by C. J. Archer
I stopped, not because I wanted to hear what he had to say, but because if I were to conquer my fear, I had to face him. Besides, I was near the house now. He wouldn't dare touch me.
"That's close enough," I said when he was still out of arm's reach. "Say what you want to say from there. But I'm warning you, if you only wish to renew your offer, I'll walk off. I cannot make myself any clearer on that matter than I already have."
He held up his hands. "I understand. And it's not that, I promise you. Believe me, I don't wish to court my brother's wrath any more than I already have. Brotherly ties don't seem to mean that much to him of late."
I wasn't sure if he expected me to sympathize or explain Samuel's state of mind so I said nothing.
"I only want to ask you why you didn't tell him the truth last night? You let him think there was something between us. I've been wracking my brain all day as to what your motive could have been, but I can't come up with one."
I frowned at him. I'd thought my motive was obvious. Samuel had certainly caught onto it very quickly. "I don't want to ruin his life."
"Ah." His lips flattened. "By agreeing to marry him, you mean?"
"I'm glad you finally understand. You and I both know that marrying me would be a disaster for him. He can't see it yet, but he will, one day."
He nodded slowly, all the while giving me a curious look as if he were seeing me for the first time. "And you're willing to give up your own ambitions so that he can live a normal life unhindered by such a wife as you?"
The barb hit me in the chest, even though he didn't shoot it intentionally. It was just the way he saw me. The way everyone saw me. "The thing is, Bert, I have no ambitions. I wasn't lying when I said I don't wish to be any man's thing, and that includes being Samuel's wife."
"I'm not certain my brother would treat his wife as a thing," he said quietly as much to himself as to me.
My heart rose into my throat and I had to swallow heavily. "Nevertheless, the reason I lied to him last night was because I wanted him to believe I was interested in taking up your offer. It was the only way I could see to encourage him to set aside any tender feelings toward me."
"Except it backfired."
I looked down at the gravel drive. "Yes."
He expelled a long breath that ended in a hacking cough. I watched in alarm as his face turned to a dangerous puce color. Finally his coughing fit eased and he straightened to his full height.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
He dismissed my question with a flip of his hand. "I want to apologize," he said. "I've treated you badly. I admit that I thought you were just like the others."
"Others?"
"Women throw themselves at him. It's quite obscene. Some have tried to get to him through me, but most have ignored me altogether, as if I didn't exist." He spluttered a bitter, brittle laugh. "I suppose when I stand beside him, I'm somewhat overshadowed."
"He has a certain presence," I admitted. "But I've learned to resist men like him and now I'm rather immune to his charms."
Liar.
He smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. The truth of it is that my brother is very eligible. It's refreshing to find that a woman doesn't want to ensnare him, especially someone…" He caught himself with a cough just in time, but I knew what he'd been about to say. Especially someone like you. A whore.
"I've left that life behind me," I said. "Far, far behind. I'm a teacher now, with no desires to become anything more, or less. I hope you can see that I only want what's best for Samuel. He's a good man. He deserves a wife who is worthy of him."
It was easy to smile and let him think I believed my own words. But the truth was, the more I pushed Samuel away, the more I wanted him close. I needed to remind myself of what he'd done—what he was capable of doing—or I was in grave danger of succumbing. Besides, I did believe everything I'd told Bert. Marrying Samuel would ruin him as thoroughly as Sylvia would be ruined if she didn't wed Malborough.
"In that case, there's something that's been bothering me," he said. "Something I said that requires me to clear the air."
I went very still. A chill crawled along my skin like a thousand spiders. "About his stint in Newgate Prison?" Perhaps it hadn't been true. Perhaps Bert had lied and Samuel didn't rape a girl after all.
He lifted his chin in a nod. "I shouldn't have told you about it, but I was angry and frustrated. God, my only brother, and I go around saying things like that to all and sundry."
I didn't think I was "all and sundry," considering Samuel had asked me to marry him. But it wasn't that which had me frowning. "Do you mean to say that he did do it?"
