frowned again. ‘I had hoped that there would at least be useful lessons, like bookkeeping. But instead, they attempted to teach me needlework, which I have no skill for, and French, which I already knew. It was an enormous waste of my time.’
Will ignored the girl’s almost masculine views of education and turned the conversation back to the subject that interested him. ‘If you were not home, you cannot possibly know what was going on between the two of them.’
At this she sighed. ‘I know because, despite how everyone has been treating me, I am not some naïve child.’
‘You are very young,’ he argued.
Now she was looking at him as though he was the innocent in the room. ‘You are fortunate, Lord Felkirk, that you were not born female. It is even worse to be born a pretty one, if you have no family to keep you safe. Our father died before I was born. And Mother was...’ She paused again. ‘She was not right. I remember a pale woman who did not speak and who died when I was almost ten, because she could find no reason to live. But through it all, I remember Justine, putting her needs aside and caring for me as a mother should care for a daughter. She warned me that men who talk loudest of chivalry will throw it aside in a heartbeat, if they see an opportunity to satisfy their desires without repercussion.’
‘You have a very dark view of mankind, Miss de Bryun,’ he answered.
‘That is the fault of mankind, Lord Felkirk, for proving my sister right. I have known of Mr Montague’s unwholesome interest in my sister for quite some time. But I had no idea that he would be so villainous as to act on it. If she wanted me to stay at school, she was likely ashamed...’ For a moment, the girl’s rather brusque manner faltered and she seemed on the edge of tears. Then she swallowed and went on. ‘I had no idea that her warnings spoke from experience. If she refused to let me return home, it was because she feared for my safety there. And if she remained with Montague...’
The girl did cry now, pulling an already-damp handkerchief from her sleeve and wiping at her eyes. ‘She would never have given herself to him willingly. And she would not have stayed with him had she not feared something even worse would happen should she leave. She should have let me come home. I’d have helped her.’
Will sat beside her and gave her a gentle pat on the arm, pressing his own dry handkerchief into her hand. Even in tears, she was pretty. In a few years, she would be as beautiful as her sister. But until she was of age, she had no choice but to accede to the wishes of her guardian, just as Justine had done. ‘You needn’t think that. After all, what could you have done?’
‘I’d have killed him,’ she said, vehemently. ‘I’d have struck him down with the same poker he used on you, before I let him touch me. And I would not have let him hurt Justine, ever again. But she would not tell me the truth. She is not like me. She thinks of no one but herself, she never complains and she will not ask for help, no matter how much she needs it. She thinks she must be the strong one.’
He remembered her, in this very room, stroking his arm in the dark, kissing the scar as though the brand he bore was a mark of honour. It had been after the strange dream where she had demanded to be left alone. She had all but admitted the truth to him, talking of her difficult life.
At the time, he had been full of sympathy for her. He had vowed that he would keep her safe. But today, when she needed him, he had walked away as though she did not matter to him. Even after she had announced that she was willing to go to the gallows if it might spare him the risk of a duel, he had refused to trust her.
He took Margot by the hand and pulled her up from the mattress, walking her towards the door. ‘Do not fear, little one. That time is over. From now on, I will be her strength.’
‘Fine words,’ she said, almost spitting them back at him. ‘I have heard similarly vague promises from Mr Montague himself. But know, Lord Felkirk, that I will not allow you to treat my sister as he has done. She is not some pretty bauble to be used and discarded when you are bored with her.’
‘That was never my intention,’ he said softly.
‘Intentions mean nothing,’ she said, with a dismissive wave, ‘if they are undone by one’s actions. You claimed to love her. And yet, at the first sign of real trouble, you mean to cast her out.’ She turned to glare at him. ‘You will forgive me if I think my sister has suffered enough at the hands of men. In short, my lord, if you do not want her, do not think you can send her back to Montague with a clear conscience. It would be better to have her arrested and let her take her chances with the courts than to return her to the suffering she has endured from that monster.’ And with that, she was gone, slamming the door so hard that even the stone walls seemed to shake.
‘Justine.’
She woke with a start to find Will standing over her bed, a dim outline in the darkness. For a moment, she hoped that he had changed his mind and would gather her in his arms to assure her that it had all been a horrible dream. When he did not speak, the hope changed to fear. As she did with Montague, she lay perfectly still, feigning sleep and hoping that he would pass her by, just once.
‘There is no point in pretending any more. I know you are awake,’ he said, taking a taper from the bedside and lighting it with the last coals of the fire. ‘Dress and come with me. There is something I must show you, before tomorrow.’ Then he removed himself from her room, as though allowing the privacy to prepare herself.
Come back, she wanted to whisper. Come back to me. There was no need to be so distant. What had they not shared with each other, these last weeks? Could they not have one last hour together? Even if he did nothing but sit silently in a chair while she dressed, it would be better than being alone.
But their time to be together had passed and the distance between them was more than just the space between their rooms. She had cried herself to sleep worrying about what was likely to happen when morning came. But not before writing a full account of what had happened in Bath, so she might give it to the duke. If Will brought a second, there would be no other man he might choose. Perhaps, if she delivered a full confession before the fight began, Bellston might call a halt to it and save Will’s life.
She pulled on a gown and found stockings and shoes, wishing she had asked what it was that was expected. When she had seen him just now, he’d been fully dressed. But since it was the same coat he had worn in the afternoon, she suspected he had not gone to bed.
He should be resting. If he meant to carry out his foolish plan, dawn would come soon enough and he must be ready for it. Perhaps the duel was worrying him more than he let on. Perhaps he meant to run away with her. That was too much to hope for. There was something funereal in his demeanour that was far more frightening than his anger had been.
When she was finished dressing, she found him waiting in the hall for her, a candle in his hand to light their way. He preceded her down the steps and through the servant-less corridors to the main floor. The house was still asleep. The hall clock chimed three as they passed it, on their way to the back of the house.
From there, they went to the servants’ stairs, down again, through the kitchens and beyond, down another flight of steps to a part of the house she had never seen. She could feel the cool air rising from the brick walls and see the racks upon racks of bottles. The wine cellar? ‘Where are we going?’ she finally raised the nerve to ask.
‘To get you what you wanted, from the first moment
