Unveiling Love by Vanessa Riley Page A

two months. But she wants you to believe she waited for you like a saint."
    A month? Not a day or two. His throat became dry like a desert, one scorched by lies. Years of training kept his countenance even. Cynthia didn't need to see the venom building in his muscles. Forgetting became impossible. He had to know the name of the blackguard who ran away with Amora, an engaged woman. "Do you know where she went? With whom?"  
    A tiny smile crept onto her face, but quickly disappeared. "No one knows. But I suspect it was one of the Charleton brothers." Her sweet tone took on haughty airs. "Both visited the Tomàs Orchards a great deal in your absence."
    The dowager's sons? The earl of Clanville? Or his younger brother, the rake Charleton? Which one had hurt Amora?
    "Did she mention that?" Bosom heaving, Cynthia leaned over the table. She was putting on quite a show, if someone were interested.  
    He lifted his gaze to the window and hid his balling fists beneath his silk. He was a respected barrister not a young buck ready to bloody every nose.
    Cynthia put a hand on his shoulder. "But I need help. It's dire."
    "What?"
    She launched into his arms. So quick was the action, her straw bonnet fell away. Her chignon unraveled.  
    His fingers tangled in the stiffness of the locks. "What is it, woman?"
    Cynthia clung to the lapels of his waistcoat. Fear laced her musical voice. "It's Gerald."
    "What about your brother?"
    She started to cry. "He's alive and in trouble."
    Nothing would be better than for the man who saved his life to be alive, but it wasn't possible. Barrington pushed free. "What type of joke is this?"  
    "It's not a joke. He is alive."
    His voice strangled. Anger wrapped and crushed his windpipe like a hangman's noose. "Gerald Miller is deceased. I was there when he was shot. He took a bullet meant for me."
    "Did you see his last breath?" Sobs mixed with her words. "Did you watch them bury him?"  
    "No, the surgeon was pulling lead out of my hide." His heart ached for his lost friend. What he wouldn't give for this to be true? But it wasn't. "Cynthia, I will take care of this."
    "Oh, Barrington." She kissed his cheek and tried to weave her arms about his waist.
    He moved her hands and tilted her chin up. "I will find this pretender and turn the fiend over to the runners. He'll never bother you with these lies again."
    "No. You mustn't. Gerald is alive, but he'll hang for what they accuse him of." She pulled away and dashed out the room.
    Some blackguard had convinced her he was Gerald. Another evil man attempted to hurt a woman, one under his protection. He couldn't save Amora from her fiend. Someone she ran away with for two months. But he'd stop this one. Barrington would make sure the blackguard paid dearly, either through the courts or fisticuffs.

    The sound of a creaking board forced a tremor up her spine. Amora wasn't alone in the pitch blackness. She stood and rammed into a wall. Clutching her knees, she sank deeper into the dark corner. No breathing, just hoping the monster hadn't heard her.
    "Hello."  
    The muffled voice tried to coax her out of hiding. She willed her heart to beat slower. If she stayed hidden, he wouldn't touch her, not hurt her as he did Sar...
    Her temples throbbed. Her lost friend's name sat on her tongue, but she couldn't remember any more of it.
    She rubbed the vacant spot on her pinkie finger where Papa's ring once sat and tried to conjure up a plan. Something brave, worthy of the Tomàs blood flowing within her veins.  
    Thump. Thump. Boot heels stopped seven, no six paces away.
    Pulse racing, she fingered the smooth wall hoping to pry loose a plank.
    "Amora?"
    Evil knew her name.  
    The hushed tone sent shivers flooding her skin. She pivoted, reached up and clasped the edge of a heavy flat object. Cold, stone.
    "Stay back!" Her voice cracked. The intended warning sounded like a cat's purr.
    The large shadow came closer.
    She started hurling things--sticks, discs. Anything, she