“Do you always blame your actions on others?”
Felicity’s mouth dropped again, but this time from a different kind of shock. “I beg your pardon?”
“You just said that you behaved poorly because your acquaintance brings out the worst in you.” He leaned toward her, and Marietta saw her cheeks redden, both from his proximity and words. “Hardly taking responsibility for your own actions, are you, miss? It sounds to me like perhaps you just behave badly in general, and then make excuses for it.”
“I do not behave badly! I am a high ranking member of society, sir.” She smoothed her hands along her skirt and looked up with a new smile. “I assure you my manners are perfectly acceptable.”
“To whom?”
Her smile dropped and her eyes widened. “Miss Winters, cousin, if you’d be so kind as to introduce us?” She’d never seen Felicity so flustered.
Marietta shrugged. “I can’t help you there, Miss Tercake. I don’t know him.”
“Weren’t you walking with a man?” She looked Gabriel over. “Oh. Must have been a different man.”
“Are you calling her a whore again? Are you sure you are a lady?”
“My father’s Baron Kilden!”
“I’m not familiar with the name. Foreign?”
“Irish!”
Gabriel rocked back on his heels, saying nothing.
“Why am I bothering to talk to you! You are nothing.” She seemed to have gotten past his face and looked at his clothes, his longshoreman apparel. Unfortunately, her cheeks were still bright and she’d made a fool of herself over him already. “And you.” She pointed at Marietta. “Don’t show your face at our door asking for help.”
She marched away. Gabriel watched her go. Marietta watched Gabriel.
“I see why you would have picked a stranger to help you first.” He looked back to her, his eyes unreadable. “Come. Let’s go home.”
Chapter 14
She flipped through theTimesagain. There were plenty of articles and opinions on the Winters brothers working together on their murder spree. Mostly ugly ones like Felicity had crowed about, but a few articles were creeping in, scattered throughout, proclaiming doubt in their culpability. Describing a few instances where they were at a party or another function and couldn’t have been off murdering women. Nathaniel Upholt was the journalist responsible for writing most of the positive ones.
In the end, it would all come down to the sway of the tide. And there were only a few more days until the trial would begin. Not much time.
Marietta sneaked a look around the kitchen to make sure Gabriel hadn’t popped in, silent as usual. She’d heard cats that were louder when they pawed across a floor. She pulled the journal from beneath a pile of the papers. She had fetched it from his room again. This time from behind the door. She’d almost missed it after a thorough search. Clever man.
L.D.’s husband returns tonight, and with him his personal servants and guard. L.D. says we need to reinstill the need for total silence in our little avenger. This is a dangerous night. One wrong word and our house of cards may fall. But not without the ruin of our little avenger’s family. Total ruin and persecution, what music to my ears.
If I weren’t so smitten by our little avenger, I might try it just to see the pain in his gorgeous eyes. I so enjoy watching others fall. It reminds me of what my mother used to always tell me—that others are born to serve our whims. That we are born to make, use, and cut the strings of all. That the chessboard moves when no one notices.
Marietta twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she continued to read. It was all so deliciously awful. That these were the actual thoughts of someone.
The back door opened. She swung forward in her seat and spilled her cup of water over the right end of the table. She hastily shoved the book beneath a pile of papers and looked forward, mimicking the most innocent look she could dredge up.
“Marietta, you look as if you have been caught with your fingers in the cook’s pie.”
Relief sunk her elbows onto the table. “Oh, thank goodness. Jeremy, what are you doing here?”
“Dropped by to see how my favorite brother and my favorite client of his are doing.” He smiled winningly and sat across from her.
She arched a brow. “I’m sure. He is your only brother, is he not?”
He threw his head to the side, his smile growing. “Small quibbles, small quibbles.”
Marietta drew the newspaper back. She desperately wanted to keep reading the journal. The only times she was able to were when Gabriel was out of the house, and this time he’d only stepped out for a moment. He would always invariably find the journal—how, she didn’t know—and hide it once more. She was surprised he hadn’t burned it, but he seemed to take perverse pleasure in hiding it from her.
