There was nothing Jacob wanted to do more than plant his fist right in the middle of Uppington’s smug, self-important face.
He knew better than to attempt such retaliation in front of this audience, however. Although “earl” was merely a courtesy title until Uppington inherited his father’s marquessate, a Black man assaulting the son of a rich white lord in a public park would not end well for Jacob.
Wynchester or not.
Nor would Jacob risk accidental injury to Vivian due to proximity.
“We’ll interview him,” he murmured softly as he coaxed her back toward the carriage. “Perhaps no lord in that family would lower themselves to speak tous, but we’re not the only weapons at our disposal. Chloe and Faircliffe will handle them both, and if there are any clues to glean—”
Vivian let Jacob tuck her back into the carriage with an uncharacteristic silence far more worrying than a well-deserved rant would have been. Either she was still reeling from Uppington’s hateful treatment of her, or she was plotting his untimely demise.
Probably both.
“I remember him,” she said quietly as she leaned her head against the carriage door.
Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. “You know Uppington?”
“I know men like him.” She didn’t look up. “I was born on Demerara. Born to a slave, which made me one, too. Property of Viscount Ayleswick, like a boot or a used handkerchief.”
A handkerchief like the one Uppington had used to “clean” her touch from his white skin.
Jacob cupped his hand over hers.
She met his eyes. “Reality was inescapable. I spent every moment of every day and every night focused only on survival. Mine, and others.”
He put the pieces together. “When you first came for help, you mentioned Viscount Ayleswick was Quentin’s father.”
She nodded. “Lord Ayleswick was enamored with my mother’s sister. Or rather, he took Aunt Kamia as mistress, like it or not, whenever he visited from London. It didn’t take long for her belly to grow.”
Jacob’s jaw tightened.
“I thought it was a cruel disaster, but Aunt Kamia saw a way out. Rather than allow her child to be born into the same mean life that she and the rest of us had, she convinced Ayleswick to take her and his soon-to-be bastard child to England.”
His heart went cold. “Leaving her own sister and enslaved ten-year-old niece behind?”
“Saving one of us was better than saving none of us. We didn’t blame her for choosing survival.”
Not blame, no. The horrific situation wasn’t Aunt Kamia’s fault. But Jacob could only imagine how complicated Vivian’s feelings were. Then and now.
“A year later,” she continued, “before my mother succumbed to a brutal punishment, she told me to find my own way. No matter whatit took. Never to back down, no matter who or what I faced. She said it was better to die giving your best effort to thrive than to live under someone else’s thumb.”
Jacob paused. “Your mother was punished to death?”
“She wanted to lead an uprising. It might have worked if she hadn’t been caught recruiting co-conspirators before she could hold the final meeting. Ayleswick’s plantation overseer tried to make an example of her.”
“I’m guessing his attempt didn’t work?”
Viv gave a brittle smile. “I became the plantation’s worst nightmare. I undermined everything I could and eventually organized an almost-successful uprising. There were too many of us involved to punish us all, but I knew I wouldn’t be spared. I had dared to break the rules—and would die for my boldness, just like my mother.”
“How did you get out alive?”
“Quentin,” she said with a wan smile. “I told you he rescued me. I ended up on a boat instead of in a casket. Summoned to England by Lord Ayleswick, at my aunt’s request. It took years, but she managed to save another child, too.”
“That’s when you became your cousin’s governess?”
“Companion, first. Aunt Kamia taught me to read and write. That changed my life as much as leaving Demerara. I was insatiable. Read everything I could get my hands on. For all the good it did.” She winced. “When Quentin needed me most, I couldn’t save him.”
“You will,” Jacob said firmly. “It’s not over yet.”
