Steadman’s nostrils flared. “But my father must be punished.”
She nodded. “Yes, he must. But justice requires more than simply punishment. It also requires forgiveness and the opportunity for redemption. Without those, then what you call justice is merely retribution.”
“Then I must choose retribution, it seems.” His eyes cut away to stare at the wall, and he fell silent for half a minute. She waited, not knowing what else to do. When he faced her again, those eyes were heavy with resignation.
“You look lovely in that dress.”
“I wish I could believe a word you say.”
He frowned but nodded in recognition of her point. “The fact that I have lost your trust threatens to undo me. However, trust me when I say this. You are beautiful, Morgan, in all ways. For as long as you live, do not allow another person to tell you otherwise. And even if you choose never to speak to me again, know this. If anyone mistreats you the way your father has, I will hunt them down. You know I can, and I am a man of my word.”
The wholly unexpected compliment washed over Morgan like the warm waters of a cleansing sea. And for once, she felt worthy of accepting it. That was new. For an instant, she nearly abandoned her resolve. But then reality descended like a seeping fog to mar the perfection of the moment. Despite his compliments, declarations, and kisses, Steadman was willing to leave Morgan behind to seek revenge upon his own flesh andblood. She had been a fool to believe in a fantasy where he might see the light and find contentment in loving her instead. She would be a fool no longer.
“What will you do now?” he said into her silence.
“I will travel back to London tomorrow. That is, if I might borrow funds to purchase a seat on the mail coach.”
“That is not necessary…”
“Or I will ride back alone as Mr. Brady.”
His eyes remained focused on her as he swayed back and forth. “Wait for me. A woman should not travel the highways alone, disguised or not. Particularly one of your looks.”
Exhaustion overtook Morgan. She wanted the conversation to end. With a nod, she extended her hand while cursing the tears forming in the wells of her eyes. “I will miss you, Sir Steadman.”
He stared at the offered hand in apparent disbelief before gently shaking it. He turned to depart without a word, leaving an empty doorframe and no sign of his passing. The door latched with finality when she closed it, leaving her alone again to grieve what she had lost.
Chapter Nineteen
Sleep came fitfully for Morgan that night. The twin monsters of crushing disappointment and dread for the future conspired to rob her of much-needed rest. Well before dawn, she rose to pull on her dress, brush what remained of her once luxurious hair, and wonder what would become of her and those who relied on her. When her thoughts repeatedly returned to Steadman, she gently chastised herself. Despite her resistance to the idea that he might find her attractive, his declaration to her in the chapel had ignited a flame of incredulous hope. The snuffing of that flame by Steadman’s refusal to trade his path of vengeance for her affections left her dejected and resigned. But what had she expected? That a man of his stunning good looks and masculine charm could ever find an unremarkable, aging spinster worthy of his lasting affections? Any such notions seemed now nothing more than girlish fantasies.
Mired in despair, Morgan needed to escape the four walls of her room. Within minutes, she found herself outside the inn awaiting the sunrise. For her entire life, she had been forced to dismiss more bad days than she could count. She had learned to embrace the rising sun as a promise of better outcomes. As she strolled slowly toward the east along the thoroughfare, a two-wheeled cart moved toward her, drawn by a single horse. She shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun just peeking over the horizon to find the driver waving. When the cart halted, she blinked with recognition.
“Mrs. Lightboddy?’
The older woman appraised Morgan with sharp eyes and smiled shrewdly. “I figured you for a beautiful girl. I am always pleased to be proven right.”
Morgan ducked her head, unaccustomed to such praise. “I would not be so sure about that.”
Her reaction drew a laugh from Prudence. “Come, now, Miss Brady. Everything Steadman said of you is correct. You should not dismiss yourself so lightly. We live in a world where women are systematically overlooked. Do not aid your detractors by believing their lies.”
“But I am plain. Steadman is, well, the desire of women of all stations.”
Prudence shook her head with a matronly smile. “Oh, my dear sweet girl. Do you not know the truth?”
“What truth?”
“That every woman is beautiful. And when a man like Steadman reminds you of that fact, you should not disbelieve it.”
She shook her head adamantly. “But he has chosen vengeance against his own father over me. Anything he says of me does not matter against such a dismissal.”
“Steadman does not know what he wants. Give him time.”
“I have run out of time.” Morgan meant that on many levels. She eyed Prudence’s cart, which appeared heavily loaded, and noted the bedroll tucked into the corner just behind Prudence. “You wouldn’t be traveling to London, would you?”
Prudence smiled suspiciously. “Why are you asking?”
“This is not a Bow Street affair. I am simply anxious to return to London to finish this entire charade. I cannot afford a coach, I am unfamiliar with the way, and Steadman does not want me to travel alone.”
