Sari Robins (9 page)

Heath stepped forward. “Honestly, Mr. Pitts, I don’t see what’s upsetting you so much.”

Mr. Pitts straightened. “Upset? I’m not upset in the least! How dare you make accusations as if I have something to be upset about?”

For the next twenty minutes Heath tried every avenue to calm Mr. Pitts’s fears, without success.

Finally, at Tess’s urging, Heath and Tess quit Mr. Pitts’s office.

Silently they walked along the corridors accompanied by the guard.

“I can’t understand why the man wouldn’t accept that I had no hidden motive.” Heath strode alongside her, his frustration eating at him like a parasite. He was a barrister, for heaven’s sake; he should’ve been able to convince the man of his honest intentions.

“He couldn’t accept it because there’s no good reason for you to be here.”

“With the society—”

“My point exactly. There’s no good reason for you to be making application to the society. It begs the question of what you are about.”

“We’ve been over this ground before–—”

“Not to my satisfaction, or obviously Mr. Pitts’s.”

“You both should accept my word as fact.”

“Why? Because you say so?”

Stopping, he turned her to face her. “Unless you’ve something to hide.”

Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin. “Don’t assume Mr. Pitts is guilty of anything simply because he wouldn’t swallow your every explanation whole.”

“Maybe I wasn’t speaking of Mr. Pitts.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then who are you—?”

“There you are!” Lady Blankett swept up to join them, her face flushed and slightly out of breath. “Some of the women aren’t feeling well today. There’s a fever going around, so we had to cut our visit short. The countess was most insistent that we not press the poor women further. She and the others are already in the courtyard.” Her greenish-blue gaze flitted from Tess to Heath and back again. “Ah, how did it go with Mr. Pitts?”

Tess scowled. “Not well.”

“The man was decidedly unreasonable—” Heath began.

Tess interrupted with a raised hand, “It’s my own fault, really, Janelle. I should have told you this was a bad idea.”

Heath straightened. “This was her idea?”

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m not the only one who wishes you’ll lose this bet. In this instance, however, our own machinations have harmed our good works. I had assumed that Mr. Pitts wouldn’t find out your identity if we were here simply to meet some of the prisoners. Obviously I miscalculated.”

“You can’t expect me to play the obedient dog.”

“And you need to appreciate that your little prank has consequences! You should quit now before–—”

“Don’t waste your breath. I’m no quitter. I’ll see the process through.”

“What I’m trying to figure out is what got you started!”

“Enough!” Lady Blankett raised her hands high. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

Tess glared at Heath, but blessedly held her tongue.

“Come away, and we can figure this all out later.” Lady Blankett urged them along like wayward children.

Heath shot Tess a triumphant smile. “Saved by the matron,” he whispered for her ears only.

Her lip moved silently,
This time
.

“I
’d like to know how you manipulated this,” Tess ground out staring out the coach window as the London streets passed by. She was irritated with Heath for being such a bullheaded, thickheaded…
man
. And irritated with herself for being so unsettled by him. She shouldn’t allow him to unnerve her so! Yet when she was with him she wanted to…wanted to…knock some sense into him! Do him violence until he admitted the truth of what he was about. And confessed, of course, that he was completely wrong about women. The pigheaded jackass.

She did feel guilty about the “starched and full of himself” comment, though. He had risen high on his own merit and should be proud. Perhaps it was simply the contrast from when he was young; he’d been so unassuming and easy to be around. Now he was stiff, and that business about marrying up!

He can’t go to a prison for females. He is courting a young lady of a very respectable family of the ton,
Bills had said. She withheld a snort.

Heath didn’t like her family. Not that she could blame him after what had happened. And she certainly wasn’t “very respectable,” unlike the lady he was courting. But she didn’t care. Why should she? The Whilom girl was probably a snob, and the two of them could be eminently respectable and
boring
together.

Inwardly she harrumphed, feeling a mite better, but not really.

“Manipulated what?” Setting his hat on the seat beside him, Heath stretched his long legs out before him as his body swayed to the motion of the carriage. He was so large he practically filled the small space, making her feel crowded.

She crossed her arms. “How is it that you and I are alone in my carriage while everyone else is in the countess’s?”

Those brawny shoulders shrugged. “The countess should ride in her own carriage with her companion, of course. Lady Blankett wanted to speak with Miss Gammon, and her friend Lady Genevieve wished to listen. Mrs. Thomas wanted to ride in a countess’s coach, and Bills…well, Bills wants to be near Mrs. Thomas.”

“Why would your friend wish to be near Lucy?”

“I’ll leave that for Bills to say.”

On edge, Tess recrossed her arms. “I don’t understand this. I don’t see you for over ten years and then I can’t seem to get rid of you. What are you about?”

“As I’ve explained, it’s about a bet.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What hidden motives could I possibly have?”

Turning away, she considered her worries about the Foreign Office. Could he know about her work? If so, what could it signify? Somehow she doubted that was it and feared his motives were far more personal. She’d been dreading this accounting for years, even though she knew it was long overdue. She owed him and she hated it.

