She was weak, she was tired, and her heart was broken.
And then, quite belatedly, something else occurred to her.
She had trusted this woman because she seemed kind. Because she was at her bedside. Because she was a woman, a duchess.
But she clearly knew Felix well.
“Who are you to Winchelsea?” she asked, suspicion blossoming within her. “And why am I any safer here with you than I would be somewhere else?”
“I am Winchelsea’s friend, you might say,” Hazel told her quietly. “But I am also a detective myself who has aided in the investigations of the Special League alongside my husband, the Duke of Arden. In New York City, I was a Pinkerton agent. I infiltrated the Emerald Club to investigate your brother. Winchelsea hired me to help with investigations into your brother’s men here in London. That is how I met my husband. Now that I am expecting a child, however, I have stepped down from my role, and the Duke of Westmorland will be taking my place.”
Dread enveloped her. Was there no one here she could trust? How prophetic her dream was, for she was alone, in a sinking boat, in the midst of a vast and angry ocean. No one to save her. There was only one way this story could end, and it was with her sinking to the bottom of the sea.
“Perhaps you wish to arrest me then,” she bit out, doing her best to stare down the duchess, even from her sickbed, weak as she felt.
“I wish for no such thing,” Hazel told her softly, giving her hand a gentle pat where it was fisted in the bedclothes. “What I want is for you to get well, my dear, so this mess in which you have found yourself can be sorted out properly.”
Johanna did not dare believe it. She had been manipulated enough. “Thank you for your hospitality, Duchess, but I cannot remain here beneath your roof a moment longer.”
With her left hand, she attempted to flip back the bedclothes, only to cry out in anguish as a sharp pain exploded in her shoulder.
“Remain still, Miss McKenna,” Hazel chastised. “You were quite badly bruised in the explosion. Indeed, you are lucky to be alive. You will be going nowhere until you are healed and until your brother is no longer a threat to your safety.”
“Or until Scotland Yard decides to shackle me and cast me into prison,” she countered bitterly. “I will not remain here.”
“Yes,” the duchess argued firmly, “you will. As your fellow countrywoman, I insist upon it. You must trust me to look after you on that count alone. But if nothing else, let me assure you we have a good deal more in common than you might suppose. I am your ally, Miss McKenna, like it or not.”
“Not,” she decided. “I cannot trust anyone after all the lies I have been told.”
Hazel grasped her hand then, meeting Johanna’s gaze. “I know of three people you can trust with your life, Miss McKenna. Myself, my husband, and most of all, Winchelsea. Believe what you may of him, but know that I have never met a finer gentleman than he. He is honorable, noble, and good.”
She did not want to believe this.
Could not.
For she had the evidence to suggest otherwise.
“Do you deny he works for the Home Office?” she demanded.
Hazel shook her head. “No.”
“And do you deny that he was watching me?” she asked. “That he knew about my connections to Drummond before he ever met me?”
“No,” Hazel said gently. “But I also cannot deny the way he has been protecting you, tending to you, and worrying over you since yesterday. Actions do not lie even when words may seem to deceive and confuse us, Miss McKenna. Winchelsea is in love with you, and he is doing his best to keep you safe.”
She could not bear to believe it.
Did not dare.
Her heart could not sustain one more blow from him. Already, she had given him so much. Indeed, she had given himeverything. Her heart, her body, her trust.
“I wish I could believe you,” she whispered, lost in pain—physical warring with emotional. “But I cannot.”
“You cannot or you will not?” Hazel asked her shrewdly. “Whatever happened between you and Winchelsea, no one knows but the two of you. And that must be sorted out by you both accordingly. All I know is that I have an exhausted duke down the hall who will have my hide if I do not alert him to the fact that you are awake.”
“Do not tell him,” she begged, desperation eclipsing every other emotion.
Because if she had to face him now, after everything, she was not certain she could be strong enough. She was not sure she could resist him as she must.
