It's Always Been You by Victoria Dahl Page B

in a shop when he had funds enough to run a plantation.
    She’d left her husband. She must have.
    Still, it had nothing to do with Aidan. He’d pass an evening with Mrs. Renier just to prove it.
    He told himself to leave off staring out the window and be productive. An hour of work and he could bathe and dress and set off for Mrs. Renier’s house and a few hours of oblivion. But he was so damn tired.
    Weariness pulled at him as if weights hung from his wrists and ankles. The feeling should’ve been familiar. He never slept well. But usually his tiredness was a restless ache. This felt more like a shroud of lead.
    He glanced at the clock. Seven P .M.
    Perhaps the sleepless nights in Hull had finally caught him up.
    “Penrose,” he said sharply.
    The poor man looked downright worried as he rushed into the room.
    “You may depart for the evening.”
    “But, sir—”
    “On your way out, tell Whitestone to ready a bath.”
    “Of course, but if I may . . .” Penrose held up a sheaf of papers.
    Aidan caught sight of the seal at the top of the first page. An important contact in France. Someone he’d been waiting to hear from. But his head felt ready to explode and his bones seemed to want to fall from his skin.
    He reached for the decanter and poured himself another glass. “No,” he finally answered. “Not tonight.”
    “Oh. Of course.” Penrose hesitated a moment, as if waiting for Aidan to admit he was only joking.
    Just as he turned away, Aidan gave in to one last impulse. “Have you sent the note to Mrs. Renier yet?”
    “I have it here, sir.” He raised a small square of paper.
    “I’ve changed my mind. Let her know I’ll come to dinner tomorrow.”
    “Of course,” Penrose said as he retreated.
    Relief spread through Aidan’s muscles. Tonight he would simply have dinner and a bath and find his bed. He didn’t need a woman’s body tonight. He didn’t need to exhaust himself, he was already there.
    He took his bath, then drank too much, forgetting dinner altogether as he fell into bed. Amazingly, he got through the night with no dreams, but he woke with a memory, and a certain mission. A sense of purpose that had nothing to do with his work, for once.
    He had to return to his family home, not to visit his mother or his brother or any of the dozen people sure to be hanging about. He had to return and find the box he’d hidden in the attic so many years ago. Because the contents of that box would give him a reason to see Kate again.

Chapter 9
    “Aidan, my darling boy!” His mother enveloped him in an energetic embrace as he bent down to kiss her cheek.
    “Mother. How are you?”
    Her arms squeezed harder. “Thank God you’ve come! It’s madness!”
    The words didn’t cause any alarm. His mother’s world was always in crisis. “What’s happened now?”
    “Your cousin Harry,” she wailed. “He means to propose to . . . to someone, and I’m sure he’s chosen Miss Samuel, but he refuses to confirm.”
    “Confirm what?”
    “That he means to ask for her hand!”
    Aidan shook his head. “But he hasn’t asked yet, correct? Perhaps he’d like to wait until the woman has accepted his suit.”
    “Oh, but there is planning to be done! We must have a party to announce it, and it must be before my birthday, and there is only so much I can do without knowing who the bride will be. It is all so frustrating.”
    He frowned. “There are two Miss Samuels, aren’t there? Which one do you mean?”
    “I don’t know! If your sister were here, she could surely find out more. I’ve asked her to return.”
    That caught even Aidan off-guard. He’d been reaching toward the sideboard for a drink, but he stopped to frown at her. “You asked Marissa to return early from her honeymoon?”
    “Well, she is the Miss Samuels’ best friend.”
    His brother, Edward, stepped into the drawing room, and Aidan met his bemused gaze with his own. “Ah. Completely logical then. What did Marissa say?”
    “Pooh.