“Here now,” Aidan said, casting a glance toward the viscount, “who gave you leave to squire my betrothed about the East End?”
Garrick was holding himself stiffly at her side, his posture exuding anger. “Miss Sutton is not your betrothed, and you know it. You ought to be wailing with endless gratitude for my coming to your rescue instead of chastising me.”
“Oh, Aidan,” she said with a sigh, shaking her head. “What manner of scrape did you land yourself in this time?”
He cast a wry glance to his bound wrists. “That should rather be apparent, should it not? Untie me, let me find a chamber pot, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“You dare to laugh?” Garrick stepped forward, striding for the bed. “How could you, after what you have put us all through? I ought to box your damned ears. Miss Sutton might have been hurt or worse in that alley.”
Aidan had the grace to look shamefaced. “I was drunk as David’s sow, celebrating my impending nuptials, when Mrs. Knightly offered her companionship for the evening.”
Of course Aidan would have been celebrating that ridiculous false betrothal he had dreamed up. And only he would have been celebrating with another woman. Pen would have said it served him right, but she did hate to think of what he must have endured the past few days.
“Fine husband you would make,” Garrick muttered. “Carousing with lightskirts to celebrate your betrothal.”
“I was celebrating Father’s outrage more than anything else,” Aidan confided, wincing as he tugged at his wrists. “Make haste, will you? I’ve been waiting for Mrs. Knightly to return for hours, and I’m not going to last much longer.”
He was referring to his need to relieve himself. Mortification made her cheeks go hot.
“You are a treasure, brother,” Garrick said, his voice frigid. “A true credit to the Weir family name.”
He extracted a blade from his coat and began slicing at Aidan’s bonds.
“I am sorry, Pen,” Aidan said, looking back to her. “I never meant for this to happen. Will you forgive me? I swear to you that I will be a better husband.”
“We are not going to be married,” she said, amazed he apparently seemed to be taking the notion seriously, even after all that had come to pass. “I told you before you disappeared that I had no intention of wedding you, and despite your determination to utterly ignore my wishes, my opinion on the matter has not changed.”
“I will earn your trust,” he said. “I’ve made some realizations these last few days, and I treated you poorly. Allow me to make amends. Grant me another chance.”
Surely he could not be serious.
Pen blinked, certain her eyes were deceiving her. But Aidan was still seated, bare-chested in the bed, eyes—so bright blue and like his brother’s—entreating.
“You should go, Miss Sutton,” Garrick said coldly before she could think of a sufficient response to offer.
Her gaze flew to him, finding his countenance all harsh angles and planes, curiously devoid of emotion. Once more the icy, arrogant lord. And she had been dismissed.
She nodded, for it was just as well that she take her leave. If Aidan was indeed bare-arsed naked beneath that coverlet, she had no wish to see the other half of him. He had always been like another brother to her, one to fill the hole in her heart left by Logan’s abrupt disappearance.
“Of course,” she said, doing her utmost to tamp down the ridiculous hurt rising within her at Garrick’s abrupt shift in demeanor. “I will leave the two of you to privacy. Hart and Wolf are likely still sorting out matters with the charleys and may need my assistance.”
She turned on her heel and hastened to the door.
“Pen, wait,” Aidan called after her.
But the one voice she truly wanted to hear asking her to come back remained silent. And why should she be surprised? Now that he finally had what he wanted—his brother restored to the family and no scandalous betrothal looming on the horizon—he had no further need of Pen. Likely, she would never see him again.
It was just as well, she told herself as the door clicked closed behind her. They belonged to different worlds, she and Lord Lordly. And like every other man in her life who was not one of her brothers, he had used her when it was convenient. Used her to gain what he wanted.
Now, he was tossing her aside. Just as Daniel had.
But although she knew it was for the best, she could not deny the ache in her heart as she descended the narrow stair to the public rooms below. Aidan was safe, the man and woman behind his kidnapping were in the custody of the charleys, and she could carry on with her life without the interference of one arrogant heir to a duke.
She was happy. Truly.
Her brothers were waiting for her when she reached the crowded, bustling tap-room.
“Pen,” Hart said, frowning as she rejoined him and Wolf. “Where the bleeding hell have you been? We were about to come looking for you.”
“I was making certain Lord Lindsey was reunited with Lord Aidan,” she said, blinking away the sting of foolish, impending tears. “The Knightlys did not appear to do him any harm.”
“Thank Christ,” Wolf said, his tone dark. “We’ve wasted enough bleeding time ‘ere swilling watered-down ale and chasing after nobs.”
“Yes,” she agreed through a throat gone thick with unwanted emotion, “we most certainly have. We should get back to The Sinner’s Palace where we are needed most.”
And to the devil with everyone else.
Especially the brothers Weir.