Free Lady Amelia's Secret Lover by Victoria Alexander

poetic touch—expensive baubles—”
    “The bracelet was yours?” She shook her head. “But I found it in one of Robert’s drawers.”
    He raised a brow. “Snooping, were we?”
    “Not at all,” she snapped. “I couldn’t find a pair of gloves, and on occasion, mine will end up in his drawer. I was merely—but that has nothing to do with anything.”
    “It seems to me it has everything to do with everything.” He shook his head in a reproachful manner. “Robert did me the favor of picking up the bracelet from the jeweler’s. If you had not been looking where you had no business looking, you would not have seen it and never would have thought Robert had a mistress. Which is what started all this in the first place.”
    Her gaze turned back to her husband on the dance floor. “Then he really doesn’t have a mistress?”
    “I told you he didn’t.” A smug note sounded in Harry’s voice.
    “So did he,” she murmured. She watched her husband dance with another woman in his arms and wondered why she wasn’t more relieved than she was. There was some of that, certainly, but…
    “I know I’m going to regret becoming any more involved in this than I already am, and if I were even half as clever as I think, I should let this go, but apparently I don’t have a brain in my head.” Harry chose his words with care. “You thought, understandably so given the evidence, that Robert was involved with another woman. Now you know otherwise. Why aren’t you happier?”
    Why indeed? Why was there now a dreadful sense of despair, as if all was truly lost, instead of relief?
    She drew a deep breath. “If the problem between us is not another woman, at least in part, then it lies entirely with us. With what we’ve had and what we’ve lost. With what we’ve become.” She met his gaze. “I don’t know what to do now.”
    “Might I suggest you speak to your husband,” Harry said quietly.
    “I—” She shook her head. “Would you be so good as to take me home?”
    Harry frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Robert?”
    “No, Harry, I don’t, not at the moment. I’m not sure what to say.” She drew a deep breath and was surprised she could breathe at all. “And I think that’s the problem.”
    He studied her for a long moment, looking so much like her husband, she thought her heart would break if it hadn’t already.
    “Very well then, I shall call for my carriage and fetch your wrap.”
    She shook her head. “I’ll do it myself and meet you by the entry. I find I am in something of a hurry.”
    “Perhaps I should find Robert—”
    “I would much prefer not to be in his company at the moment. And I do appreciate you honoring my wishes.” She nodded and hurried off, leaving Harry to stare after her.
    Not that she cared. Harry was the last thing on her mind. Within a few minutes she had collected her wrap and now waited impatiently for her brother-in-law. She needed to think, and she couldn’t do that here. The import of her discovery gripped her with an unrelenting ferocity, and it was all she could do to keep from weeping right here in Mrs. Amherst’s entry hall.
    A footman approached her. “Beg pardon, ma’am. Mr. Hathaway sends his apologies. He has been delayed and suggests you await him in his carriage.”
    She smiled her thanks and stepped out the door just as Harry’s carriage pulled up. Another footman opened the carriage door for her and helped her in.She collapsed onto the forward facing seat, grateful for the dark and the solitude.
    It seemed to her she had two choices regarding the rest of her life. She could go on with Robert as they had and life would be…content if somewhat lacking. Most women would be happy with what she had. But would she? Day after day, year after year, for the rest of her life? Or she could leave him. Divorce was not something she would consider, but they could live separate lives, go their separate ways. Some husbands and wives did. And