She paused for an excruciating moment, then turned to fix her hair as well as she could, blind.
“Mr. Moore, though I know you have done much for me already, I would ask that you repeat to no one what you witnessed tonight.”
His brow furrowed, not believing what he was hearing. “Pardon? You would not wish De Rees brought to justice? Miss Tate, I will not accept—”
“You must! For what justice will there be?” Miss Tate scoffed sadly, bringing her hands into her lap. “The man will either say that he did not touch me or proclaim gladly that he did, but I was a willing participant. In either case, I would be ruined... No one would believe me even if I attempted to defend myself, even if I spoke the truth as I know it happened.”
“Ibelieve you,” he said, a paltry offer of support.
Nicholas had lived too long, seen too much of polite society, to know that Miss Tate was unfortunately right. And he snarled at the thought, hiding the intensity of his disgust for De Rees, for all men like him, from Miss Tate.
“That is because you do not know...” She stopped herself, shaking her head.
“What is it? What do I not know?”
Miss Tate wiped her eyes again, though this time they were dry. “You know who my father is,” she spoke ambiguously.
“I know his name, yes.”
“But you have not heard...” Evidently, she realized that he had not, because her eyes widened in surprise. “Well then, I shall not be the one to tell you.”
“Miss Tate, you puzzle me more with every second that passes. Is there aught you wish to tell me or not? Now is not the time for being coy, I am sure you will agree.”
She fell quiet, then began folding his soiled handkerchief into a square.
“Mr. De Rees believed he could have his way with me because my mother was mad, and they believe me to be mad too.”
She fell silent. So did Nicholas.
“If you did not learn it when we first met, you may well have learned it since,” she murmured. “You truly did not know?”
He had asked George what he knew of Miss Tate the day they had first met. But George—genteel,politeGeorge—had only shared with him the most basic information: her name, her father’s rank, the place where she had been born.
Taking a moment to consider her words, Nicholas found himself without a reply. He had come to Oxford with hopes of atabula rasa. To have found himself entangled with the daughter of a madwoman, someone who claimed that shetoowas mad, was hardly going to support his case in London.
Though when he looked at Miss Tate, when he considered everything he knew about her, the strength, the kindness, the wit she had shown so far, it seemed unlikely she had inherited the maladies of her forebearers.
Unlikely but not impossible,he thought. You are allowing your admiration for the woman to compromise your judgment. It is not the first time you have been lured in by a pretty face. Or have you forgotten recent times in London?
“I could not speak on the matter,” he replied carefully. “I know nothing of you.”
She laughed grimly, and Nicholas immediately wanted to recant his answer.
“No?” she asked, then lamely wiggled her bloody fingers at him. “Not even alittlesomething?”
“Well, perhaps now I am not so certain. A sane woman would not seek to cast doubt on such a thing...” he confessed with a little mirth, made uneasy by her confession as affection and caution warred inside him.
She smiled sincerely for the first time since he found her. “It does not matter. Whatever I am or am not... Mr. De Rees sought to take advantage, and...” A beat. “If you would, still, keep this secret for me... I would be in your debt for as long as we both live.”
He stood firm. “You cannot expect me not to seek him out, especially considering what you have divulged—”
“Do not,” she ordered, seeming to surprise herself with the passion of her command. “My family has suffered enough already because of me. You need not play the gallant knight for my sake.”
“Perish the thought.”
“Still, please, do not interfere, sir.”
Nicholas hesitated for a second, then ultimately nodded, though he was still convinced De Rees deserved to face the harshest punishment. “You are a strange woman,” he said. “Not mad perhaps—I shall reserve judgment on that matter for now—butstrangeindeed.”
