She needed time and peace to absorb all of that, the accusations and Anthony’s surprisingly sensible reasoning. She could not think in this state.
But of course,nowwas when Han deigned to call.
As a frequent visitor and her future husband, he was not even announced, simply walked into the drawing room and came toward her, both hands held out. She backed away from him, unable to bring herself to touch him. A frown of incomprehension tugged at his brow. His hands dropped slowly to his sides.
“What is it?”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Anthony said hastily. “But Bella? Don’t do—or say—anything you’ll regret.”
“Come, sit down,” Han said gently as the door clicked shut. “Tell me what has upset you so.”
“I can’t sit,” she said, her voice oddly stifled, while her emotions ran riot. “Did you go that house, Han? That house of immorality? Did my father?”
He understood. A flash of enlightenment, even annoyance, showed in his eyes. Eyes she had trusted.
“I very much doubt your father went there,” he said quietly. “I should be very surprised. But it was that back doorstep he was found upon.”
“And you?” she challenged.
A rueful little smile just touched his mouth, and her world truly fell apart. “I did go there once. Last night, for the first time.”
The blood drained from her face, leaving her skin cold. “I want you to go.”
“I won’t,” Han said with unexpected firmness. “Not until you’ve heard why I went there, what I did, and what I learned.”
*
Constance, Solomon, Janey,and Hat all squashed into the carriage to return to the establishment. It was to be a mere drop in and out, just to make sure there was no more trouble and that the girls and their protectors were in good spirits.
In fact, there was outrage in the crowded kitchen. All the occupants of the house had gathered there, staring down at a large sheet of paper.
“What is it?” Constance asked with foreboding.
Sarah picked it up and handed it to her. Solomon peered over her shoulder. It was written on in bold black ink, all in capital letters.
WHORES, BEGONE.
THERE IS NO PLACE FOR YOU AMONG DECENT PEOPLE. GO BACK TO YOUR GUTTERS FOR ASSUREDLY YOU ARE ALL GOING TO HELL, ESPECIALLY THE WHORE OF BABYLON HERSELF.
LEAVE THIS HOUSE NOW BEFORE WORSE HAPPENS.
Constance had heard it all—and much worse—many times before, and yet it took all her strength to make herself laugh.
“I really don’t think so,” she drawled, still smiling. “If this is meant to frighten us, it was not written by anyone who’s faced what we have. Where did you find it?”
“Nailed to the back gate,” Jeremy said. “When we came in for our supper.”
“I’ll bet you anything you like it came from that bloody old witch Willow,” Janey said with contempt. “Here, Jeremy, why don’t you and me take a shovelful to her door?”
“No,” Constance said sharply. “No retaliation. No one will arrest them for this kind of thing, but you are more vulnerable. We shall remain the perfect neighbors.”
“Did you see either of these women or their servants in the mews?” Solomon asked. “In the later part of the afternoon?”
But of course, no one had.
Constance made light of it, while urging everyone to be vigilant, to observe without fighting back. “Our continued existence here might depend on that,” she said seriously, and was relieved to see the reluctant nods. These people were fighters because they’d had to be, and showing weakness did not come naturally.
“In this case, it’s showing strength,” Solomon added. “And frankly, such nonsense harms none of us.”
