To his surprise, her face crumpled. “I-I was the reason you were scarred.”
“It was my distraction and my fault,” he said. “And I rather like the scar. As you said, it’s become one of my distinguishing characteristics.”
She bent her head and focused on her food. She picked up her fork, but she only traced it over the fish and potatoes she’d been so excited to try only a few moments before. “Ripley,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “This can’t be a surprise, Jane. We don’t come from worlds where we mince our words, do we? It was obvious from the start that we were attracted to each other. You wanted me and I wanted you. There’s no shame in that.”
“Perhaps not,” she said. “But you are respectable now. You own a thriving club that men of power and rank trip over their own feet to join because it’s as important as their membership at White’s or the Donville Masquerade. You’ve built yourself a life. And I’m…I’m still…me.”
He hated how she diminished herself. She was as scarred as he was, just inside. “Don’t elevate me. We both made our living on our backs.”
“It isn’t the same. You know it. A boxer could be respected, as you were when you fought and are now.” She shook her head. “The woman you saw in my shop, the viscountess who called me out for what I was, she was only the first. She won’t be the last. I scarred you once, but I care too much to scar you again.”
He caught his breath. “Jane?—”
“Don’t,” she whispered, and tears sparkled in her eyes. She blinked at them, pushing them away just as he knew she’d been pushing them away all her life. “We’ll go to Copperworth. We’ll find my sister and then…then I think we need to stay away from each other.”
Ripley had experienced pain in his life. Broken bones, deep bruises. Once an opponent had tried to stab his heart and Ripley had caught the blade in his hand, slashing his palm deeply. But none of that hurt as much as Jane’s words, at the idea that she’d rather run from the connection that was so plain than risk what it could change.
But he’d always known that was the potential price of finally giving in to what he wanted. She would push if he pulled, just as she had any other time they’d even come close to this. She would run. Her life would make any other reaction difficult for her. And he’d have to honor her request. Honor her rejection even if it destroyed some vital part of him.
She shook her head at his silence. “I’m poison, Ripley.”
He wanted to scream at those words, but instead he took her hand. “I don’t think that’s your voice saying that.”
She sucked in a harsh breath. “I assume you mean it’s my mother. She’d know best, wouldn’t she? I’m just like her.” Before he could argue, she tugged her hand from his and stood. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go up, take that bath you’ve so kindly arranged. We’ve a long day tomorrow.”
If pulling away was in her nature, to fight was in his. He wanted to rise with her, argue with her in the middle of the dining hall, kiss her until she couldn’t pretend that this thing between them was anything but good.
And yet he did none of that. If he loved her, which he did, he needed to be more careful than a bull rushing through glass without thought. He’d learned to be strategic as a fighter. He would be strategic in this, as well.
“I understand,” he said softly.
She seemed surprised he would respect her request, but she nodded and then slipped away through the room. He watched her every step, his heart breaking. And he had no idea what to do next to prevent her from walking away from him for good.
Jane sat in the warm, fragrant waters of the tub, staring up at the ceiling. The sensations were lovely, but she couldn’t relax. Not when Ripley’s words echoed in her head. How he was hers since the first moment he’d seen her. How he was marked by her. He didn’t seem to care that the mark was in the form of a scar caused by injury. A permanent reminder of the damage she could cause.
She loved him. That had always been a fact she ignored, pushed away, pretended wasn’t real. Just as she’d pretended she didn’t know he loved her in return. Now it was impossible to ignore those facts. They were too close to turn away from. And they were problems she had to deal with because knowing they loved each other didn’t change what she’d said to him at supper. Everyone she’d ever loved, she’d hurt. Everyone who’d ever loved her had come to despise her.
She couldn’t bear it if he joined that small, terrible club.
“I’ll leave London.” She started because she hadn’t meant to say those words out loud. But they gave her strength and she sat up a bit straighter. “I’ll take Nora, because we must find Nora, and go to the country. I’ll start over. It will be better for Esme so she won’t try to continue being a friend to someone so far from herself. It will be better for Nora so she can be away from whatever happened to her. It will be better for…for Ripley.”
Hearing the words out loud, the falter in her voice when she said the last sentence, it made her sick. But it was right. She was right.
She heard the door open behind the privacy screen that protected the bath from the larger room and stiffened.
“It’s me,” Ripley said, his voice soft.
She heard him shift, heard the door close. His footfalls came across the room, certain and unwavering. She could see him move in her mind, an easy image after years of observation.
But he didn’t come around to look at her. Instead she heard him doing something in the larger room.
She cleared her throat. “It was kind to call out that it was you.”
“Well, I’d never want to frighten you.” There was a slight hesitation and then he added, “Or hurt you.”
She sighed. “I know. It’s the same for me.”
