Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

G ideon's skull felt like it was being cleaved in half. He groaned as he woke up, his hand instantly clamping over his temple as he curled into himself, attempting to quell the throbbing pain. The curtains were drawn back cruelly, sunlight streaming in like an unwelcome torment, deepening the ache behind his eyes.

His memory of the previous night was patchy. Clearly, he'd drunk too much. But how had he ended up in bed? He couldn't remember leaving the parlor. He couldn't remember much of anything at all last night, he realized. The last thing he recalled was lingering by Jasper's grave, harboring more and more resentment as the sun began to set. Yet, it was the overwhelming guilt that had driven him to drown himself in cognac. Guilt over not being able to save his brother, guilt over actions he couldn't confess to Amelia, and guilt of putting his ridiculous quest for vengeance before his wife. The cognac was meant to erase such thoughts, but they returned with a relentless fury the moment he opened his eyes.

Barely managing to shuffle up for the bell by his nightstand, Gideon was able to ring for his valet. Despite his raging megrim, he had a day ahead of him to prepare for. Dressing was a slow, torturous affair, riddled with pain with every movement he made. Finally ready, he left his chambers and headed downstairs, intent on quelling the hunger that gnawed at him.

As he drew near to the morning room, thoughts of Amelia resurfaced—and his guilt doubled. He shouldn't have been so cold to her last evening. They had moved beyond that now. With the affection he felt for her, there was no reason not to have told her the truth about his brother and about his past. Yes, it would mean baring his soul to her, something he had not done with anyone else in the past decade, but surely that was the next step in their relationship.

When he arrived and found the morning room empty, Gideon was tempted to go in search of her. But his hunger and pain prevailed, leading him to collapse into the closest chaise. From there, he sat and sipped on his coffee, deep in his musings. During the whole time he was there, however, Amelia never joined.

Was she still upset with him? Gideon polished off the rest of his meal and stood to go in search of her. He would have to swallow his pride and beg for her forgiveness, an act he was more than willing to undertake.

Only, when he arrived at her bedchamber, she wasn't there either. He didn't bother to linger, instead heading to the one place in the castle where he hoped he would find her.

And true to his suspicions, there she was. Amelia turned when he entered the small library, milling through sheets of paper that were gathered in her hands. Their eyes briefly met, but then she quickly looked away.

"I did not see you at breakfast," he began, pausing by the door.

Amelia continued to busy herself with gathering her short stories. Gideon couldn't understand why. Well, he could, he supposed.

"I ate early," she murmured.

"I see." The air between them thickened and grew uncomfortable. Gideon held his breath, trying to form his next words carefully. "Amelia, I must apologize for how I spoke to you last night."

"You are already forgiven." She still would not look at him.

Because of that, Gideon felt compelled to explain further. "The name you spoke last night… well, it is quite a sensitive topic for me and I was not prepared for that conversation."

"I completely understand."

"Then why do you avoid my eyes?"

Finished with her task, she turned to face him, thinning her lips. She stared at him for a long moment and Gideon suddenly felt as if he hadn't a clue what was going through her mind.

"It seems you do not remember what you said to me last night," she said, "while you were in your cups."

Gideon frowned in bemusement. Trying to remember anything right now only made his head pound more ferociously.

She clearly noticed his confusion because she explained, "You spoke of your plans to have the marriage annulled. And the reason you became the Masked Rogue."

Like a lightning bolt striking right through his head, the memories of last night came flashing through his mind. Stark horror descended on Gideon as he recalled all the things he'd said to her, secrets he had vowed to keep closely guarded, and truths he had sworn to never say aloud. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. He could only stare at her, gauging her response.

Yet, in her gaze, there was no judgment, no scorn. She was not looking down at him like he'd expected her to. Rather, she regarded him with an unexpected level of sympathy that almost made him feel guilty.

Amelia took a step towards him, her eyes trained solely on his. Gently, she reached for his hand. "I do not blame you, Gideon. My heart aches for all that you have endured that led you down this path."

"I don't need pity," he responded, a crack in his voice. He felt his carefully constructed fa?ade crumble right before his very eyes, exposing his true self to her. She was finally seeing him for who he was. And it terrified him.

"But how can I not feel it?" she insisted. "Now that I know the truth. Now that I know how you and your family suffered at the hands of those men. At the hands of—" She broke off, as if she couldn't bear to finish. Gideon watched as she visibly gathered herself to continue. "But you are not alone anymore, Gideon. You do not have to suffer anymore. You have your trusted servant, Thomas. You have a dear and loyal friend in Lewis. And you have me." She placed his hand against her chest, her heart, her eyes pleading. "You don't have to continue down this path of vengeance any longer."

Gideon felt the heat rush from his body at her words. "Surely you are not saying I should abandon everything I've worked toward? And let those men escape justice?"

"I am saying that you must learn to forgive… before you lose yourself," she insisted. Hurt flashed in her eyes when he jerked away his hand but she stood her ground. "They deserve nothing less, but you should not turn into those monsters on your path down to seal their fates."

