He pivoted to face him, arms folded. “Because that’s always how others have referred to the Fox,” he said through gritted teeth.
“But he was never more than a shadow,” Barber said. “An outline slipping from a window in the night. No one ever saw him…or her…clearly enough to name their sex with certainty.”
“And I suppose because many of the victims would not believe a lady capable of such a crime,” Derrick added reluctantly. “They see women as fitting into a certain category. Helpless victim, not clever thief.”
“That would give a woman far more freedom, wouldn’t it?” Barber pressed. He dug around in the papers on his desk and came up with one. “Here it is, the descriptions given by those who got a glimpse. Shall I read them?”
“No,” Derrick whispered.
Barber ignored him. “‘Slim.’ And here’s another: ‘Moving with an unexpected grace.’” He glanced up at Derrick. “And this one is perfect. ‘Quick as a fox.’” He set the papers down. “I could go on and on. Perhaps we’ve thought of this wrongly, to the benefit of our quarry.”
Derrick fisted his hands at his sides. “So you are determined that the Fox is a woman now.”
“And you are desperate for her not to be,” Barber said.
“I’m desperate not to falsely accuse someone,” Derrick said, throwing his hands up. “Selina is not the Fox.”
Those words felt weak coming from his lips. They tasted bitter and false.
“Because you don’t want her to be,” Barber said softly, almost gently.
“Because she isn’t,” he insisted, even though it only served to dig a deeper hole in the sand for the water to fill. He was already up to his neck.
Barber moved toward him and caught his arm, holding tight as he looked up into Derrick’s face. Barber’s eyes were kind, but they offered no escape. “Do you really believe that?”
Derrick shook away. “I was not truthful with you, I admit that. And perhaps I let my feelings…my attraction…interfere in my investigation. That was wrong. All those things were wrong, and I admit that. But you won’t accuse me of protecting a criminal. I-I wouldn’t.”
He pivoted on his heel and left the room before Barber could respond. But just because he’d ended the discussion didn’t mean that it didn’t hang in his mind, his doubts and Barber’s doubts merging and taunting him. Like poisonous eggs laid and now hatching, spreading the venom through every part of him. Threatening a future he’d never dared to hope he could have.
A future he could see fading away with every step he took.
Selina burst into her chamber and slammed the door behind her. “Vale!” she called out into the empty room as she crossed to the connected door. “Vale, where are you?”
As she reached the door it opened and she staggered back as Vale entered the bedchamber. “You needn’t call the house down. I’m here.”
“Why was my glove in Lady Winford’s chamber?” Selina asked. It was blunt, but she had no emotional energy for anything else.
Both of Vale’s eyebrows lifted in surprise and she shook her head. “What are you going on about?”
She strolled past Selina into the main chamber and settled onto the settee before the fire. Selina pursed her lips at seeing her there, where she and Derrick had made love such a short time before. That was a sacred place, and Vale was lounged across it like it was nothing.
Selina hated being irritated at her friend. She hated doubting her when Vale had always been loyal.
She shut her eyes and drew a long breath to calm herself and then forced herself to explain better. “One of the gloves I was wearing last night was found by a servant in Lady Winford’s room. It was ultimately turned over to Derrick. How did it get there?”
One of Vale’s hands clenched and her gaze narrowed. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten as you traipsed around here all lady of the manor, but I’m not your actual servant,Selina. It’s not my bloody role to keep track of your things, no matter how we’ve asked the world to see me.”
“But—”
Vale interrupted her. “Perhaps you’re just getting careless in your distracted state and left them there while you were fruitlessly searching the room.”
“No,” Selina insisted. “No, that’s not it. I had the gloves on when I came back here last night. I was wearing them.”
Vale pushed to her feet. “How do you know?”
“Because—” Selina felt blood rush to her cheeks as she recalled Derrick peeling each glove off, his mouth on her palm, on her wrist. She blinked away the images and the emotions they forced in her. “I justknow. And I never returned to Lady Winford’s room afterward. I cannot think of many ways they could have been transferred to that chamber.”
“Wait,” Vale said, stepping closer. She folded her arms and there was a spark of deep anger…rage…in her eyes. “Are you asking me oraccusingme of something after all we’ve been through together?”
