Almost a Princess by Elizabeth Thornton Page A

had always been ambivalent. He hadn’t been much of a brother to Letty. On the other hand, his devotion to his mother had been unquestionable. It had always chafed him that his mother had been given a pauper’s burial and he’d promised Letty that one day he’d have their mother’s remains removed to a proper churchyard with a proper service. He’d kept his promise, but he’d done it posthumously, through his last will and testament.
    She and Oliver had arranged everything. It was just too much for Letty who had two babies to look after by this time. But Gideon’s gesture had impressed them all. It was more than a gesture. He’d left enough money to cover all the expenses, and the expenses were considerable.
    She blew out the candle and crawled into bed. She fell asleep trying to imagine how she would have turned out if she’d been raised in a poorhouse.
    In the aftermath of their pleasure, Case felt physically replete and vaguely relieved. Nothing had changed. Amelia had been the perfect solution to his black mood. They’d been lovers once before and she hadn’t disappointed him. She had a carnal appetite to match his own. She was just the kind of woman he preferred.
    There were no promises on either side when he left her, and that was something else he liked about Amelia. She wouldn’t make claims on him any more than she would allow him to make claims on her. And he could count on her discretion. She had a position in society to maintain, and though the whole world might suspect that she had taken a lover, as long as she was discreet, she would still be invited everywhere.
    It was different for a man. He could be as indiscreet as he liked and no one would raise an eyebrow. It was unjust, but it was the way of their world. The woman always paid the penalty.
    Amelia’s house was just off Berkeley Square and only a ten-minute walk to his own rooms in the Albany. In spite of the late hour, there were plenty of people about, and plenty of carriages and hackneys coming and going. This was Mayfair, where the residents rose at noon and idled the hours away in a round of partying until they fell into bed just before dawn.
    He waved a hackney away and decided the cool night air was just what he needed to clear his mind. He thought about Jane Mayberry on the walk home and felt a small pang of guilt for having set Harper to watch her. He’d done it on the spur of the moment and now he regretted it. Law-abiding, decent citizens had a right to their privacy.
    She’s very beautiful.
Amelia’s words flitted into his mind.
Beautiful
wasn’t the word he would use to describe Jane Mayberry.
Uncommon,
perhaps, or
arresting.
Her face had character and intelligence rather than the perfection beauty demanded. Freddie had seemed quite taken with her. He wondered what their relationship was.
    He was suddenly as restless as he had been before his encounter with Amelia. For once, he didn’t try to trace the source of his irritation. He resolutely put Jane Mayberry from his mind and on the rest of the walk home, concentrated on Gideon Piers, speculating on why it had taken him three years to show his hand again, and finally debating whether everyone else was right and he was wrong. Maybe Piers really
was
dead; maybe the murder in Hyde Park
was
the work of someone impersonating Piers and that would be the end of it.
    The porter opened the great iron gates for him, and as Case crossed the courtyard to the front portico of the house, he noted that the windows in his own rooms were ablaze with lights. They shouldn’t have been. He’d told his manservant and Harper not to wait up for him. One candle in the hallway was all that was required to light his way.
    He took the portico steps two at a time and made straight for his rooms on the first floor up. Ruggles, his manservant, opened the door for him.
    As he divested his master of his coat, hat, and gloves, Ruggles said, “It’s Harper, your lordship. He was set upon and robbed