“How can you say that? You will have to tell your sisters—”
“Did you think I would leave you there in the bazaar?” he asked abruptly. “Let the shopkeeper turn you over to the magistrate?”
“Yes.” Her voice had quieted. Winnie realized she sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, and—perhaps she was. Perhaps that was why the sight of his calm face was blurred before her.
His jaw tightened. “Well, I wouldn’t. Whatever you think of me.”
“You had no reason to do otherwise! You ought to have done it. You ought to have let him take me. All of this is my fault—you never would have been drawn into this situation without my actions ten years ago—”
“What situation?” he said. “What were you doing in that shopkeeper’s stall? With all those bloody jewels?”
“I couldn’t tell you—I couldn’t let you—” Her voice fractured on the words.
“You couldn’t let mewhat?” he asked.
“I don’t—”
“Tell me, Winnie.” His arms flexed, his shoulders moving beneath his coat, as though to stop himself from reaching for her.
She was so tired of being alone. She wanted him to reach for her, wanted his body pressed solidly against her own. She wanted it so much it felt like a wound.
But she could not do it. She could not ask for more from him—not when he had already given her so much. He had saved her from incarceration, not once but twice now. He had sacrificed his reputation, his good name—for her. Forher.
He had done it without even knowing the truth. He had not demanded to know to whom the jewels belonged or how they had come into her possession.
She did not understand it.
In her lap, her hands moved. She watched herself pluck up her reticule. As if a puppet held her strings, she overturned the little bag and let the necklaces pour into her lap.
The late-afternoon sunlight flickered in through the windows of the carriage. The stones glowed, a flickering, unearthly incandescence against her brownish skirts. Pink and black, blue and blood-red, and threaded through everything, the cold fire of diamonds.
She could not bear to look at him. She had to explain. She had to make him see before he could think that she—before he—
“I did not steal them,” she got out.
God, she evensoundedguilty, her words tinged with desperation, her voice too high.
He was not going to believe her. She kept her eyes fixed on the jewels in her lap.
“I promise,” she said. Stupid, idiotic words. “I was trying to give them back. I know—I know it looks terrible. I know I have lied backward, forward, and sideways, but I swear to you, this time, I’m telling the truth.”
Oh God, she could not cry. She wouldn’t let herself. But there was an awful dry burning feeling in her throat, and—
“All right,” he said.
Her heart stumbled. She did not lift her gaze. The burning sensation in her throat rose to her eyes like a threat, and she tried to fight it back. “What do you mean?”
“All right,” he said again. “You did not steal them. Where the devildidyou get them? They look like they came off the neck of goddamned Empress Joséphine.”
She lost control of herself and looked up. His calm expression had not changed, though his hair had fallen down across his brow.
Despite her stalwart efforts, she tasted salt at the corner of her mouth. “You—believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” She didn’t have control of her voice. It swooped and wobbled like an uncertain bird. “Why should you believe me? You have seen me lie a dozen times—”
“Perhaps half a dozen.”
