“What does that mean?”
“He tried to shield her from me. She turned her face away and he stepped between us. Naturally I was curious. I greeted her as I typically do. I have learned not to expect a reply because she is both shy and wary. Tonight was no different. Mr. Shepard did not exchange introductions. He was occupied helping Miss Chen. I held the door open for them when we reached it. It was then that the light from inside the house allowed me a glimpse of Miss Chen’s face. Her features were distorted. The simple explanation is that it was a trick of the light, but that would be incorrect. The left side of her face was clearly swollen. Her eye on that same side was only partially open.”
“Did you express concern? Ask her what happened?”
“No. That would have been inappropriate. I’m asking you.”
“And that’s appropriate?”
“I believe it is. Did you strike her?”
“That’s a ridiculous notion.”
“But not an answer to my question.”
“She probably tripped over that child who was clinging to her skirts. Or perhaps she walked into something.”
“She is the definition of grace.”
Victorine’s eyebrows rose. “Why, Mr. Cabot, I believe you have found something to admire about her. I find that repugnant and a betrayal of your Christian upbringing but will not endeavor to make you see reason.”
“She was mine,” he said quietly.
Victorine’s head tilted to the side. She regarded him oddly. “What?”
Martin could not help it. He teared up. “She was mine.”
Victorine shivered. The cold water had nothing to do with it. “What do you mean, she was yours?”
As quickly as his eyes had watered, they dried. “I had plans for her and you ruined them. You ruined her.”
“I did nothing. Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“If you believe that, then why even ask me if I struck her?”
“I thought you deserved an opportunity to defend yourself.”
“Defend myself? That assumes I did something requiring a defense. I didn’t. There. That is my defense. I am not guilty of whatever it is that you think I’ve done.”
Martin sighed. “An opportunity squandered. You really shouldn’t have touched her face. It was perfect. Perfect.”
Victorine had nowhere to go. She tilted her head backward to watch Mr. Cabot rise from his stool, and she flinched when he kicked it out of the way. It was impossible not to shrink from him as he bent over the tub. She felt his hands on her shoulders before he actually set them there. All that remained for her to do was confess.
“Yes,” she said hastily. “I slapped her.”
Martin did not remove his hands. His thumbs were very near the hollow of her throat. “You must have struck her very hard. Perhaps you did it more than once.”
“Twice.”
“Not more?”
She shook her head. It was both a negation and an attempt to loosen his grip.
“All right. Tell me why.”
“She was insolent.”
