Page 53 of The Damsel
“I know their names,” he continued when she remained silent. “I cannot forget who they are, or the things Bertram did to them. I think of them often, in fact, and have suffered no end of guilt over my own part in all of this. Do you think I am not ashamed at having been friends with that blackguard without ever knowing who he truly was? I have not forgiven myself for it, and I may never be able to. I care, Cass. I care about them, I care aboutyou.”
It was happening again. Something inside her was crumbling, falling to pieces against his words. She wrapped her arms around herself and held tight, refusing to allow his words to affect her or change her course. She had begun this, and she must finish it. Those other women had stood with her, and together they had destroyed their mutual tormentor. But what of the others? What of the maids who served as easy pickings for men with salacious intent? What of Lady Downing, who had died because of her? There was nothing left for her now—only the solace of her own actions, the peace that came from doing what she could to put the Bertrams of the world in their place.
Turning away from him, she found her gown draped over the back of a chair, her undergarments piled upon the seat. She began dressing, stepping into her petticoats and tying them at her waist, before reaching for her stays.
“I am done with you,” she declared, avoiding his gaze. “Do not return to Easton Park.”
“So, that is it?” he demanded, crossing the room toward her. “I tell you that I care about you, and that is enough for you to toss me aside?”
No, she thought.It isn’t that you care about me, but that I cannot return the sentiment.
Aloud, she said, “Softer emotions were never a part of our arrangement. It is clear to me that this has gone on long enough.”
“What is clear to me is that you are afraid.”
She froze in the middle of tying her garter, glancing up to find him watching her, arms folded across his chest.
“Afraid of what? You?”
“Yes, of me … of this thing happening between us.”
She finished off the garter and broke his gaze, plucking her slippers off the floor. She’d pulled on her gown but it remained open in the back with no one to assist her in closing it.
“There is nothing—”
“Denying it does not make it untrue,” he interjected. “Damn it, Cass, I am trying to—”
“To what?” she spat, straightening once she had her slippers on. “Love me?”
He raked both hands through his hair and let out a growl of frustration. “Yes!”
“Don’t. I don’t want your love … not when you don’t even know what love is. For God’s sake, you cannot even see that what you felt for Daphne wasn’t love. How am I supposed to believe that you could possibly love me? Hell, you do not even know me.”
“I want to. I’ve been trying to. But, how can I when you will not let me?”
“Because if you truly knew me, you could never love me. It is over, Robert. Perhaps someday you will find a woman who appeals to your need to rescue and coddle her. I can assure you, I am not what you want.”
She gave him her back, sweeping her bedraggled hair over one shoulder to expose the opening of her gown. A long silence dragged out between them, and for a moment she wondered if he meant to let her traipse about with her gown falling off. But, eventually he approached, closing her gown with swift, deft movements.
“Wait here,” he said once he was done.
She turned to find him disappearing into the dressing room. He returned holding a pair of shoes and wearing a banyan, his shirt still hanging open. The mark upon his chest peeked out at her, a sign of her possession, her passion.
There would be no more of that now, but it was for the best. She could not tell him that it wasn’t his fault—he'd simply put all his hopes in the wrong person. She was not a woman who could love or be loved. There was room for only pain, anger, and vengeance inside of her, and in the end she would have destroyed him.
No, not him … he seemed more resilient then she’d first assumed.Shewas the one who’d be destroyed if she let him in. There were parts of her she’d never let anyone see or touch, and Robert had consistently pushed against her boundaries. She could not allow him to go any further.
“At least let me see you out of the house,” he said.
Without waiting for her to answer he swept toward the door, the hem of his open banyan flaring out behind him. She followed in silence, waiting for him to determine that the corridor remained empty before he led her out. They encountered no one as they moved through the servant’s passage, the majority of the staff about their duties for the day.
Before long they reached the same door they’d entered last night, stepping out into the sunny morning. The air still held a bit of a chill, but it felt good as she breathed it in, letting the cold flood her throat and chest. Robert turned to face her with the sun at his back, its rays turning his hair to white gold. His expression was set in stone— mouth tight, jaw clenched, eyes mournful. It seemed as if a hundred years had passed between last night and now. It stretched like a crevice between them, growing by the second.
“I don’t suppose you want me to escort you the rest of the way,” he said, inclining his head toward the path leading into the woods, the one she would follow home.
“No,” she replied. “I will be fine on my own.”
He scoffed. “I am certain you will. Take care of yourself, Cass.”
