Page 24 of The Lady Confesses
The maid just sat there for a moment, blinking owlishly at the window.
“Foster! Let him in,” Hettie insisted more sharply.
Instantly, Foster rose and crossed to the window, undoing the latch and letting the casement swing inward. “Good heavens, sir! There’s a door downstairs that you could have used!”
“There is,” Joss agreed, levering himself into the room. “But then others would know I am here, and that’s not good for anyone. Is it, Hettie?”
“No. It isn’t. Foster, I think it goes without saying that this should remain a secret.”
“Mum’s the word, m’lady,” the maid replied quickly. “Should I stay?”
“No,” Hettie said. “You may go. The tray can be seen to in the morning. I imagine that Mr. Ettinger could use some sustenance.”
When the maid had gone, Hettie turned back to him. “What were you thinking to come here this way? Uninvited and slipping in through a bedroom window like a thief in the night!”
“I was thinking to protect you... your reputation and your life. If Simon Dagliesh is responsible for Ernsdale’s murder, he’s likely experiencing some paranoia. My former association with Bow Street is well known. If I were to be seen coming and going, it might prompt him to take action against you.”
Hettie’s lips parted. “Oh. Well, of course, I hadn’t considered that he might be watching us.”
“Even if he’s not, you can bet money that Maurice Bates is. There’s no love lost between us. If he thinks I’m aiding you in some way, he’d be more likely to try and drag you to the gaol.”
Hettie shuddered at the thought. “I have been locked in enough small, filthy rooms for my lifetime. I’d really prefer not going to another.”
“I know you would... I came tonight because I’ve discovered something. Simon hovers on the verge of eviction from the Albany. His rent hasn’t been paid for two months now, and patience with him and his promises of a windfall is wearing thin from creditors both respectable and... not so respectable. It is likely that the windfall he has promised them could only be his inheritance from his uncle. I think, Hettie, that you are inmore danger from him than either of us had initially imagined, because he’s not just greedy. He’s desperate.”
Chapter Twenty
She was pale.That was the first thing Joss noticed about her. The second thing he noted was the tension in her shoulders. And it wasn’t simply being faced with his presence which made her tense. Hettie was struggling. The weight of the worries presently deposited on her slim shoulders was staggering. And for two months, she had been facing everything completely alone, including his rejection of her. Whatever his reasons or his honorable intentions, he had hurt her, and that thought pricked at him like shards of broken glass.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Whatever for?”
“That you were abducted. That you were used as a pawn by others. That you’ve had to face things completely alone because every man you’ve ever known—myself included—has proven a disappointment.”
There was only silence for the longest time as she stared at him, her head cocked slightly to one side as she considered not only his words, but the whole of him. It was like she could see straight through to the soul he thought had once been sacrificed entirely. It took everything in him not to squirm beneath that steady regard, like a misbehaving child called onto the carpet.
Finally, she spoke. “You owe me nothing. Not an apology, certainly. I knew the risks that night in the Mint. I knew them fully. And I cannot say that I would alter anything about it evenif it were possible to do so. I’ve asked for your aid, and you are providing it. That is more than enough,” she said, as if it were that simple.
“Well, it’s not good enough for me,” he said, shaking his head. “But you’ve had enough of men telling you what to do in your life. I’m not that sort. But that is my child, and I mean to know it and for it to know me. What’s between the two of us... well, we’ll just have to figure that out as we go along.”
“There is no us. We had one night together... one night with consequences. And just because we can’t seem to keep our hands off one another, that doesn’t signify that there is anything there beyond basic attraction. I will endeavor to curb my inappropriate behavior and you should, as well.”
“Inappropriate? Hettie... I have never met a woman—not in all my life—that burrowed under my skin as you have. We spent one night together, and it has haunted me every moment of every day since. I regret my coldness to you that morning. I regret the impersonal way I left you with Mrs. Blaylock—Mrs. Carrow, now. God above, it’s all cocked up. I told myself I was doing what was best for you, but I’m not a selfless man. Never have been. Never will. I want you. And nothing will stop me from trying to win you.”
She shook her head, and her expression had shifted into one of sadness. “I’m not a prize to be won. If you want me, I don’t need to be wooed. I need to know that I am valued and respected. I need to know that any partnership we have going forward will be just that—a true partnership and not one of us shouting orders or making unilateral decisions for the other. You called me a pawn. And it’s an accurate description. For the entirety of my life, I’ve been naught but a commodity to be traded upon, first for my father and then for Arthur and ultimately for my abductors. I won’t be that for you. Not now. Not when I have a choice.”
If she only knew that he did already value and respect her. But actions always spoke louder than words. Thus far, actions had only shown that he was a selfish ass led about by his prick.
“There is a chance then,” he mused, “that you would consider marriage to such a lowborn person as myself?”
She leveled that same assessing, squirm-inducing gaze upon him once more. When she spoke, her voice was low and soft, but held complete conviction. “If I were ever to marry again, the man would be judged only on how he treated me and how he made me feel. On his true worth and his own merit. I care nothing for birth or station. In truth, I never have. That was my father’s obsession—that was what saw Honoria and myself married to men who were little better than monsters.”
“I’m not a monster, though I have done monstrous things... I’ve done things that I’d never dare even whisper. But I’ll never hurt you.”
“You will,” she murmured softly. “You likely will not mean to, but you will. And it’s just as likely that, should we pursue the madness of trying to have a life together, I will hurt you, as well. It’s simply part of it, I think. But those hurts should never be intentional, and they most certainly must generate remorse on the part of the offender. To say we’d never hurt one another means we’d achieve a state of perfection. And I’ve no interest in being perfect. Not anymore. It is a very lonely way to live.”
“You are perfect,” he insisted. “Perfectly imperfect. I would change nothing about you, Hettie. Not a single hair nor a thought in your head.”
