My Lord Immortality by Alexandra Ivy Read Free Book Online Page A

her smile from fading to a grimace.
    â€œI . . . very well.”
    â€œDo not bother to see me out. I can find my way.”
    With a bow, the large man had moved into the hall and was walking briskly toward the door. Amelia watched his retreat in troubled silence.
    What was she to do?
    Take William and flee?
    But to where?
    She could not return to her parents. As much as she loved them, she knew that the presence of William was too painful for them to bear. Within weeks they would once again be threatening to have him sent to Bedlam. And while she had her allowance, she had spent most of her savings upon this house. She could not afford to remain in hiding forever.
    Besides which, a more sensible part of her warned that taking William and leaving would only make the runner more convinced of his guilt. If they did discover them they might very well have him hauled off and convicted before she could prove his innocence.
    Restless and in need of a means of clearing her thoughts, Amelia found herself absently moving down the hall. She would go for a short walk, she told herself. Perhaps the fresh air and exercise would allow her to rid herself of the brooding sense of danger that continued to haunt her.
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    Amelia shivered as she tiptoed her way up the long staircase and slipped into the empty front salon. It was not only the heavy silence that made her cringe. Nor the squeak of worn floorboards that seemed to echo eerily through the heavy air. It was more the prickling sense of self-reproach that grew more pronounced with every step.
    She should not be here, a stern voice chastised in the back of her mind. She had left her house to take a simple walk. To clear her mind and consider what was to be done. But even as she had left her home she had discovered her feet determinedly heading in a straight line to this town house. Almost as if she were being inwardly compelled to seek out Mr. St. Ives.
    That compulsion had remained even when she had discovered no response to her numerous pulls upon the bell. Sensibly, she knew that she should return home. She should not even have come. But, then, she had not followed the sensible course.
    Instead, before she was even aware of what she was doing, she had pushed the door open and boldly stepped into the foyer. The empty silence that greeted her only prodded her onward. The gentleman had proved to be decidedly reluctant to answer her questions, she remembered, attempting to justify her unreasonable behavior. And she was quite certain that he knew more of this shadow, and the ghastly murder, than he was willing to confess. Why should she not use this obvious opportunity to her advantage?
    Glancing about the large salon, she studied the furniture, still shrouded in covers, and the windows that did not appear to have been washed in the past several years. Amelia frowned. There was a barren, neglected air about the room. Definitely a bachelor’s home, she acknowledged. Any woman would have had the house scrubbed from top to bottom before ever setting foot inside.
    Indeed, it was almost as if no one lived here at all.
    Gnawing upon her lower lip, she moved through the shadows, seeking some sign of occupancy. It was the right house, was it not? She could not be mistaken. This had to be the house the stranger had led her into.
    Absently turning, with the vague thought of continuing her search to another room, Amelia came to a sharp halt. She had heard not a sound, but leaning negligently in the doorway was a large male form. A magnificent male form attired in a smoke gray coat and black breeches.
    Oh . . . blast, she cursed silently. She was in the soup now.
    A decidedly embarrassing soup.
    The brilliant silver gaze was hooded as it silently flicked over her.
    â€œSo, it was not a mouse that I heard scurrying about my house, after all. Instead it is a rather unexpected guest,” he murmured in his dark, honey-accented tones.
    Her hand pressed her pounding heart. “Oh, Mr.