Brisbane’s face was expressionless. “I think that is beyond the reach of your abilities, Mr. March. But I think you might have provided a better escort.”
Val’s hands tightened and he stepped forward.
“Don’t be stupid, Val. He’s quite right. I was a fool to come and you were a fool to come with me.”
Brisbane did not look at me. “Now, if you will oblige me by getting into the cab, Mr. March. I have some business to discuss with your sister.” Val hesitated, but Brisbane’s features were stony. Val threw me a look, of supplication I suppose, but I flicked my eyes toward the cab, indicating he should do as he was told. I doubted Brisbane intended to murder me on Hampstead Heath, but if he did, it was probably no more than I deserved.
Brisbane stepped aside, pulling me with him, so that Val could enter the hackney. With Val and the cabman looking on, there was little privacy there, so I was not entirely surprised when he put his hand under my elbow and directed me to a stand of trees some short distance away. They were a bit of a screen at least, and would offer some protection from Val witnessing the humiliation of what I was certain would be the dressing-down of my life.
“You needn’t bother, really,” I said as he pushed me against a tree. He had an arm above me, clamped to the rough trunk, ensuring I could not escape. “I will not run away. I deserve everything you care to throw at me. I have been vile and stupid and completely untrustworthy. You may shout as much as you like.”
I admit that I had hoped that this abasing little speech would win me a little pity. But Brisbane’s eyes were murderous. I had never seen him so completely in the grip of strong emotion, not even when he had been drugged. I swallowed hard and licked at my lips.
“Brisbane, say something. If you wish to strike me, do it and get it over with. I know you are frightfully angry, and you have every right…”
I stopped then because he made me. He did not strike me; instead he did something I had never expected. He reached for me. It was some time before he let me go.
When he did, I was breathing far too fast and I tasted blood on my lips. Without a word he grabbed my arm and half dragged me back to the hackney. He wrenched open the door and thrust me toward Val, who caught me, wide-eyed with surprise.
Brisbane turned and gave a little whistle to the cabman, who whipped up the horse, turning the hackney toward town. Brisbane did not look at me as we drew away. I sat very still, aware of Val’s scrutiny. He handed me a handkerchief. I touched it gingerly to my mouth.
“Did he hit you?” His voice was even, but I thought I detected a little ragged edge at the end.
“No.”
“Ah.”
He turned away then and for once did not ask questions. I was grateful for that at least. I had no answers. For Val, or myself.
THE THIRTIETH CHAPTER
Trust not the physician.
—William Shakespeare
Timon of Athens
Iwas awake the next morning when Morag brought my tea. I had been awake the better part of the night, considering my course of action. Confront Valerius with what I believed to be proof of his truly abominable deeds? Force my way into Brisbane’s rooms in Chapel Street and demand that we mend matters between us? Turn the entire matter over to Father? Or, most tempting of all, forget the entire mess and leave at once for Italy?
Morag put down the tray and peered at my face. “You’re green, you are.”
“Oh, Morag, you do say the sweetest things.”
She pursed her lips. “There’s no need to be churlish, my lady. I was simply inquiring after your health. You look as if you could use a tonic.”
I sighed and took the cup she thrust at me.
“I am sorry, Morag. I am unfit to be around other people today.”
She sniffed over her shoulder as she went to draw back the drapes. “Some might think that you’ve little enough to be unfit about—a rich lady, of good family, with not altogether unattractive looks. It’s spoilt you are, not appreciating the blessings the good Lord has given you.”
I took a deep, restorative breath of the tea-scented steam, then sipped, wincing at the touch of the cool porcelain against my swollen lip. “Very likely. And of course I am so very fortunate in my choice of domestic help.”
She bent to gather the clothes I had dropped on the floor when I had undressed myself the previous night. I had dismissed her as soon as I arrived home. She had blinked at my costume, but for once said nothing. Apparently Aquinas’ frequent lectures on the imperturbability of a good servant were beginning to take effect.
“You are about to be more fortunate. I happened to over-listen when that Frenchie gave his notice to Mr. Aquinas.”
“Renard? He has given his notice?”
