Page 46 of Gone with the Rake

Penelope lightly touched his forearm. “I believe I owe Lord Thornton an explanation from my own mouth.”

Mr. Prescott sputtered something under his nose before looking around. “I shall wait by the window a few feet away, but I am not leaving this room.”

Without waiting for Thorn’s acknowledgment, he moved to stand on the other side of the room, his back to them. Good enough.

“Lord Thornton—” Penelope started timidly.

“Thorn,” he swiftly interrupted. “I asked you to call me Thorn.”

She frowned, confusion evident on her face. “I do not believe I had the pleasure.”

Now it was his turn to be confused. She’d called him that in the letters many times. Perhaps she thought the etiquette was different concerning letters and real-life interactions. “I have to say I am rather confused. Just the other day we were planning a meeting in person and now you come here to sever our betrothal?”

Her frown deepened. “I am not certain if there was a misunderstanding, but I thought we agreed on letters instead.”

“Weren’t you the one who offered that letters weren’t enough?”

She licked her lips, her fingers curling tighter into her skirts. “I proposed we get to know each other better, to pursue a friendship. I agreed there was no need for love or affection—”

“Then what were those letters?” Thorn bit out, before thinking. Of course, that’s all he had wanted, too. He was the one who had told her that all he could offer was friendship. But that was before he fell for her wit and her incredible mind. And she had flirted with him during their correspondence, had she not? He tried to rein in his frustration and continued, calmer now, “You seemed to have a different intention in them.”

Penelope straightened her shoulders, more confident in her indignation. “What letters do you speak of? The ones you did not answer?”

Thorn’s breaths quickened, his head beginning to ache. “The ones I did not answer? If there’s a single one I’ve missed, I would not know. But the ones I have received, I’ve answered them all!”

“Do not mock me.” Her expression was awash with confusion. “I sent you two letters, and you’ve not answered a single one. You broke your only promise to me, which I take as your retraction of your proposal.”

Thorn stepped away, his fingers on his temples. “I would never.”

“So, you still want to marry me?” Her voice sounded as though it came from afar, her expression incredulous. Thorn’s mind was in complete chaos.

She’d never received his letters. Neither did he, apparently.

Then who was he communicating with? Were any of the letters from her? Or were even the first ones faked?

What was this—a game? Had someone purposefully made a fool out of him? Made him fall in love with them just to break his heart? But why? And who would do such a thing?

Was it one of his jilted lovers?

He didn’t think he’d hurt anyone enough to concoct such a heartless ruse. He rarely spent more than one night with a woman, and who would go through all this trouble because of one night?

The woman he’d had relations with last—or rather the one with whom he apparently had failed to have relations—seemed rather angry. But he didn’t think she would go through all this trouble just to spite him.

No, this was no jilted lover. This level of planning and meticulously carrying out the deceit required hatred that went deeper than a meaningless tryst. There was only one person who hated him so. Coincidentally, this person was currently residing under Thorn’s roof, possessing the ability to easily intercept his mail. And she also had a vested interest in breaking his betrothal.

Rosemary. His step-witch.

Thorn thrust his hands in his pockets, his fingers encountering the ruby ring. Once again, he’d almost lost another bride. And he’d almost thought he’d fallen in love.

What a foolish idiot he was.

Rosemary was neither cunning nor clever enough to pen those letters, though. Besides, he would have recognized her penmanship. She must have hired someone. Someone who had managed to touch his heart. He squeezed the ring in his fist.

What about the masquerade? Was that when she planned to end the ruse?

He shook his head. Whatever her plan was, he was going to find out either during or shortly after the masquerade.

“I thought so.” Miss Penelope’s voice brought him back from his troubled thoughts.