Page 120 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
“I see,” her old nursemaid said.
And by her tones, this time her loyal friend and nursemaid did see.
“Well—”
“Just stop, Trudy,” Cressida said, all the life drained from her. The day had been entirely too much, even for someone such as she.
“He’ll give you a job.”
That startled Trudy into dropping the topic. Her gray eyebrows went shooting to her high, receding hairline.
“Come again, girl?”
“He’ll give you work. One that will not break your back. One that will see you well-fed and safe and secure and—”
“And what about you, Cressida?” Trudy interjected sharply.
That, Cressida still hadn’t figured out.
“Come,” Trudy said.
She guided a hand around Cressida’s waist and tenderly guided her towards the bed.
“Here’s what I’ll tell you, Cressida, and you take with it what you will. You’ve gone through life all on your own, never confiding in anyone, never taking help, always giving of yourself. And finally, you’ve met a good man, and you’re just so afraid to trust he can give of himself to you, and be there for you, that you’ve gone and tried to run him away.”
Cressida stared emptily off at the opposite wall. The truth of her old nursemaid’s words landed square and didn’t bring with them any manner of shock.
“You need to rest, gel. Just trust me when I say whatever you think or don’t think about the old girl, the fellow cares for you. If he didn’t, he certainly wouldn’t go about offering work for an old biddy like me.”
Cressida managed a wan smile. She allowed Trudy to believe the matter settled, and also that she was fit for sleep, just so she could have time to be alone with herself and think about how it could have been with Benedict, instead of how it was.
Chapter 31
Somehow, Wakefield found the will and restraint to not run off more than half-mad and hunt down Cressida’s brother. Instead, he’d set out and gone to find Lord Markham. Not charging off half-cocked, since he credited himself and had also earned a public reputation for being a master of restraint. Yet not charging off after Cressida’s brother had proven his greatest feat of strength.
But the baroness and her new husband, Cressida’s brother, had wrought enough hell over society. They’d hurt people time and time again and would continue to do so. Markham would deal with them and their just means, so that Wakefield could put his entire self on the one who mattered most to him.
The sight of her visage, bruised and swollen and—
Fisting his hands so tight, his knuckles blanched, Wakefield willed the memory of her injuries away. He needed his head about him.
Seated upon the carriage bench of Lord Markham’s conveyance for the past five minutes since they’d arrived at the baron’s residence, Wakefield remained staring at the file he’d read along the way here. He stared dumbly at the words he’d read enough times in their short journey as to have memorized them.
The address. He was fixed on the address of where the baron called home because it also meant it was where Cressida had called home. Not had—did.
His throat worked painfully. This hellhole was what Cressida called home. The falling-down structure was as bereft inside as it was out. These ruthless streets not even a rat should live in was where she lay her head, where she took her meals, and where, he’d guarantee, she never took company. She’d withheld thetruth of this place from him. She’d indicated Trudy had been her nursemaid and now lived in this structure where she worked for a cruel master.
The part she’d left out was that cruel master was Cressida’s brother, and that she and Trudy lived together. She’d confided in him about Trudy being abused by her employer, but she’d neglected to point out that she herself was a recipient of that same violence.
Taking in a shuddery breath, he scrubbed both of his hands over his face. Yes, if she had not proffered that information to him, her pride being too great to have allowed it, she’d have never ever allowed any lady of Polite Society to visit her in this place. How bloody alone she’d been, how much she’d endured, how much she’d let herself to take on in caring for her old nursemaid.
How bloody remarkable she was.
“I’ll confess,” Markham said through Wakefield’s tumultuous thoughts, “were I any other man, had I not seen the things I’ve seen, I’d be shaken to see what the lady has endured.”
Wakefield managed nothing more than a taut nod. The fear she must live with was no more.
Regardless of whether she’d known or not known about her brother’s duplicity, if there had been duplicity, no longer mattered. It had only been a handful of days, but he knew her. She was a proud woman of integrity and strength.