She swallowed, feeling the gauntlet he’d laid like an iron locket around her neck. Still,
now
she was a woman who’d rather understand what she was up against than face the unknown like an ostrich with its head in the sand.

“Really, Tess. If I had any scheme, what could it possibly be?”

She bit her lip. “Revenge?”

He straightened. “Revenge? For what?”

“For getting your father sacked.”

His body tensed, and his hands gripped the cane so tightly the leather of his gloves squeaked. “What are you talking about?”

She swallowed as the guilt that had burrowed itself so deeply into her psyche rose up to taunt her. “I got your father sacked. It was because of me that he was let go. That you had to leave Morganfield Hall.”

Tense silence filled the carriage.

Tess felt the disappointment like a shaft of glass in her heart. “So you don’t deny it. You’re here to take your revenge.”

Heath lifted his gloved hand and rubbed his chin, his dark gaze troubled. “What makes you assume
so much responsibility for what happened ten years ago?”

“You know very well—”

“No, I don’t.”

Shifting in her seat, Tess shook her head as the images flashed in her mind, dredging up shame and guilt and an aching sense of loss. Why did the incident upset her still? Mayhap because she’d been so submissive. She hated recalling how she’d been, always remembering her passivity with a knot of shame in her middle.

“Tess?”

She blinked, brought back to the present.

“I think I deserve an explanation.” His tone was gentle, making her feel even worse.

But she was at a loss for words to explain her fault. Distantly she had a flicker of sympathy for how Lucy might have lost her ability to speak; some things were too awful to release into the world.

Heath rose and moved to sit beside her. His body was like a wall of warmth as he grasped her hand.

“What happened, Tess?” he asked, his voice quietly urging.

She swallowed, then shook her head. “It’s so stupid, really.”

“Don’t diminish it, just tell me what happened.”

She stared down at her small hand encased in his larger one. They both wore the same color leather, chocolate brown, reminding her of his eyes. That was one thing about him that had not changed. That, and his ability to comfort her.

Suddenly she recalled the two weeks when as a girl she’d been confined to bed, miserable with fever, chills, and a terrible rattling cough. Most of the family had avoided her; even her mother had stood in the doorway to her room for barely a moment, making her feel like a pariah. Not Heath. Every day he’d come into her chamber, set a chair before her bed, and read to her. Her favorites,
St. George and the Dragon
and
The Glass Slipper
. While he read, often she would doze, but she still heard his soothing voice in her dreams.

They had been such good friends. The invisible barriers of being the opposite sex and of their respective stations were always present, but they’d shared a companionable friendship. But then, after Heath had been sent away, the memory of that relationship had haunted her, exacerbating the guilt of her culpability for having destroyed it.

How he must hate her. And she could hardy blame him. She could only imagine how difficult it must have been for his father to obtain a decent post after being dismissed without references.

Heath exhaled, his brow furrowed, his face troubled. “What happened that makes you think that you’re responsible for my father being discharged?”

Her lips felt glued shut. For some reason even after all these years, she couldn’t bear to face his hatred.

“At least tell me where you were when it happened.” His tone was kindly yet insistent. “The garden? One of the drawing rooms?”

“The art room.” It had been a lovely yellow-painted chamber with tall windows facing south. The sun
had shone so brightly in the afternoons that one had to almost wear a hat. After the incident she had never gone back into that room. It had been locked up, anyway, and she hadn’t lifted a paintbrush or a piece of charcoal since.

“What were you doing in the art room, Tess?”

“Painting.”

“What picture?”

“The one of you reading in the garden.”

His brow furrowed. “The one that you made me move five times for until the light was just right?”

Her lips almost lifted as she remembered. “Yes. I was adding some finishing touches.”

“What happened while you were adding the finishing touches?”

Exhaling, she pushed away the feelings and just focused on the facts. “Father came in very upset.”

“How did you know he was upset?”

She suddenly had the sense that he must be a very good interrogator when in court. He was encouraging, yet tenacious in going after the details. “His hair was mussed, his clothing in disarray.” She looked up at Heath then, seeing the understanding in his eyes.

He nodded. “He never had a button out of row or a scuff on his shoes. He was always immaculate in his dress.”

“But, even more distressing…that day…his eyes were wild.”

“Then what happened?”

Inhaling, she shook her head. “He barged into the room, ranting, upset. So very upset. I couldn’t under
stand why he was so angry with me. I couldn’t think of what I’d done.”

She swallowed as her distress rose up like bile. “He came over to where I was working and when…and when he saw the painting of you…he went crazy. I’ve never seen him like that. He was wild…he kicked over the easel and flung the painting to the floor. Then he trampled it, grinding his heels into it…all the while screaming…” Her brow furrowed and shame enveloped her, gripping her chest so tightly that it was hard to breathe.

He squeezed her hand, comforting and yet encouraging. “What did he say, Tess?”