"Yes, unfortunately. The girl claimed he forced her. Samuel was convinced it was consensual and vehemently denied it."
"If Samuel is to be believed, why did the girl accuse him? It's a terrible thing to accuse a gentleman of that."
"He thought she was trying to trap him into marriage."
"Is that what you think?"
"Yes. Perhaps. I don't know. I do know that he didn't need to use his hypnosis to get women to like him and he rarely used it on them."
"Rarely? Meaning that he did use it on occasion?"
His gaze slid away from mine. "You'd have to ask him that. The point is that our parents believed the girl over him. Samuel was rather wild when he was at University College. The parties he went to were not at all respectable. He indulged in more vices than even you've experienced, I'd wager."
"That doesn't mean he would do something as despicable as…"
He shrugged. "Our parents were deeply troubled by his wildness at the time. They thought him morally corrupt enough to take that step."
Poor Samuel. No wonder he didn't particularly like his parents. They'd not stood by their son at a time when he needed them most.
"Father let the police arrest and question him, hoping it would frighten him and teach him a lesson."
"And did it?"
"I'd say so. He never returned to those ways again. Father paid off the authorities and the girl after a few short days. Without proof, the case would probably never have made it to trial anyway. Those sorts of cases rarely do."
So I'd learned on my visit to Newgate. There'd been no record of Samuel being there at all.
"Samuel remained at home for a while, lying low," Bert went on. "When it was decided that he could return to his studies in London, he worked hard, and earned himself a position with Dr. Werner. He was naturally brilliant anyway, and his hypnotism gave him an extra edge."
None of the story was a particular surprise to me, but hearing about Samuel's past only made me feel as if I understood him more. I too had done things I regretted, and behaved in a way that shamed me now. Samuel's parents had judged him harshly for it, as I had been judged by some. We had both tried to put our pasts behind us, to varying degrees of success.
Yet there was still a small doubt that needled its way into my thoughts and wouldn't budge. "What if you knew he could hypnotize unwittingly?"
"You mean, he isn't aware of what he's doing?"
I nodded. "If he could do that, then perhaps he hypnotized that girl by accident and merely thought she agreed to a liaison when really she was under his spell."
He appeared to consider it then shook his head. "I've never seen any evidence that he can do that. Has he told you he can?"
I merely shrugged, unprepared to give up Samuel's secret to anyone. "I was just wondering."
"The fact is, I wish I hadn't told you about that incident at all." Bert scuffed the gravel with the toe of his shoe. "I wanted to shame him in your eyes. I was being childish and I regret it now."
He clasped my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. I wanted to jerk away, but managed not to show any outward horror or fear. I congratulated myself on my progress and even managed a weak smile in return. He had admitted his mistakes and apologized. Not too many men would do that.
"I hope this signals a truce between us," he said. "I would like—"
"Get awa
y from her!" Samuel's vicious growl caused Bert's hand to whip back to his side. Samuel moved with surprising speed down the steps considering his injuries. "Don't touch her!"
I stepped into Samuel's path. "We were talking," I said, standing between the brothers. Fury burned in Samuel's eyes and I didn't trust him not to punch Bert in the nose. "He came to apologize for last night."
Samuel's chest heaved with his deep breathing. He focused his ice-blue gaze on Bert behind me.
Bert shuffled back. "It's true!" he cried. "I wanted Miss Charity to know that I regret the debacle."
Samuel still looked like he wanted to thump his brother. I laid a hand on his arm, something I seemed to want to do a lot lately. He blinked and his eyes softened. The immediate danger seemed to be over. He didn't retreat, however, and seemed to be waiting for Bert to leave.
But Bert didn't move. "Don't look now, but Mother is watching from an upstairs window. I wonder what she's thinking, seeing us three converse."
"I have no interest in what she thinks," Samuel growled.
