Holding her eyes, he removed both letters from his pocket, and coming forward, held them out to her. “These are your property. I have not read either.”
Numbly, she took the letters, and knew on the instant what they were. The seal of the one she had written was broken. She spread it open. “Where had you this?”
“It came to my hand this morning.”
Rosina opened the unbroken letter. She ran her eyes down the short message it contained. She barely took in the words as the implication sank into her brain. She felt sick.
“You took it to him! My letter — you took it to him yourself. Why did you not read it?”
“Because I wanted him to tell me himself what it contained. When he would not, I told him to write his reply for me to bring back.”
She heard him, but she did not take in much of what he said. Raith had not read the letters, either of them. What should stop him making himself master of their contents? Did he believe that in this extremity she would at last tell him the truth? If so, he was right. What choice had she?
Her breath was ragged. “I did not s-seek to contact him, Raith.” She dug into the hidden pocket of her gown and produced Forteviot’s first letter. “I wrote in reply to this.”
For a moment she held all three papers within her fingers. Then she thrust them upon him. “Read them. Read them all!”
Turning, she moved quickly away to the fireplace, and leaning her hands on the mantel, rested her forehead upon them, trying vainly to control the quickened breath that accompanied the palpitations of her bosom.
Raith watched her with a wrenching at his heart. He had wanted the lies exposed, but in spite of all, she drew his compassion. His resentment of Forteviot grew, and he unfolded the letters as he moved to the window to read.
So Forteviot attempted blackmail? He cursed under his breath. That pre-supposed that there was some disgrace attached to the matter of this sum of money he demanded, and said Rosina had been worth. In what respect? Heaven send it was not what he was beginning to suspect. What had it to do with the guardian’s debt to Forteviot? It began to seem that Rosina had been caught up in a situation which she had no power to control. Had he not suspected as much? Only how far had it gone?
His breast tightened as he felt the dread certainty of his wife having been obliged to succumb to Forteviot. With unsteady fingers he sifted through the man’s last communication. It was a brief statement of his own visit to Forteviot, stating only that Raith had challenged him to account for his correspondence with her, and asking whether she dared tell her husband the truth. Raith looked up to find Rosina’s eyes upon him.
She had turned to watch, the waif-look pronounced and altogether touching. He laid aside the sheaf of letters upon a side table, and came up to her. He reached for one of her hands, and brought it to his lips.
Softly then, he said, “Can you not trust me, Rosy?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Lord knows I want to, Anton!”
He said nothing, but only enclosed the quivering fingers within his own.
Rosina met the tenderness of his gaze, and sighed. She wanted to fall upon his chest, and feel his arms encircle her. She was seized with the urge to touch her fingers to his blemished features, so close, and open to her sight. But to win the right to that she must open her life to his inspection.
She looked down. “Very well. Loose me now, if you please. I will tell you it all.”