“He screamed…” The words thickened in her throat, stuck there until she wrenched them out, “…about my lack of virtue, my immorality, how I’d forsaken every godly notion…”

She was lost in the memory of it, until he brushed the back of his hand across her cheek, to wipe away a tear. “Then what did he do, Tess?”

His calm urging gave her strength. “He struck me.” Closing her eyes, she turned her head into his shoulder. “He punched me in the head. The next day…you were gone.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her so closely she felt as if he was squeezing the pain out of her. His arms were so strong, so enveloping, his chest so wide and inviting. She leaned into him, relishing that wall of comfort he gave her to rest on. She inhaled his rich earthy scent, feeling a sense of safety that she hadn’t felt in years.

She couldn’t recall the last time anyone had held her like this. She’d missed it, had ached for it in a way that she hadn’t recognized until this moment. It felt so good, yet bittersweet for the contrast to the loneliness and lack of comfort of so many years.

His broad chest lifted with a deep inhalation. “What a bastard. If I’d known…”

“There was nothing you could have done for it. You weren’t there, and if you would have been…well, I’m glad you weren’t.”

Leaning back, he stared down at her. “You’re protecting me now?”

“No, of course not…” Heath didn’t need her protection; he never had. He’d always been one to curl his fists and roll up his sleeves rather than back down from a fight. How had that iron-willed lad turned into the refined gentleman holding her so scandalously close?

Trying to ignore the heat seeping from him and warming her in a way she hadn’t felt in years, Tess bit her lip. “I’ve never told anyone.” She’d been too ashamed of herself and, secretly, of her father. She couldn’t quite face the fact that the father whom she’d admired and adored as a man above men could be as unjust and spiteful as every other poor sod.

“What happened after he struck you?”

“I ran away. I couldn’t believe he’d done it, but I was in such shock, I simply ran, and ran…”

His arm tightened around her. “What a selfish, ignorant bastard!”

“It was a long time ago. I don’t know why I even let
it bother me anymore. I suppose, seeing you, well, I’ve always felt guilty that it was my fault that my father sacked your father and that you were sent away.”

“But it wasn’t your fault, Tess.”

“I know we’d never done anything wrong, but I suppose my father, well, he was upset about me growing up and nearing marriageable age and being so close to you…I tried to consider how he looked at things…”

His jaw worked. “I can’t believe that you’re actually trying to be understanding! The man struck you! For no good reason! And then left you believing that you were responsible for damaging my father’s career!”

“You know…” She swallowed, relieved to have told him and yet sad just the same. “I’ve never been alone with my father since then. If there is ever a chance for us to be alone in a room together, I escape, run away like I did that day. Stupid, really; I’m almost twenty-five years old and I’m afraid to be alone with my father.”

“You think he’ll–—”

“Oh, I don’t fear that he’ll raise a hand to me. I’d never let him do that…It’s almost as if I’m afraid he’ll actually want to
talk
about it…and that I just couldn’t bear. I just want to forget about the whole thing. If I didn’t feel so badly about your father…well, then I probably would have by now.”

Heath exhaled, hugging her close. “My father didn’t get sacked because of my relationship with you, Tess.”

“You and I were too friendly. My mother had made comments, but I didn’t listen. I suppose I didn’t wish to.”

“You and I had nothing to do with it, Tess. It was wholly unrelated. Your father was a knave to take out his anger on you, his perfectly innocent daughter who had nothing whatsoever to do with any of it. Shame on him, the stupid bugger.”

Her brow furrowed. “Then why…?”

Anger darkened his features, tinged with sadness. “My father…had a terrible…lapse in judgment.”

“Lapse in judgment, what do you mean? Your father was a very sensible man.”

“Sensible most of the time, perhaps, but he made a stupid blunder. A falter in prudence that truly cost him. He painted a picture of your mother.”

“So?”

“She didn’t have any clothes on.”

Tess pressed her hand to her mouth, and her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

“One of the maids found it and gave it to the butler, who brought it immediately to your father.”

“How do you know this?”

“When I demanded to know why we had to leave, my father told me. He felt quite dreadful about the whole thing.”

Tess shook her head. “No wonder my father lost his wits.”

“I suppose in his anger, your father went to the ‘scene of the crime’ and thereupon came upon you and saw you painting a picture of me…and, well, it
was too much for him.” He scowled. “But he should never have laid a hand on you. He should have been man enough to be a proper father!”

Tess bit her lip as the realizations settled upon her. “I’ve been carrying this guilt for so many years…that I’d been inappropriate, not a proper daughter. I thought you hated me.”

“No, Tess.” His voice was gruff, stimulating a heat deep in her belly. “I don’t hate you.”

She looked up. His eyes blazed with warmth and something else…Hidden in those cocoa brown depths she saw a yearning, one that stirred something deep inside her. Tess was achingly aware of how close they sat pressed together. She was almost in his lap, his arms engulfing her, his lips mere inches from her mouth, so close that his breath became hers.