If His Kiss Is Wicked. Jo GoodmanЧитать онлайн книгу.
yes, but you can see for yourself that I have recently garnered considerable life experience.”
“Yes,” he said, dipping his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, you have.” Restell sat forward in his chair. “This was not done by someone you know?”
“No.”
“Are you quite certain? Your father? Brother? Someone you do not want to reveal just yet. A lover, mayhap?”
“Why do you persist in thinking it is someone I know? I would tell you if that were the case, else why would I come?”
“Precisely. But many women do not tell it all, at least not at the outset. Fear, I suspect is the reason for it. Some are afraid of their tormentor; others are afraid to hope that anything can be done. Even when I explain that it is better that I know the whole of it at the first interview, the truth seems to reveal itself over time.”
“A consequence of learning to trust you, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“You may well be right. Perhaps I expect too much.” He shrugged and leaned back again, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Why hasn’t anyone approached me on your behalf? You said you overheard Bettany discussing my talents with someone. Why hasn’t that person followed where the good doctor pointed?”
“I can’t be sure. I didn’t ask.”
“You must have wondered. What are your thoughts?”
She pressed her lips together, frowning slightly, then released her reticule long enough to press the back of her fingers against her mouth. She examined her glove for evidence of blood. Before she could find her handkerchief, Restell was standing before her, offering his own.
“Thank you.” She dabbed her lower lip with the linen. “It will never heal if I persist on worrying it. I cannot seem to break myself of the habit.” She withdrew the handkerchief, saw that she had stemmed the bleeding, and began folding the linen into a neat square.
“You may keep it,” Restell said, returning to his chair. “I will not be put off my questioning and will give you cause to have need of it again. Now, tell me why you think no one save you has applied to me.” He watched her take a steadying breath while he held his own and waited to see what she would do.
“I think it is because it’s believed the danger is past, or rather that the danger existed only because I presented opportunity for it.”
“You will have to explain the last.”
“I mean that if I had not been just where I was no ill would have befallen me. I have thought a great deal about that.”
“I see. So you are at fault for what happened.”
“At fault?” Her eyebrows lifted in tandem. “No, I do not accept that. I am responsible for being where I was and that is all.”
“So the thinking of your family is that this assault was random, one of opportunity rather than deliberate design.”
“I have supposed that is their thinking. As I mentioned, I didn’t ask.”
“I do not recall reading an account of any assault such as you experienced in the Gazette. Did it happen here in London?”
“It began here. It ended in Walthamstow. Are you familiar?”
“I know where it is. Waltham Abbey is not far from there, I believe.”
“Yes.”
“Are you telling me you were abducted in London and taken to Walthamstow?”
“Walthamstow is where I was able to get away. I cannot say how long they meant to remain there.”
“They?”
“There were two men, though sometimes it seems to me there was a third.”
Restell kept his gaze steady, taking in this information as if it did not twist his gut. If she was willing to tell him, the very least he could do was honor her courage. “Your bruises look more than a week old. How long ago did this happen?”
“A bit less than three weeks. I am told I made my escape only days after I was assaulted behind Madame Chabrier’s establishment. I cannot account for the time myself as it seemed to take no longer than the blink of an eye, yet was simultaneously only a few moments shy of forever. Because of the kindness of the village’s innkeeper and his wife, I was able to send word to my family and was reunited soon after.”
It was clearer to Restell why he’d heard no account of the abduction or her maltreatment. A family of some means and reputation would go to great lengths to keep such a matter quiet. Whether or not she bore any responsibility for events, whether or not she was sorely abused, it would be society’s judgment that she was ruined. Restell thought that perhaps it was a judgment shared by her family.
“You were alone at the time of the abduction?” he asked.
She nodded. “I had not even my maid with me. It seems foolish now, but I cannot regret it as I think she might have been killed if she’d accompanied me.”
Restell considered her attire again. “You are not in mourning.”
She was silent for a moment, her expression grave. “Only as it applies to me,” she said with quiet dignity. “I mourn the loss of self, of that part of me that enjoyed freedom of movement and freedom from fear. I might have been here days earlier if I could have left my home. I had opportunity but could not will myself to step outside. Twice I dressed and approached the door. Twice I retreated to my room. Today I took two spoonfuls of laudanum and depended upon their soporific consequences to help me find a balm for my terror. Do not suppose that I am muddleheaded because of my actions. The long wait in your drawing room did much to remove that effect.”
“And are you fearful now?”
“Sick with it.”
“Yet you sit so composed.”
“I cannot move.” She smiled slightly, sipping air as though through a straw. “I can barely breathe.”
Her courage left him humbled. Some day he would tell her so, but not just now, not when a kind word might very well sabotage her resolve. “What do you suppose I can do for you?”
She did not answer this directly. That didn’t entirely surprise him as she seemed more comfortable coming at a thing sideways.
“I am Emmalyn Hathaway,” she said after a long moment. “Miss Emmalyn Hathaway.”
As he’d suspected, her name meant nothing to him. “It is a very real honor to meet you, Miss Hathaway.” She gave no indication that she reciprocated the sentiment or even that she believed him.
“My parents were Elliot and Teresa Hathaway, late of Peterborough.”
Restell realized he hadn’t been wrong about her accent. Peterborough was in Northhamptonshire.
“And later still,” she continued, “of the fair ship Emily Pepper that was lost with all hands and passengers somewhere south of Ceylon.”
“I know of the Emily Pepper,” he said. In addition to apparently carrying Miss Hathaway’s parents, the ship had been carrying a king’s ransom worth of silks and teas. He had contemplated investing in the ship, but as he researched its prospects and, more importantly, its master, he had advised himself and others against it. The demise of the Emily Pepper and the loss of her crew, passengers, and cargo had spelled something of a reversal in his own fortunes.
People began to take him seriously.
Restell did not share this with Miss Hathaway. It would be difficult for anyone to reconcile the death of one’s parents with the pivotal juncture it had been in his life, even more so because he was so ambivalent about the change it had wrought.
He realized the anniversary of the Emily Pepper’s sinking was almost upon them. “Three years