Page 49 of Tempting the Scoundrel
Alexandra’s grip on the pen tightened. Ink stained her fingers. “Because I do not have the political influence to publicly accuse him, even with proof. And I am responsible for the deaths of three people—”
“No.” His voice was firm. “You didn’t order their deaths, nor did you wield the blade that killed them.”
Alexandra sighed. “I might as well have.”
Nick’s hand closed over hers on the pen, warm and solid. His breath brushed across her nape. “Write your letter if you feel you ought,” he said softly. “But Seymour means to silence you. Will you let him?”
“Would you judge me if I did?”
How strange—howstupid—to value his opinion, even now. After all his critiques written in newspapers, saying in so many words that she was as deep as a puddle on the pavement, and here she was asking him to yield a verdict on her character. She had forgotten what his nearness could do, the power it could wield.
And that meant he still had the ability to hurt her.
She waited for his words, wishing she could take back the question. Wishing she was already on that traveling ship, post-divorce, miles away from England. Destination unknown. Far enough to forget him.
“What would you have me judge you for?” he asked her. “Let me know what fault I’m meant to find in this letter.”
“Cowardice, perhaps.”
He made some small noise—a gusty laugh. “Alex.” He said her name like it was a secret. “There’s no cowardice in understanding that bravery always comes with a price.”
She shut her eyes against the wild impulse to turn in his arms and kiss him, unclothe him. Let him pleasure her until she forgot everything—every worry, every memory. The words of intimacy, after all, were easy. They were single syllables,yesandno, or if their lovemaking were as good as last time:yesandyesandyes. If he kissed her now, she’d let him. She’d whisper her litany of assent.
But this would fix nothing.
“Then what would you have me do?” she asked him.
“Burn his life to the ground,” Nick whispered, his lips ghosting across her skin. “And let this—” he tapped her pen—“be your match. I’ll be here for you whenever you need.”
He withdrew his hand and left her holding the pen. The connecting door closed with a muffled click.
Alexandra tossed the letter in the wastebasket.
* * *
Alexandra woke to girlish voices.The bed jostled. Then a small voice whispered in her ear, “Mornin’, lady.”
Alexandra eased her eyes open to find a child staring back at her. What time was it? Early, she supposed, since neither of these children were in school. Which meant she’d slept scant hours.
No wonder she felt like the devil.
“Lottie?” she asked with a sigh. “Or are you Fiona?”
The little girl stared back seriously. “Lottie. Fi’s just behind you.”
At her name, the other girl bounced on the bed and rested her chin on Alexandra’s shoulder. “Why’s your room covered in paper, lady?”
Alexandra’s cursory scan of the environment around her bed yielded a similar observation. The maids respected her request not to touch her work, and now notes and discarded pages had accumulated across the floor. “My work involves paper,” she said, muffled against the pillow. “Excessive amounts of it.” The clock across the room read some ungodly hour. Were childrenalwaysthere this early? “Don’t you both have school?”
“In a bit,” Fiona chirped. “Tried to get Mr. Thorne up, but he told us to go bovver Mr. O’Sullivan, but Mr. O’Sullivan is busy and I’mhungry, lady.”
Nick got to sleep in? Sod him.
Alexandra sighed. “Does your proprietress not feed you well?”
“Nah, she’s a kind ‘un,” Lottie said, cuddling into the pillow. “Fi wants one of them pastries. Never had food like that afore we came to Mrs. Ainsley’s. Covered in crawlies, ours was. Ain’t it, Fi? Them swells sometimes dropped a treat or two on the main road, if they were in a rush. Ma used to brush the bugs off.”
Alexandra tried not to let anything show in her expression. She was well aware of how many children in the East End lacked basic needs. These girls would have been considered lucky, in some quarters, that they’d had food at all. So many starved.
