Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“His lordship?”
“Yes, dear.”
Alessia frowns, and Danny’s expression echoes hers.
“Did you not know? Maxim is the Earl of Trevethick.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Earl of Trevethick?
“This is his house,” Danny says gently, as if talking to a child. “All the land surrounding the house. The village—” She stops. “He didn’t tell you?”
Alessia shakes her head.
“I see.” Danny’s white brows knit together, but she shrugs. “Well, I’m sure he had his reasons. Now, shall I leave you to get dressed? Your bag of clothes is on the chair.”
Alessia nods, and Danny takes her leave, shutting the door behind her. Stunned, Alessia stares at the closed door, her mind imploding. Her knowledge of the English peerage is limited to two Georgette Heyer books her grandmother had smuggled into Albania. As far as Alessia knows, there is no aristocracy in her country. In ancient times yes, but since the Communists had seized all land after the Second World War, the nobles that lived there had fled.
But here…Mister Maxim is an earl.
No. Not Mister. He’s Lord Maxim.
Milord.
Why didn’t he tell her?
And the answer echoes loudly and painfully through her head.
Because she is his cleaner.
Nëse pastruesi do të thotë konkubinë.
If by cleaner you mean concubine.
She sucks in a breath, wrapping the bathrobe tighter around herself against the winter chill and this distressing news.
Why did he keep this from her?
Because she is not good enough for him, of course.
She is only good for one thing….
Her stomach lurches at his betrayal. How could she be so gullible? Feeling raw and wounded by his dishonesty, she wipes away the tears that spring to her eyes. She’s been in denial.
Her relationship with him has been too good to be true.
Deep down she suspected this. And now she knows the truth.
But he never made any promises to her. Those were all in her head. He’s never told her he loves her….He’s never pretended to love her. Yet in the short time she’s known him, she’s fallen for him. Fallen from a great height.
I am a fool. A misguided fool in love.
She closes her eyes in anguish as hot tears of shame and regret course down her cheeks. Furious, she dashes them away and begins to dry herself briskly.
This is her wake-up call.
She takes a long breath—she’s cried enough. Her deepening anger gives her momentum. She’s not going to cry over him. She’s mad at him, and at herself for being so stupid.
In her heart she knows that her fury is masking her hurt, and she’s grateful for it. It’s less painful than his betrayal.
She drops the robe on the floor, grabs the bag of clothes off the blue chair, and empties the contents onto the bed. Thankful that she had acted on impulse to bring her old clothes, too, she tugs on her pink panties, bra, her own jeans, her Arsenal FC top, and her sneakers. That’s the extent of her own stuff. She’s not brought her coat, but she grabs one of the sweaters that Mister Maxim—Lord Maxim—bought her, and the blanket that Danny had grabbed from the Hideout.
Dante and Ylli will be arrested, and surely once the police establish the extent of their crimes, they’ll be incarcerated and those brutes will no longer be a threat to her.
She can leave.
She’s not going to stay here.
She doesn’t want to be with a man who has deceived her. A man who will cast her aside when he tires of her. She would rather leave than be sent away.
She has to get out. Now.
Swiftly she downs the two tablets Danny has left for her. Then, with one last glance around the elegant bedroom, she opens the door a crack. There’s no one on the landing. She slips out of the room, closing the door behind her. Somehow she needs to find her way back to the Hideout to retrieve her money and her belongings. She cannot leave the house the way she came in—Danny might be in the kitchen. She turns right and heads down the long corridor.
* * *
The Jag skids to a halt by the old stables. I fling open the door and abandon the car, flying into the house. I’m desperate to see Alessia.
Danny, Jessie, and the dogs are in the kitchen. “Not now, boys,” I instruct the dogs as they leap up to greet me and be petted.
“Welcome back, my lord. The police gone?” Danny asks.
“Yes. Where is she?”
“In the blue room.”
“Thanks.” In haste I make for the door.
“Oh, my lord…” Danny calls after me and there’s a waver in her voice that brings me to a halt.
“What? How is she?”
“Shaken, sir. She threw up on the way over here.”
“Is she okay now?”
“She’s had a bath. And she’s changing into fresh clothes. And…” Danny glances with uncertainty at Jessie, who goes back to peeling spuds.
“What is it?” I demand.
Danny pales. “I mentioned that you’re the Earl of Trevethick.”