Memories of his deep, threatening tone and the intense fury in his eyes while he demanded Mr. Wilcot release me rose to the surface. I had never seen the lieutenant's expression tight with anger, and I could not blame Margaret’s husband for cowering in intimidation. The moment I was free from Mr. Wilcot’s hold, I had been thoroughly torn between fleeing to safety elsewhere and finding that safety in Edward’s arms. The latter had been so alarming that it, too, had frightened me. Never had I desired the comfort and protection of a man other than my father.
Finally knotting the reins, Edward spun around, his eyes immediately locking with mine. He marched toward me with determination and purpose, his gaze never wavering. His great coat caught the shallow breeze and fanned out behind him. The sun, now at its peak in the sky, shone down on his sharp jaw and highlighted the dark lashes framing his eyes.
My heart tripped, and it was not until he reached me that I realized I had been holding my breath. His hands came to rest on my arms, just below my shoulders. Tension emanated from him in waves, but his grip was gentle.
“Are you well? Did he harm you?” His words still held that same intensity as when he’d spoken to Mr. Wilcot, only now, they were tainted with genuine concern. My skin heated beneath his gloved fingers, despite the layers of fabric separating us, and a rush of pleasant tingles raced through me.
“I am well enough,” I managed to say.
He relaxed, his shoulders slumping. “Has that man bothered you before? Who is he? Do you know him well? If you’ve had someone stalking you, why have you not mentioned it to your father? And why in Heaven’s name are you out without at least a maid as a chaperone?” His mouth snapped closed. Red tinted his cheeks, and he released my shoulders. “Forgive me. I should not have fired so many questions at once.”
At one time, I might have balked at his intrusion into my business, but today, I found I could not. His questions were born out of concern, and I could not be upset with him. I owed him gratitude, not ire.
“Which question would you like an answer to first?” I asked softly.
He tilted his head, a look of surprise twisting his expression. “You plan to answer them?”
I shrugged, though I averted my gaze. “You deserve that much after rescuing me, I should think. Besides, you are stubborn and shan’t let it go. I know you well enough to expect persistence. And perhaps if I tell you the truth, you will not mention this to my father.”
“He should know, Annette. For your safety and—”
“I know.” A sigh escaped me, and I looked at him, fully prepared to beg. “I know, but his health is already so poor. I fear oversetting him with worry. Nothing happened, thanks to you, and I swear to be far more careful in the future.”
The muscles in his jaw feathered several times. “Fine, but I expect the truth—the whole truth—from you. I cannot agree to keep the incident from your father without it. Let us start with who that man is.”
“His name is Mr. Wilcot. He lives on the property adjacent to Kenwick. He is married to my best friend, Margaret.”
“I assume you know him fairly well then.”
“Not well enough to predict how horrendous he truly is.” I shook my head. “When he first moved to Chatham, he seemed a kind, thoughtful gentleman. He quickly grew fond of Margaret, and she of him. I thought they were in love. Margaret certainly confessed her feelings to me. By all accounts, Mr. Wilcot seemed equally enamored.”
My blood turned to ice, the guilt and anger filling me with the fiercest kind of retribution. A numbing cold seeped through my limbs. I folded my arms, blinking away the moisture gathering in my eyes. “The banns were read. They married. But once vows were exchanged, everything changed.Mr. Wilcotchanged.”
I scoffed and brushed past Edward to pace the open area behind him, hoping movement would thaw my chilled body. Edward watched me in silence, and his patience unnerved me. But the more I thought about Margaret's situation and the way her husband had tricked her, the more my frustration swelled. I kept pacing, and the words tumbled out. “Mr. Wilcot pretended to love Margaret. He charmed her with lies so she would agree to marriage.”
Edward’s brows pinched. “For what purpose? If not love, then what motivation was there to tie himself to her?”
“Money. Margaret received an inheritance from her grandmother. Five thousand pounds and the cottage where she now resides with Mr. Wilcot. Many men would find such a thing tempting, would be willing to lie to get their hands on it. Margaret and I trusted him, and he fooled us both.
“But that is not even the worst of it. Mr. Wilcot has taken complete control of Margaret’s life. He does not permit her to leave the house without him. She cannot attend parties or make calls without his permission, and there have been times when he has struck her. Margaret did not simply lose her fortune when she married him; she lost everything. Her independence, her freedom—her one chance to find happiness with someone. That man took it all.”
Tears pricked at my eyes again, and this time, I could not keep them from spilling out. Having ceased pacing, I turned away from Edward, not wanting him to see the emotion I could not hide. Not wanting him to see my vulnerability.
When next he spoke, his voice was soft and close. “This is why you do not wish to wed.”
It was a bold, presumptive statement and entirely accurate. How had he determined my reason? I had spoken of it to no one, not even Margaret. It was a secret I kept close to my heart, because that kind of vulnerability had no place in my independent future.
I spun around, abandoning my resolve to hide my tears, and stared into Edward’s dark eyes. He stood so close, I could feel his warmth, could see the slight rise and fall of his chest. He stared back at me not with pity, but a deep understanding and compassion that I had never dared to imagine he possessed. The part of me that had intended to deny his claim withered, and a sob escaped instead.
Edward pulled me into his arms, and I went willingly.
He tucked me against him, wrapping me in a warm, protective embrace that I never wished to leave. My sobs turned inconsolable, and he held me tighter still, stroking my back with a gentle caress that seemed to erase all memory of Mr. Wilcot’s touch.
Mr. Wilcot. Just the thought of his name reignited my anger, but not all of it was directed toward him. I held too much blame. The guilt was a burden born of my actions. My ineptitude.
“I should have seen it,” I said, my voice quaking with emotion. “How could I not have seen what a beast he is? It’s my fault Margaret is trapped. My poor judgment led to this.”
Edward rested his cheek against my head, his voice a hushed whisper as he continued his ministrations on my back. “It is not your fault. You could not have known.”
