plan and remain here for the next five weeks with Elizabeth. A pang of regret raced through her, for she knew she had to discard that choice as well. She loved Elizabeth, loved being with her, but she could not possibly stay here for another month.

That left only one choice, and as much as it pained her, it was the most logical option. She needed to leave here as soon as possible. She would return to London, then sail back to America on the first available ship. Before she made another mistake. Before she gave in to temptation and allowed her unreliable heart to overrule her head.


*********

Lester Redfern approached the horse with a narrow-eyed stare. "If you bite me again, I'll shoot you where you stand, you useless nag."

The mare shook her head and bared yellow teeth. Grumbling, Redfern slipped his boot into the stirrup, then vaulted awkwardly into the saddle as the beast sidestepped away from him. Bloody hell, maybe he'd shoot the beast anyway. But after. After he'd gotten the note and finished off Mrs. Brown.

He squinted up into the bright sunshine. Between the sun and the rising temperature, the road would be passable. A grin eased across his face and he applied his heels to the mare's flanks.

By this time tomorrow, he would be a rich man.

Get ready, Mrs. Brown. Here I come.


*********

Bent low over the gelding's saddle, Michael raced along the dirt road. Teeth clenched, he forced himself to concentrate on each pounding step that brought him closer to Bradford Hall. Forced himself not to think about the incredible, shocking story his mum had told him. Forced himself to push away the ramifications of that tale until later. Right now there was only one thing to focus on: getting to Bradford Hall and Mrs. Brown.

Before Geoffrey Hadmore did.


*********

Geoffrey Hadmore slowed his mount to a walk, chafing at the delay caused by the numerous muddy ruts in the road. He took the opportunity to slip his handkerchief from his waistcoat and mop his overheated brow. In spite of the still less than perfect traveling conditions, the road was drying very nicely. By early afternoon, he would be able to move along at a quicker pace. Which was good. After all, he had a baby gift to deliver.

And at least one murder to commit.

Chapter 21

Allie hesitated in the corridor outside the nursery. She knew from Fenton that Elizabeth was in the room. She could only pray Robert was not present as well. Drawing a bracing breath, she stepped into the open doorway.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the settee. Images of her and Robert, limbs entwined, flashed through her mind, leaving sadness and pain in their wake. Forcing her gaze away, she focused her attention on Elizabeth.

Her friend and James sat before a low, wooden table. Elizabeth's tall frame was folded into a child-sized chair, her rose muslin gown floating onto the rug around her. James sat in an identical chair. Both leaned over sketchpads, diligently drawing with charcoals. Such a lovely image… a mother and son together, heads almost touching, sunshine pouring through the windowpanes. Elizabeth raised her head, murmured something to James, making him giggle. He leaned forward and placed a noisy kiss on Elizabeth's cheek, to which Elizabeth laughingly responded in kind.

A lump of longing tightened Allie's throat, and hot tears pushed behind her eyes. She would never have this… a son who gazed at her with innocent adoration. A child to give her love to. A husband and family of her own. She'd wanted it so badly, and for a long time, she'd managed to forget how much. But so many feelings and wants that she'd successfully buried were now once again exposed, like open wounds, every nerve raw and bleeding.

"Allie, how nice to see you. Come in, please."

Elizabeth's voice jerked her back, reminding her why she'd sought out her friend. She tried to offer a smile, but clearly her effort fell flat as Elizabeth's own smile faded into a look of concern. "Did you need to speak with me?"

Not trusting her voice, Allie merely nodded.

Elizabeth immediately rose, crossed to the door, then pulled a bell cord in the corner. She dampened a square of cloth in a ceramic bowl of water set near the hearth, then returned to James. "Mrs. Weston is on her way, darling," she said, cleaning his small hands of the charcoal streaks.

Just then a plump, middle-aged woman with twinkling eyes appeared in the doorway. As soon as James saw her, he grinned. "Biscuits!" he said.

Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, Mrs. Weston will bring you to fetch some biscuits." She enfolded him in a quick hug. "Will you save one for me?"

He held out three not-quite-clean fingers. "Save you two!"

Scampering over to the waiting governess, he slipped his small hand into hers, then they left the room, closing the door behind them.

"I did not mean to interrupt your time with James."

Elizabeth pressed her hand to the small of her back and stretched. "Don't be silly. You're not an interruption. I was quite ready to rise from that tiny chair, and you can see how heartbroken James was at the prospect of eating biscuits."

"How are you feeling today?"

"Very well." Her gaze swept over Allie's face. " 'Tis plain you cannot say the same."

"No, I cannot."

"Would you like to sit down?"

God help her, she couldn't even bear to look at the settee. She shook her head. "I prefer to stand." Then, before her courage and resolve deserted her, she said, "I cannot tell you how much I've enjoyed being here with you, Elizabeth. Seeing you again, meeting and getting to know your wonderful family… it has meant more to me than I can say."

"I feel the same."

Forcing herself to meet Elizabeth's gaze, she said, "But I must leave here. As soon as possible. I'm sorry…" Her voice trailed off as emotion clogged her throat.