“Because being a widow gave me more freedom. I had no parents or family to be my guardians. I had clawed my way out of that hellhole—” She cut off, her throat growing thick. “Mrs. Garvey was an angel from heaven itself.” The flames held Honora mesmerized as her memory played before her mind’s eye. How scared she had been that the woman would turn her in. “Once my father passed away, my mother already having done so when I was only three years old, I did what I could to survive.”
He was silent but nodded her on.
She lifted her gaze to him, appreciating even that small bit of support. “Then one day, I wandered into a neighborhood above my means. My intentions were dark, hoping to . . . pilfer from one of the wealthier families.”
His gaze was direct, but she couldn’t keep it. She returned it instead to the flames. “I was caught. And instead of turning me in to the authorities, the lady took me in herself. She taught me all the manners I have.” She took a breath and turned her head back to him. “Mrs. Garvey was a widow. One who had loved her husband so much that she refused to move on and marry again. She had funds of her own and spent her days as she pleased. She was my role model in every way. Respectable. Intelligent. Financially sound. I wanted to be just like her. And she taught me to be the woman I am today.”
“Thieving included?”
Honora paused. “No.” With a sad shake of her head, she pressed on. “She died five years after taking me in.” Now Honora was alone once more. Perhaps that was her fate in life.
She pushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “She and Mrs. Hind were my only real friends in this new world of mine. And now I will lose her friendship as well.”
“Mrs. Hind?” Leonard asked, his voice confused. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head with a humorless smile. “That’s what all of this mess comes down to. Mrs. Hind was my friend, and of course, I could not even have that simple pleasure.” Her mouth formed a flat line on her face. “Mr. Hind made me an offer one day as I was about to leave their home. He asked if I would . . .” Her words trailed off. “He knew my past—had dug around. That’s what he does. He blackmails people. Everyone has something to hide.” Her heartbeat suddenly spiked, and her heart did a strange twirl in her chest. “So he had a proposition for me. He offered me the opal necklace and said I could behisfriend as well. Dirty lout thought he could use my childhood of thieving against me to get what he wanted.” Honora lifted her gaze to Leonard, whose face was unreadable in the dim light. “I turned him down,” she finally said. “And on my way out, I took the necklace.”
After a few beats of silence, Leonard asked, “Why did you take it?”
“Because I did not want his wife to find it and figure it out. I wanted to keep my friend.”
“And then he ordered you to give it back.”
She slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“And you went to Pratt tonight. Did he have it?”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she did her best to blink them away. “No. He didn’t. It’s gone. I have nothing to give Hind. Which means his wife will not only find out about my past, but he will concoct some lie that I had tried to seduce him. And why would she believe me?” A tear slipped down her cheek, but she lifted her hand and swiped it away.
When she wiped the tear, she winced at the pressure on her tender cheek where Pratt had slapped her.
Suddenly, she felt strangely confined and short of breath. Her hairpins were too tight, the collar on her pelisse now suffocating. Honora pulled a pin out of her hair, then another, leaving two pathetic strands of hair hanging. Then she began unbuttoning her pelisse, her hands shaking and frantic. She had to get out of it. She couldn’t breathe—the room was stifling.
“Why did Wilson light a fire,” she said, her hands fumbling over her clasps. “It is blazing in here.” Perspiration grew on her brow, and she swiped a hand over it while the other tried valiantly to finish its task.
Leonard stood from his seat, striding over to her and kneeling on the floor. “Let me help,” he said, his words quiet.
“I don’t need—”
“I know,” he said, nodding as his hands reached toward her. “You don’t need it.”
She sat mesmerized as he began helping her. His hands were so gentle, the care he was taking evident. After freeing a few toggles, his hand went to her arm, squeezing it for a second before going back to his job. She didn’t assist him. She couldn’t. Instead, she sat there, watching his careful ministrations as her breathing, while still erratic, slowly settled, and errant tears streaked down her face.
“There.” With the toggles all undone, he pulled on the arm of her pelisse, slipping one arm out, and then the other. He remained crouched in front of her, his brown eyes soft and assessing, as if she were so fragile she might break.
But she was not fragile. A person on their own couldn’t be.
And then he did something completely unexpected. He sat up on his knees, leaned forward, reached his arms about her, and pulled her close.
She was wrapped in a sudden warmth, his grip firm yet gentle. His body felt strong, as if it could hold her through anything. His nose pressed into her hair as he breathed in. And the comfort undid her completely. He smelled of shaving soap and smoke from the fire, and she found herself burying her face in the crook of his neck as sobs wracked her body. First one. Then another. Until she could not stop them all, and gave in.
“Shhhhh,” he hushed into her ear, holding her tighter. As she cried, not knowing how to stop, he plucked the remaining pins from her hair with one hand as the other kept her cradled to him. “It’s all right,” he said, his words hushed. “You aren’t alone.”
It wasn’t some feminine cry at a sad scene in a play. No. These were gut-wrenching sobs from years of trying to survive in this cruel world. After hiding it within her smiles for so long, the dam had broken. She feared the tears would never stop.
But they did. After what seemed an eternity, her tears ran dry. She lifted her head, still slightly hiccupping from her crying, and Leonard used his hand to wipe her cheek. She closed her eyes at the warm touch, leaning her head into it until he pulled it back to himself.
“For someone who told me it was human to be vulnerable, you certainly kept a lot from me.”
