“Mr. Roper!” She gave him a sunny smile. “How do you do this fine day?”
“Miss Smythe.” His strong fingers latched onto her wrist to prevent her from continuing forward, although she had already stopped to greet him. The rising sun cast his tall form in dark silhouette, making it impossible to read his expression. “What are you doing out here?”
Her brow furrowed as she tried to twist her arm free from his grasp. “Merely hoping to adorn my hair with a flower. If you don’t mind, I’d like to eat before morning lessons, and—”
“Your hair is lovely as it is,” Roper interrupted, his firm grip on her wrist at odds with what should have seemed a compliment. “You should go to breakfast now.”
Laughing uncomfortably in an attempt to diffuse a situation she clearly did not comprehend, she dipped a curtsey. “I thank you. But if you don’t mind—”
“I mind.” Roper’s grip intensified. “Come, I will walk you.”
She tried to pull away. He wouldn’t let her. A chill slithered down her spine. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t acted this way in months. No longer willing to continue the pretense of obviously false pleasantries, she jerked her throbbing wrist free from his grasp and leapt out of harm’s way. “I will return in a moment. First, I shall—”
Three steps. She had only progressed three small steps, but it was enough to clear the corner of the abbey and get a direct view of what the manservant had been trying so desperately to prevent her from seeing.
Alistair. Clipping roses. While bathed in the early morning sun. Violet stared in disbelief as he hummed and clipped without a care in the world.
He was fine.He was fine.
Speechless with the shock of betrayal, she stormed within arm’s reach and glared down at him until she was sure her head would explode. There was no sunsickness! He hadlied.
He glanced up at her and smiled. “Good morning, love. How did you sleep?”
White hot rage keeping her from forming articulate words, she jerked a hand into the air and pointed skyward in response.
He frowned only briefly before his cheeks flushed and he leapt to his feet. “Oh.”
At that, she absolutely found her voice. “Yes,” she bit out angrily. “Oh.”
“I—I —I... ” His stuttering might have been comical, were she not five seconds away from stabbing him with his own gardening shears. She couldn’t believe his audacity. She couldn’t believe her stupidity. How had she fallen for his lies?
No wonder not a single scientist had ever heard of the alleged sunsickness disease. It did not exist. At least not to the extent to which Alistair had suggested. Lily might have suffered burns when she was younger, but how long would she have had to be in the sun for that to happen?Alistairwas in no danger of catching fire unless Violet set him aflame herself.
How long had this fiction been going on? Were she and Lily the only ones confined to the shadows?
“Do you ever even sequester yourself within the walls of this godforsaken abbey?” she demanded, both her voice and heart cracking. “Or are you outside every day while the rest of us are imprisoned indoors? Please tell me this is the first time you’ve seen the sun and you’re just as surprised as I am that you haven’t crumbled to ash.”
His cheeks flushed with color.
She had her answer, then. Her stomach turned. She couldn’t stand to look at him. She’dtrustedhim. She hadn’t been that stupid in a long, long time.
He reached for her. She turned away.
“Violet, wait!” He scrambled to his feet. “Please stop and listen. I only went into town because—”
“I don’t care howoftenyour not-sunsick face sees the sun,” she snapped, gritting her teeth together to keep from crying. “I care about how often you looked me in the face andlied.”
His jaw worked wordlessly. They both knew there was nothing he could say to make this right. His expression tortured, he softly whispered, “I’m sorry.”
But it was not enough. Trust, once broken, could not be mended with a single word. Sometimes it could not be mended at all. How could he keep up a lie? After she’d bared her soul to him? After she’d confessed tomurder.
Violet’s entire body trembled. Honesty worked both ways. They had both kept secrets in the beginning. But he had continued to lie to her face, again and again, even at this point in their relationship. If they evenhada relationship. Her heart thudded at the realization. A man who lied about something this fundamental would have no problem at all lying about a thousand other things. After all, had he not lied to an entire town about the death of his daughter? About his own disease?
Her voice shook with unshed tears. “Just tell me one thing. Yes or no. Do you suffer any kind of sunsickness? Any tendency toward sun sensitivity at all?”
He dropped his gaze. At first, she thought he would not answer. But then his eyes met hers, slowly, painfully, as if he were forcing himself to face the moment with courage.
“No.” His voice was quiet, but he might as well have shouted the word.
