“May I sit down?” she asked.
He watched her a moment, then nodded toward two chairs that faced the fire. She took one with a long sigh and he took the other.
“Speak,” he commanded.
“Oh, I hardly know where to begin.” She shook her head and felt the bone weariness she couldn’t afford flood every fiber of her being. “Everyone knows the story—I have never had to tell it to anyone who didn’t already have an inkling, wrong or right, about the truth.”
“Just speak,” he repeated, a little gentler.
“My father was a deeply flawed man.”
“Are not we all?” Avondale mused softly.
“I suppose that is true. All men and women are flawed in some way. A bad habit, a strange attraction.” He blinked at her and she realized she was rambling, as she was wont to do when she was nervous. She cleared her throat and tried to focus. “But my father was more flawed than most. When he died last week I found a collection of items he had stolen from others in the ranks of Society. He took things, you see. Small things, big things, things of value and not. He stole, Your Grace.”
“And so you came here to continue on in his footsteps?” Avondale said with a shake of his head. “A rather dangerous calling for such a beautiful young lady.”
She sucked in her breath at the way he saidbeautiful. He drew the word out and it was like he caught her with it. She stared at him in silence before she recalled the story she was telling.
In a moment, he would not see her as beautiful.
“You have it all wrong, Your Grace. I didn’t come here totakeanything,” she said, reaching into her pocket, where she’d managed to stuff the brooch when he grabbed her. “I came here to return something.”
She held out the item in her shaking hands. He leaned in, and when he saw what she held, he leapt from his chair and backed up three long steps. He stared at the brooch, then up to her face.
“He stole this? From me?” he whispered, his voice suddenly rougher. Filled with raw emotion.
She noted he did not try to retrieve the item. He just stared at it, his shoulders trembling. “Yes, it seems he did. I found it in his desk drawer just this afternoon when I was looking for a quill,” she said. “I do not know when he did so, I do not know how, I can only imagine why. But he took it.”
“Two years ago,” he murmured, at last reaching out. He still didn’t take the brooch from its spot in her palm, but he brushed his fingers across it, across her hand, sending a wild jolt of awareness through her. Then he snatched his fingers away. “He took it two years ago. At least that was when I realized it was missing.”
“It was…it was your sister’s, wasn’t it?” she pressed, even though she shouldn’t.
His gaze jerked to her face and his lips thinned, turning as white as the scar that cut through them. “Yes. Did you know Anne?”
“A little,” Marianne admitted. “We were of an age. I wasn’t close to her, but we were friendly when we encountered each other. She was a lovely young woman. I-I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Don’t bother with your empty words,” he snapped, stepping toward her. “Your father stole from me and now you sneak into my house, as much a liar as he was, to give it back. Why?”
She let out a long sigh at his anger. She’d known she had earned it, so it didn’t surprise her. “Because when I initially uncovered what he’d done, I called the watch, hoping the things he’d taken could be returned with some discretion. Instead, this horrible inspector used my father’s bad acts in order to further himself. He has spread the truth far and wide, and he has destroyed our family reputation. He is nothing less than a demon and seems to take great pleasure in hurting others. I knew if I called on him to help me return this to you, it would only add fuel to an already raging inferno. Sneaking in here with the idea of just leaving it on your desk was cowardly, I admit it. But it was an act of desperation.”
“To protect yourself,” he sneered.
She shook her head. “I have very little to protect. I am already considered an old maid, Your Grace. I have no illusions that my reputation will recover from this. I’m trying to protect…to protect my younger sister. She is a child, just ten. I can only pray these whispers may die down by the time she is to enter Society. I must hope for that so that she could have some chance at a future. But I must do everything in my power to make those whispers go away more quickly.”
He arched a brow. “Give the girl a good dowry when she comes of age and any sins will be forgiven.”
“I agree, but that is out of the question. My cousin has inherited the title from my father, as he had no sons, and the new earl is bent on removing us from sight. We have a pittance as an inheritance—it will barely be enough to keep us fed and sheltered.” Tears filled her eyes as she told this stranger her plight. Hearing the full weight of it for the first time made her stomach turn. “It is an uphill battle.”
He stared at her in a silence that seemed to stretch forever, then slowly shook his head. “You could have destroyed this or sold it. You didn’t have to risk what you did to return it.”
She shrugged. “I could not do that. It would make me no better than my father, wouldn’t it? What kind of sister would I be ifthatwas the example I set for Juliet?”
His expression remained cool and unreadable as he took in what she said. Then he asked, “And you think bringing this back to me makes up for what your father did?”
“It’s all I can do,” she said softly.
His eyes lit up briefly and he moved toward her another long step. She shifted in her seat as she watched him move. His motions were graceful but also intimidating. And yet she didn’t stand or back away from him. She didn’t want to.
