Page 100 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“You do forgive me?” he said.

“Of course.”

Yes, with her kind heart, she would always forgive his transgressions. But would she ever be able to forget?

He lifted his hand to her cheek, cursing himself as she flinched. “I trust your pain will have eased by the morning.”

She nodded, her eyes glistening, then took her leave, while he remained, alone, in the drawing room.

James returned to the study and poured another brandy. But liquor was not the cure for the ache in his heart, nor the guilt gnawing at his soul. Deciding against a second glass, he ascended the stairs, pausing outside his wife’s door. But there was no telltale light under the doorframe, nor any sounds of activity.

Tomorrow he would begin again and prove himself worthy of her. Assuming she was disposed to give him another chance. But how many more chances would she afford him?

When James woke, the fire in his bedchamber had completely burned out. A faint silver light gleamed beneath the curtains, signifying the onset of dawn.

Bang, bang, bang!

He sat up, his heart hammering against this chest.

“What the bloody hell…?”

The door burst open and a half-dressed footman appeared.

“Charles!” James cried. “What the devil are you doing at this hour—and in such a state?”

“Oh, Lord Bedford, sir, I-I don’t know what to say!”

“Just say it, you fool. Or do you want to be dismissed?”

“James?”

Shit.

Cordelia’s ashen face appeared in the doorway, pain furrowing her brow.

“Look what you’ve done, you dolt!” James said. “You’ve woken my wife! You’d better have a damned good reason. Is the house ablaze?”

“No, sir.”

“Has anyone taken ill?”

“No.”

“Then what’s happened?”

“I-it’s Miss Georgiana,” the footman said. “She’s run off.”

“Sweet Lord!” Cordelia cried, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” James said. “You’re distressing Lady Bedford. My sister’s in her chamber.”

“She’s not, sir. I saw her running toward the stables, then, moments later, a carriage went down the drive.”

“Whose carriage?” James said.

“It bore the Leaney crest, sir.”

“No…” Cordelia whispered, her eyes widening. “Dear God, no…”