Latymer by Tracey Devlyn Page B

toward the living quarters. “Is Sydney here?” he asked, hoping his employer, Sydney Hunt, was just upstairs.
    Amelia shook her head. “She left with Lord Danforth several hours ago—his lordship received a summons from the Earl of Somerton.”
    “Any idea why?”
    “No. His note didn’t indicate a reason, only a command to hurry.” She sent a wary glance toward the drawing room. “Harry should be out front with your horse by now. I’ll be fine here.”
    He followed the direction of her gaze. Inside, an unconscious Latymer sprawled on Sydney’s favorite lavender sofa. Mac had half dragged, half carried the traitor in a short while ago. The situation was reminiscent of when Cameron Adair had brought his dying brother, Mick, home. The memory turned Mac’s stomach. “You’ve sent for Adair?”
    She nodded. “Yes, though I’m not sure that was the right decision. Surely we could have found someone else to guard Lord Latymer until all this is over.”
    He understood her caution regarding Adair. The man was too much of a mystery. He made no bones about the fact that his one true loyalty was to himself and himself alone. “Adair’s intimately involved in this situation now. To bring someone else in at this late hour would delay us even further. And there’s no way I can take Latymer with me in his condition.”
    “Charlotte should be here any minute,” Amelia said, referring to her friend—a brilliant apothecary. She lowered her voice. “If the bullet has not caused irreparable damage, Charlotte will have him on the path to recovery in no time.”
    Silence filled the space between them. Their last parting had been abrupt, emotional, and uncertain. In the aftermath of his brother’s death, Mac knew only a violent need to locate Latymer and kill him. All else, even his newfound feelings for Amelia, had not mattered in the turmoil of his grief.
    Now, he knew a different driving need—to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless. To apologize for all the lost time and make up for bitter regrets. Mac ached for this woman, bone-deep and heart sore. Two feet separated them, yet the distance felt like an abyss with no end.
    Before she came to work at the Hunt Agency, Amelia was forced to give her baby boy to the Foundling Hospital. From the moment Mac had uncovered Amelia’s secret, he’d steered clear of her. He feared that his years of pent-up hatred for what his own mother had done to him and his brother would eventually be taken out on her.
    In the four years they’d worked together, he’d never once asked her why she’d placed her infant son in a home for orphans. He had never allowed himself to consider that a young, unwed mother, alone in the city, had precious few choices. It wasn’t until this last year that he’d permitted himself to focus on who the intelligent, beautiful woman was and not on the hard choices she’d had to make. 
    The last few hours had brought clarity to his thoughts and reluctant understanding to his heart. For the first time in a long time, hope entered into his life again. Forcing back the pride that had kept them apart for so long, he asked, “Is it too late?”
    She peered up at him with startled, skeptical eyes.
    “For us?” he clarified.
    “Mac, I—”
    “Amelia, I was wrong. So wrong.” Wanting desperately to make things right between them, he clasped her hands between his own. “I’ve known for some time now that I was wrong, but I was too damned proud to admit my mistake. I should never have judged you so harshly.”
    “Thank you, Mac.” She squeezed his hands and smiled a trembling, bittersweet smile. “The timing—”
    He touched a finger to her cheek. “I know. The timing is all wrong, but when is it ever right? Things will get better. I promise.” Mac knew that over the past five years Amelia had scrimped and saved with the goal of reclaiming her son from the Foundling Hospital. “Your son will need—and deserve—all your