Previously I would have disliked hearing him say that about his own mother, but knowing that she and Mr. Gladstone had thought him guilty of a heinous crime, I no longer felt sympathy for her.
Bert cleared his throat. "That's a little harsh, brother. She means well."
Samuel winced and the muscle in his arm flexed. "I know. It's just that her definition of what is best for me is very different from mine. So much so that I sometimes think it's the family's interests she has at heart, not mine."
"They're the same thing," Bert said. "Or they should be."
The brothers eyed one another for a long time, until Samuel broke the stare.
"Will you come inside, Charity?" he asked. "Sylvia has retired and I suspect Cara would like someone other than Ebony and Mother to talk to."
"Why wouldn't she want to speak to Ebony?" Bert asked before I could respond.
"Unfortunately Ebony only wants to debate government policy. There's only so much of that anyone can take."
"She's a determined and educated young lady," Bert protested. "You should be damned fortunate she came all this way to see you when she has a number of candidates to consider."
"You make it sound like she's holding an election."
"A beautiful, intelligent and well-connected girl? Yes, I rather think she is."
"I'm not in the running."
"So I hear."
"If you admire her so much, you should court her yourself."
"Ordinarily I would consider it, but I don't think I have the energy for an ambitious girl."
"I'm actually glad to hear that. She's a good sort overall, and you've behaved despicably toward Charity. I'm afraid I'd be inclined to warn her away from you."
Bert's pale skin flushed with color. He nodded grimly and finally left us. We followed him inside at a distance and watched as he headed up the stairs. Samuel suggested we join Ebony and Cara in the drawing room.
"Won't you be bored in the company of so many females?" I teased.
"With so many beautiful and intelligent women in the same room? I doubt it."
I smiled and he smiled back. It was nice to banter with him. Nice too to have his intention focused entirely on me.
It was something of a relief to have heard Bert's softened version of the Newgate story. I tended to agree that the girl was lying and trying to trap Samuel, simply because I knew Samuel well enough to know he abhorred even the thought of hurting a woman.
Yet something still niggled at me. If he truly believed himself innocent, why was he so troubled after accessing my memories? His descent into near madness had only happened after he'd temporarily erased the memories of the master from my mind and seen for himself what I'd been through. If he were innocent, why did the things that had happened to me—things he'd been accused of doing to another girl—eat at him like a cancer?
Because he doubted his innocence.
***
True to her word, Sylvia remained in her room for the rest of the afternoon. Somebody must have informed Lord Malborough, because he didn't come looking for her to get his answer. I assumed both he and his father were still in the attic and would be there for the rest of the day. I hoped so.
Samuel and I settled into the drawing room with the remainder of the guests. Conversation was awkward at best, and non-existent at worst. The only relief came from Cara. Whenever it felt like the silence was going to finally shatter, she'd pull a face at me when no one was looking. I had to press my lips together to suppress a giggle. It amazed me that I wanted to giggle at all. Usually a smile was all I could muster.
To my surprise and relief, Ebony did not mention anything political. She asked after our shopping expedition, inquired about Samuel's injuries, and described her walk around the gardens in detail. Unfortunately, all those topics were quickly exhausted and we once more fell into strained silence.
Mrs. Gladstone watched Ebony from beneath lowered lashes as she stitched her embroidery. A small crease joined her eyebrows, yet I couldn't determine her thoughts.
"Tell me, Miss Moreau," Ebony tried once more. "How do you know the Langleys? I didn't think they came to London very often."
"I know them through my niece an her husband. There have been some supernatural occurrences here that required Emily and Jacob's opinions."
Ebony blinked owlishly at her. "Oh."
"She's a medium."
"I know."
"As am I."
"So I've heard."
Cara turned a sweet smile on her. The topic of the supernatural had not come up in Ebony's presence since that night at the dinner table when she'd disparaged mediums right in front of Cara, forgetting that she was one. I wasn't sure if Cara ought to mention it again, but she seemed determined to. I was glad Sylvia wasn't present—she would have been horrified at such talk.
