The man eyed him venomously, taunting him as if he could read Edmund’s mind.
“That is preposterous!” Edmund shook his head in disbelief, keeping a safe distance from this man. “You must be mistaken!”
“Ya seen ‘er, ‘aven’t ya?” Loveless snickered. “She be difficult to mistake fer anyone else, I reckon.”
Edmund swallowed heavily, feeling disoriented. The entire room was spinning around, and he had to hold onto the chair next to him, in order to maintain balance.
Something told him that patronage was not the real reason this man had come here. Edmund refused to help, and Loveless simply shrugged at that. Others would curse or beg, or any possible combination of the two. But, not Loveless. Not with that look of malice on his face.
“’ere.” Loveless fumbled in his pockets, then extracted a folded piece of paper, handing it over to Edmund.
It was oily, blackened by charcoal in some places, and the edges were all bent out of shape.
“What is this,” Edmund asked, not accepting it, but merely eyeing it.
“This be proof I’m tellin’ the truth,” Loveless nodded.
Edmund hesitated, but his heart urged him to take the paper and see what it contained. What kind of proof could this man possibly have? Edmund had to see it. He simply had to.
With a trembling hand, he took it, then unfolded the paper. It was a crude, but pretty accurate drawing of Loveless, holding some woman by the hand. She wasn’t smiling, nor could Edmund tell if she was squeezing his hand back.
All he could see was that it was Rosalie. As Loveless himself had said, there was no mistaking Rosalie for anyone else in the world. She was unique. She was painfully, beautifully unique, and that was what she would remain.
It can’t be…
His mind rang with resonance of deep sorrow. His heart tried to fight off the excruciating realization his mind had already accepted. But a small ray of hope rose from the darkest depths.
“This proves nothing,” Edmund scoffed. “It is merely a drawing which proves that you know her. Have you any other evidence of your marital status?”
Edmund’s nostrils flared wildly. Hope had made him feel powerful once again, his blood boiling. Loveless chuckled wickedly. He seemed amused by all this, and that in turn, made Edmund furious. His world was on the brink of destruction, and this man had the audacity to laugh in his face.
“Only dozens and dozens of satisfied audience members!” Loveless exclaimed. “They seen us. They seen me and ‘er, hand in hand, show after show, night after night. Ain’t that proof enough?”
Edmund’s jaw tensed. The pain in his phantom limb was reaching insufferable lengths. The light-headedness was becoming worse, intertwining with a horrific sensation of emotional pain. He felt like someone was stabbing him in the abdomen with a knife, over and over again.
He wanted to shout at this man. Curse at him. Throw him out of his house. Call the Constables to take him to prison, so he would never see the light of day again. But he had no legitimate reason for this, other than his incredible hatred for him.
“You must be wonderin’ why she be ‘ere,” Loveless answered Edmund’s next question before Edmund even had the chance to ask it.
His eyes lifted from the floor, staring at the man who was single-handedly responsible for destroying his life. Edmund felt like this was simply a bad dream, a nightmare which lasted much longer than it should have. He would wake up any moment and be back to the reality he had grown to love. Only, no moment of awakening arrived, and the eyes of the man opposite him glared at him as if they endeavored to steal his very soul.
“We had a fallin’ out,” Loveless kept on explaining, walking about the room, picking up objects as he saw fit, then inspecting them in his grimy hands, as if it was his room to begin with. Edmund was powerless to do anything, to say anything. “Women. They always want mo’ money. She ran out on me. Kept runnin’ till she found ye, and well… ye know the rest.”
He took a small statue from the corner of the room, which rested on a table. He turned it over in his hands, even brought his nose close to it, as if to sniff it a little. Then, placed it back down gently.
“Ya know women,” he shrugged. “Ye tell ‘em somethin’ they don’t like, and they be runnin’ away, as if they got somethin’ better. But they don’t. So now, I’m ‘ere to bring ‘er back.”
Bring her back.
Those words rang inside Edmund’s study, like an echo, repeating a single statement five times, only to make sure that he had heard it right. She was going away. This man was taking her away from him, and she would never return again.
Ever.
“Why didn’t you say that in the beginning?” Edmund demanded to know. “Why the need for this charade?”
“I needed ta know if she be ‘ere,” Loveless replied. “A man can’t be bargin’ into someone else’s house, demandin’ ta know if his wife’s there. Now, I seen ‘er, and I’m takin’ ‘er back,” he repeated.
Edmund still wasn’t certain if all this was true or not. This man was not trustworthy. That much was obvious.
