Page 93 of Aurelia

Do what you will with this information, I will tell nobody of her existence. Or the boy’s.

Roland read the letter again. And then again. And then one more time, but he still could not believe the contents.

Rebecca was alive? And with a son?

His son?

His heart thudded so loudly it seemed to echo in the cavernous room.

Roland shook his head. How could this be?

He turned back to the letter and stared. Whoever had written it was obviously educated. Who the hell was it? And how long had the letter been under the carpet?

Roland thrust a shaking hand through his hair and shook his head. “Bloody. Fucking. Hell.”

Chapter 20

Aurelia tossed and turned for two hours after leaving Lord Crewe, feeling like a fool for the way she’d fled from the library as if the devil himself had been on her heels.

Her intention hadn’t been to behave as if nothing had happened—that would have been impossible—but she had wanted to be sophisticated and act as if what they had done, or what he’d done, rather, had not changed anything between them.

Instead, she had behaved like a naïve fool, rebuffing every overture the earl had made to talk to her and behaving as if he had done something wrong to her.

She would set him straight on that score immediately.

Indeed, she would pull him aside after breakfast and ask for a few moments of privacy.

Exhausted by her fretting but relieved to have finally made a decision, she drifted into an uneasy sleep, waking perhaps an hour after dawn.

Lord Crewe usually ate after he had taken his morning ride, so she should be in good time to catch him.

But when she arrived in the breakfast room there was only Arthur.

“Are we the first?”

“Guustin is at his mother’s, Celsa is still abed, and Crewe left this morning at first light,” Arthur said, and then coughed in his napkin.

Aurelia wanted to ask where the earl had gone but was distracted by the horrific coughing bout. When it had passed, Arthur was pale and perspiring.

“Are you not feeling well?” she asked rather stupidly as he raised his badly trembling cup of tea to his mouth.

He swallowed several times and forced a sickly smile. “I seem to have contracted a rather nasty cold.”

“Can I do anything for you?” she asked, alarmed by his condition.

“You are very kind, but I believe all I need is rest.” He smiled, looking a little bit less peaked. “I’ll be right as rain after a few days in bed. Indeed, I believe I will head that way now.” He pushed up from his chair and tottered out of the room.

The door had scarcely closed behind him when it opened again and Aurelia looked up from her coffee cup, assuming Arthur had forgotten something.

But it was the footman, Charles. He glanced around, as if to see if anyone else was in the room, and then said, “I was to give this to you when you were alone, miss.” He handed her a folded piece of parchment sealed with the earl’s distinctive oxblood wax.

“Thank you, Charles,” she said, her face heating at the implications of a letter delivered in such secrecy.

Aurelia’s hands shook as she unfolded the parchment and stared down at the bold handwriting.

My darling Aurelia,

Unfortunately, an unexpected matter has summoned me away. I wish I could say how long I will be gone, but quite frankly, I have no idea just now. It is too important to ignore, or I would have waited to bid you goodbye.