"Everyone in London seems to know," Cara went on innocently, "although I think most secretly believe that we're fakes."
"Your…talent is quite the curiosity." Ebony looked like she wanted to run from the room, but Cara gave her no opportunity.
"I wish I could prove to you that we're genuine, but there aren't any spirits in the house. If there were, it would have to be one you knew well if I was to prove anything."
"I see," Ebony said with a weak smile. "I've learned so much since my arrival. So, so much. Next you'll be telling me Miss Charity has a supernatural power too. Perhaps her power is that she can convince people to like her."
I almost choked on my tongue. Did she think I didn't deserve to be liked? Or was she hinting that she knew Samuel could hypnotize? If so, then why not just come out and say it? Cara looked somewhat amused at the suggestion, but Mrs. Gladstone had gone as pale as the moon.
It was Samuel who spoke, however. "Actually—"
"No!" Mrs. Gladstone cried. "Miss Charity has no special powers whatsoever. Nobody else does."
"That is true," I said before Samuel could butt in. I tended to agree with his mother that he should keep his talent quiet from people like Ebony. If he wasn't going to marry her, she didn't need to know. Samuel said nothing, however he did seem amused.
"Where is that footman?" Mrs. Gladstone asked loudly. "We rang for tea some time ago."
"I'll find him," Samuel offered. "He has probably been waylaid somewhere."
"This place needs more staff."
"That is quite the understatement," Ebony muttered.
"Let me search for him," I said as Samuel rose. "You should rest your leg."
"I don't mind," he said.
"She's right," Mrs. Gladstone told him. "Perhaps you ought to rest in your room."
"I'm quite comfortable here."
"Surely our conversation must be boring to you."
I left with the two of them gently bickering with one another. There was no real animosity in it, it was just a case of a woman trying to mother her grown son and him not liking it. But it was still a relief to get away from that stifling room.
I did hope Cara behaved and didn't tease Ebony about the paranormal again. On the other hand, it would have been amusing to see Cara somehow prove to her doubter that she was a medium.
I smiled all the way to the service area. Cook greeted me as she threw some chopped herbs into a pot of water bubbling on the stovetop. "You seem cheerful today, miss," she said with a curious half-smile.
"Do I?" I supposed I was, despite my worry about Sylvia and Bollard. "Have you seen Tommy?"
"Last I saw him he was fetching tea leaves from the pantry." Her smile faded. "He looks a bit upset today, miss. Think you can have a word with him?"
"I'll try."
"He wouldn't talk to me or Mrs. Moore, and he looks like he could do with a friend."
I bit my lip. Poor Tommy. I should have sought him out earlier. "I'll see what I can do. Thank you, Cook."
She winked at me. It was the friendliest gesture any of the servants had shown me, aside from Tommy. Ordinarily they weren't sure how to treat me. I was a guest, yet I was as base born as Tommy himself. It made for some awkward moments between us.
I found him standing in the doorway of the deep pantry, leaning against the doorframe, his head bowed. "Run out of tea?" I asked gently.
He glanced at me over his shoulder and my heart cracked a little at the sight of the turmoil in his eyes, the pinched lines of worry around his mouth. I didn't think his feelings for Sylvia had been genuine, yet the evidence of my error was right in front of me. He cared for her, perhaps deeply. And now he was watching her slip away and there was nothing he could do about it.
I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You must trust her to make the right decision."
"The right decision for who? For Lord Muck or Mr. Langley?"
"For her."
His eyes fluttered closed. His chest rose and fell with his heaved sigh. "I would trust her if…"
"If what?"
"If I'd told her I…had feelings for her."
It was difficult for me to hear him say it. I'd discouraged them all along, thinking they were only toying with one another because they knew nothing could ever come of it. It's what servants and masters or mistresses did. They teased and played and sometimes crossed the line, but they never expected anything to come of it. At least, that was how it was supposed to be.
