Page 114 of The Art of Sinning

By the time she fell into a fitful sleep, it was nearly dawn. When she awoke, the noonday sun was streaming through her windows.

For a moment, she considered just lying there all day. She couldn’t cry any more; there were no tears left. But she could wallow in her misery, in the pain of having a blade lodged in her heart.

Like the blade in Jeremy’s cursed painting, it held untold torment. She stared sullenly at the ceiling. Perhapsthatwas why he’d painted the image, as a prediction of how he was plotting to stab her through the heart.

She sighed. A self-pitying bit of nonsense if she’d ever heard one.

What was she doing? Trying to turn herself into Edwin? That would accomplish nothing. Better to keep busy, to do something useful to keep her mind off the pain.

She got up.

Some hours later, she was dutifully putting sewing kits together in the drawing room when her butler entered. “Mr. Keane is here to see you, my lady.”

Just like that, the blade she’d been fighting to ignore sliced deep once again.

Curse him. No doubt he had come to try to convince her that none of it mattered. That they should marry anyway, because she was ruined.She couldn’t go through this again. She would put an end to the agony once and for all.

“Show him in,” she said in her loftiest voice. Rising from her chair, she fought the urge to look in the mirror over the fireplace. She knew what she’d see—a haggard woman in an old gown, whose hair barely looked presentable.

She didn’t even care. Especially once she caught sight ofhim.

Jeremy looked even worse than she. Although his unruly tumble of blond curls somewhat enhanced his appeal, his bloodshot eyes and drawn face did not. Had he spent the night drinking? He certainly looked it.

She fought a twinge of sympathy until she saw the large box he held in his right hand. Oh no. Not the painting. If he was here to explain away what he’d depicted, she would toss him out on his ear, and his dratted canvas, too.

Better yet, she would tromp on it.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Keane,” she said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt. “What brings you back to the wilds of Hertfordshire?”

“So formal already, sweetheart? I would have thought you’d take at least a week to revert to calling me Mr. Keane.”

The wordsweetheartwas all it took to crumble her defenses. “Please, Jeremy, don’t toy with me. I can’t bear it.”

He looked stricken. “I understand. Because I couldn’t bear being away from you, not for one night, even knowing it was necessary.”

Her throat felt tight and raw. “Necessary?”

“You asked me to prove that I had gotten past the deaths of my wife and son. So that’s why I’m here. To offer my proofs.”

All she could do was gape at him.

He laid a sheaf of papers on the table. “Here’s my contract with Amanda, selling her my half of the mills. We practically had to beat the lawyers about the head and shoulders to get them to write it up so quickly, but they managed it.”

She stared at the contract. “That only proves you’ve got out from under the mills at last, which is exactly what you wanted anyway.” She lifted a bewildered gaze to him. “Although Amanda said your mother had some say in it and had refused to sign the papers unless you came back to Montague to settle other affairs.”

“Yes.” He moved closer. “Which is why my mother and sister and I are leaving for Philadelphia in a few months.” His gaze burned into hers. “After you and I wed.”

Her blood began to pound in spite of her caution. “Assuming that we do.”

He flinched. “Yes.”

“And you’re really planning to return to America.”

“For a visit, yes. And I’d like you to go with me.” His voice turned husky. “I want to welcome you to my home. To introduce you to the other members of my family. I want you to see that I trulyhaveput the past behind me.”

Hope had begun to replace the blade in her heart, but she was afraid to embrace it entirely. “Is it safe to assume that you’ve mended the rift with your mother?”

A soft smile crossed his features. “Considering that she ordered me to carry you triumphantly back to London, I think it’s safe to assume that I have.” His eyes turned serious once more. “I have much to tell you, my love, but before I do, I have to show you something.”