"Their fates were sealed the moment they exploited my father!" Gideon hissed. He stalked away from her, his fury threatening to choke him. He couldn't believe he'd almost fallen for it. To think he'd bared himself to her only for her to claw at his raw flesh as if his pain were nothing.

"And what you are becoming is no better!" Amelia countered, her tone rising slightly in what sounded eerily like desperation. She tried approaching again. "Let go of that part of yourself. Last night, you told me you couldn't bear for me to leave your side. If even a breath of that was true, then let go of this burn for revenge and live happily with—"

"I think it has finally become clear to me now. It is clear you are more than willing to trivialize my suffering to even suggest such a thing," Gideon growled. He pulled away again, needing to distance himself from her. "And here, I thought you'd stand by me."

"I do stand by you!"

"Clearly not! Just like Lewis, you presume to understand my agony, my suffering, but only when it suits you."

"Lewis only wants what is best for you, Gideon."

His heart stung at the betrayal he felt. "A pitiful excuse to put a knife into my back, isn't it?" Gideon couldn't bear to look at her any longer. Watching tears fill her eyes with every sharp sting from his tongue only muddled his mind and made it harder to think.

He pivoted sharply, intent on escaping the suffocating room and the agonizing conversation.

She halted him with three words. " For me, Gideon ."

He stood by the door, his hand clinging to the handle, his body torn in two. Between running back to her side and taking her in his arms, comforting her, and vowing to never leave her side again. And marching forward on this path, remaining on track, and not betraying the memory of Jasper and his father. No. He couldn't allow himself to be weak. Not when he was so close to his goal. She would understand someday.

He could spend the rest of his life seeking her forgiveness if he had to, but for his family, it was already too late.

He didn't say another word. Heaving open the door, he exited the room.

Yet, with each step he took away from the library, a gnawing sense of regret began to surface—a solitary, nagging feeling that he might have just made a grave mistake.

She had to leave. Today, before dawn had fully broken.

Amelia could no longer wait for Gideon to come to his senses. She had, begrudgingly, given him an entire day to think about what she'd said, to at least allow her to offer an olive branch. The last thing she wanted was to take this drastic step.

Yet, with every second that went by in silence, she was risking Dorothy's safety—even her life, and it became painfully clear that her blissful days at Castle Stanhope had finally come to an end.

"But, Your Grace, where will you go?" Jenny's sad little whisper nearly tore at what little strength Amelia had left.

She forced back her tears, not wanting her maid to see how badly she wished things could be different. "I cannot say, Jenny," was the only response she could give.

Jenny fell quiet once more. The only sounds to grace them were their soft footfalls that echoed gloomily in the empty corridor. Amelia held nothing but a reticule with a meager amount of change for travel, while Jenny carried a small trunk containing the few clothes and material possessions from Amelia's life before the castle. She would leave everything Gideon had provided for her behind.

"Does His Grace know of your intentions to leave?" Jenny asked, breaking the silence once more.

Amelia simply shook her head in response. It was clear she'd wounded Gideon deeply with her suggestion to abandon his path of vengeance. So much so that he'd gone out of his way to avoid her for the entire day, giving her little choice. She would use what little money she had to go to Brighton where her sister resided. Only once she was there would she think about the consequences of her actions, knowing that she might be putting herself and Dorothy in more danger if she suddenly showed up.

But it was her only option now. Only chance to perhaps save her sister and live knowing that she had tried everything she could.

She did not yet have access to her inheritance and, at this rate, she would never get the chance to ask Gideon to do something about her sister's plight. Just like before, she was on her own once more, left to take care of things with little regard for her own wants.

Amelia held her head high as she fought the tears that stung her eyes—and failed. Every step she took towards the front door maimed a piece of her soul, a phantom shard left behind on the carpeted floors of Castle Stanhope. She wanted to turn back, march right into Gideon's bedchamber, and tell him how much she loved him. Even if he did not feel the same, it pained her to know that she might never be able to confess the true feelings weighing heavily on her heart.

When she arrived at the foyer, Amelia's steps faltered to a halt. The letter she had been holding since leaving her chambers now seemed to singe her fingertips. As bravely as she could, she turned to face Jenny.

The maid was already in tears and it tore right through Amelia's bravado. "I'm so sorry, please ignore me, Your Grace," Jenny sobbed. "It is just… I do not wish to see you go."

"It is for the best," Amelia whispered between her sniffles. Pulling a napkin from her reticule, she wiped the maid's tears, then squared her shoulders. "But I must. And I need you to do one thing for me before I leave, Jenny. Please, you mustn't forget. Leave this letter on the Duke's desk in his study amidst the rest of his correspondences."

Amelia handed the letter to Jenny and took her trunk from the maid's hands. Jenny hardly spared it a glance, even though she clutched it protectively to her chest. "Be safe, Your Grace."

"I will." She gave a simple nod to Jenny. Her legs felt like lead as she turned and stepped past the threshold of the castle. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, bathing the expanse before her in a deep red hue. Amelia forced herself to keep moving as she shuffled her way across the driveway, fearing a moment's pause might weaken her resolve.

The letter she'd left with Gideon, now in Jenny's care, would say her farewells. She only hoped that she was long gone by the time it reached him.