Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Her face drops. It’s an insult, to be honest.
I look at her with all the contempt I feel, my hurt getting the better of me. I absolutely do not hate her, but I am at a loss. Feeling robbed and cheated. For the first time in my adult life, I have opened my heart, and now I am ruined forever, for I will never be so gullible and open ever again. Ever! I turn and march away, yelling at myself for the small sense of guilt I feel when I catch a glimpse of her pained expression.
No.
I am done. Finished.
Chapter 24
I stared at the ceiling all night. I tried not to relive every moment I had with Taya, assessing it carefully, searching for signs that I missed along the way that she was playing me. I can’t find any, but I know they must be there, I was just too distracted by desire, and now I am too exhausted to devote the time and attention needed to dig deep enough to find them. I want to never think about her again, and after this sleepless night, I will not.
I pick my way through breakfast the next morning, smiling sporadically when I sense Mama looking at me. I need to pull myself together before they sense my despondency and ask whatever the matter is with me. I could never explain, and, in truth, I never want anyone to ever know that I have been so pathetic. Fooled.
‘What is the matter, brother?’ Clara says on a whisper from beside me.
‘It is nothing you must worry your pretty little head with,’ I say, patting her hand where it is on the table. ‘Grown-up problems.’
She rolls her eyes, snatching her hand away, insulted. ‘You forget, brother, I have experienced heartbreak, so I am privy to the signs. Why does everyone around here insist on treating me like a foolish halfwit?’
I recoil. ‘I’d rather like to think I am treating you like an innocent, because that is what you are.’
She snorts. ‘I assure––’
‘Do not say it,’ I order harshly, fearful of what she might share. ‘Whatever it is you were to say, do not say it, for I cannot promise I will not hunt that lying little idiot down and end him.’
She grins. ‘I love how protective you are.’
‘It’s my job.’
‘That’s very sweet.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I would go and see Eliza, if I were you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she, like me, is not stupid.’ She comes closer. ‘Everyone knows you are in love with Taya Winters.’
What? Oh no. No, no, no. ‘I can assure you, Clara, I am not in love with Taya Winters.’
‘Oh, do be quiet, Frank,’ Mama chimes in, making my eyes turn quickly onto her.
‘I do not love anyone.’
‘If you say so,’ she sings.
My mother’s easy chirpiness confuses me. ‘Why are you so smiley?’ I ask. ‘You were about to burst a blood vessel just the other morning when …’ I peek at Clara out the corner of my eye. Her eyebrows are high. ‘When …’ Bugger it all, when what?
‘When she found Taya Winters in your bed?’ Clara says, casual and smug.
My jaw plummets to the table. How the hell does she know? She had run away!
Clara shrugs and pops a piece of bread in her mouth. ‘I heard Mama discussing the matter with Eliza.’
I point my incredulous glare to Mama. She too shrugs, nonchalant. ‘I was shocked, be sure of that, Francis. Now I can see rather clearly that you are in love with her. Why else would you mope around like this?’
‘See,’ Clara says. ‘Everyone knows.’
I stand. ‘Please excuse me.’ I am not hanging around here to be scrutinised. I am not in love with her. How can any man love such a deceitful, disingenuous woman? God, I sure do have a habit of picking them. But not any more. I shall be focusing on business for the foreseeable.
But, of course, now especially, it isn’t that simple, for my plans and potential deal with Fleming has been squashed in light of who the highwaywoman actually is. I groan, annoyed I still feel hurt for being played. I cannot see Eliza, for I refuse to step foot in the Winters residence.
God, I’m such an idiot. Has Taya left the country yet? Is Johnny home?
Can I see him and trust myself not to bark my demand to know what he was discussing with Fleming that caused such a hostile farewell?
So many questions …
I need to walk. Walk off this distress, so I leave the house and pace towards the main road, but when I stop to cross, I see a familiar carriage rumbling past, Sampson riding his horse alongside it, and I lose my breath, seeing her in the window. She does not look at me, her attention pointed forward defiantly. It is undoubtedly a good thing. My heart pounds. It annoys me.