Page 35 of Wicked with Him

He glanced her way, a frown on his face. “Did you never think he might care for you?”

“Never.” Amity laughed softly. “When I was younger, I both resented him for his insistence on dragging me along to ride and marveled at his intimidation of others who tried to stop him doing so. He would simply cite a long-held tradition of Sweets prowess during the hunt as his proof that I should excel at the sport, too, and drag me along.”

“Using the family history against the family present. Clever.”

“Manipulative,” she corrected him. “Never forget that my cousin is the master of schemes within schemes. Look at how he got me here. He never told me what he intended when he took me to Lady Barnes that night after our tryst. By the afternoon the next day, I was bundled into a carriage with a handful of my own clothes taken from my chambers by a maid he must have been paid off to keep silent about it. I was sent off to the country with no idea of my heading. I didn’t even know Fairbridge owned property here until I got here. The coachman was sworn to secrecy by him, too.”

“I can’t say I paid enough attention to his schemes before.”

“You should. Hopefully it will not be too late to save yourself the eventual cost, should you ever be so unfortunate as to irk him.”

“I will,” he promised, tossing her a smile that warmed her insides.

If they hurried, they could make love again before the dinner hour arrived.

Amity kicked her horse forward and set off at a canter on a now familiar roadway, knowing he’d follow. Crawford let her lead, and she reveled in this unexpected freedom to still make decisions around a man.

When she reached her cottage first, she jumped from the saddle and turned to watch Crawford’s slower arrival on his hired horse a few minutes later. He came at a slow trot, a smile on his lips for her, but it was very clear to her that he was used to a more energetic animal beneath him. She openly admired his relaxed posture in the saddle, though, and that attitude seemed apparent on every other occasion, too.

Roman was a good man, and a man she should have sought out long ago…and perhaps not just to be ruined by.

If she’d met Roman before Melody had, her life might have taken a decidedly more pleasant turn. At the very least, she might even have had a friend who valued her differing opinion. He might have learned to love her despite her family. He would have been someone ready to take her to bed at the drop of a hat or shawl, too. He would have made an excellent husband for herself if he’d not been so heartbroken over another.

Frustrated at the thought of never having what she really wanted from him, she swung about for the front door of her cottage—only to find a dust-covered young man getting up from sitting on the steps.

She took a pace back, surprised at seeing a stranger she hadn’t noticed lurking in front of her home.

Roman arrived and swung down from his horse and was at her side in an instant. “Who the hell are you to come sneaking around a lady’s home?”

“Forgive the intrusion. Miss Sweet, I’ve an urgent message for you.”

Roman drew back to let the messenger hand over a piece of parchment, but she noticed he did not relax at all. He hovered, eyeing the young man with suspicion.

Now that Amity’s startlement had passed, she smiled at the young man. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I’ll be on my way back to the inn, Miss Sweet, and will call again in the morning for your reply.”

“Thank you.”

When he was gone, Amity inspected the letter she held carefully.

“He called you by your real name,” Roman murmured, turning to stare at her.

“Yes, I noticed that, too.” The letter was sealed with black wax, but she recognized the insignia pressed into it. “This is Ravenswood’s seal.”

A sense of foreboding filled her, and she hurried to open it and read.

When she had, she wished she had not.

The duke was dead…and she was ordered to return to the ducal country estate by the new duke, the former Earl of Fairbridge, as his house guest, immediately. There was more but she couldn’t read it because knew she could not refuse to rejoin the family to mourn with them.

She lowered her trembling hand and stared at Roman in shock. To go back meant seeing her brother again. To face the consequences of her ruin and scandal. To be talked about in the most unflattering terms and have no escape from it.

To likely never see Roman again.

He took hold of her shaking fingers. “What does it say?”

“Ravenswood is dead. I have to go back.” Amity hiked up her skirts and hurried inside, beset with panic at the thought of what lay in store for her. She didn’t want to go back to her family. To her brother, to her aunts’ fussing. To a match with someone she could never want as much as one with Crawford now. Not now when she’d finally found contentment, if not happiness, here.