Page 90 of Souvenir of Love

“Tyndale, why?”

Marcus took a breath, as if entering a no-man’s land of memory he tried hard not to visit, and said softly, “Because I know what it is to be forced to leave a child behind.”

“You have a child?” James looked genuinely confused. “But I thought… Grenville said you have no family, no wife. You said you have nothing to lose.”

“And so I have not. I had no choice. I had to let him go.”

James reached out his hand.

Marcus stepped back. “A man should receive something in exchange for confessing his darkest secret, should he not?”

“Is that why you wish to go, then—you seek redemption?”

“There is no redemption for the likes of me.”

A kindred soul.“A penance, then?”

“Call it whatever you like.” Marcus’s laugh was bitter, but whether he was laughing at James’s romantic illusions or the lack of his own, James couldn’t say. “Only grant me leave to go.”

Thirty-Three

Jervis Jones swept off his hat. He was covered in dust, and his mud-spattered boots were planted squarely on the library’s finely patterned Oriental carpet. The earl’s expression held more resignation than hope. “I don’t suppose you’ve ridden hell-for-leather from Hartsdale bearing good news?”

Jervis shook his head. “You want me to give you the bad news, Captain? Or the worse news?”

Rafe winced. “I think I should prefer the bad news first.”

“Lady Elizabeth isn’t at Hartsdale.”

“I see.” Rafe steepled his hands on the polished mahogany desk. “Was she ever?”

Again, Jervis shook his head.

“And that would be the bad news, would it?” He closed his eyes. “And now you are going to tell me that my sister has run off with James Dinsmore.”

“No.”

Rafe’s eyes flew open, then narrowed suspiciously. “If that is not the worse news, might I prevail upon you to tell me what is?”

“You see, I know a fellow, who knows a fellow, whose brother’s sister’s cousin works in the kitchens at Hartsdale?—”

“Jones, I am in no mood for long-winded explanations.”

“Long-winded?” Jervis clapped a hand to his chest, clearly offended. “I am the soul of brevity.”

“And I am the soul of patience,” Rafe said sharply.

Jervis cleared his throat. “To cut a long story short…”

Rafe nodded approvingly.

“According to a kitchen maid at Hartsdale, the Norcrofts have been entertaining a lady from hereabouts. But the lady in question was most definitely not your sister.”

“Who was the lady in question?”

“Lady Anne Dinsmore.”

Rafe closed his eyes again. “Damn.” After a moment he opened his eyes, piercing Jones with his gaze. “Do you knowwhereshe is?”