“But his lordship is correct onbothcounts,” Miss Moore added defiantly, putting her hands on her hips. “I will say Thomas was with me nonetheless.”
Owen swore again. “You would protect my sister’s murderer with a lie?”
“I would protect the man I love, who I know isnota murderer.”
“As would I,” Adelia murmured.
Owen roared with fury. Adelia approached him, uncowed by his anger. “It is you who must leave, Lord Burnley. I will make my way home perfectly safely without your interference.”
Unexpectedly, he reached out and took hold of her upper arm. With their gazes locked, she could not imagine his intent as he slowly, calmly drew her closer. Lowering his head, he whispered something into her deaf ear.
Shaking her head, she started to turn the other way, when Miss Moore spoke up.
“Lady Adelia cannot hear you on that side.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shocked that thiswoman knew something so personal about her, Adelia froze, staring up at Owen. At the same time, she felt his grip tighten.
“Why?” he asked, his face the very picture of concern. And pity, which she abhorred.
She pressed her lips together and heard Miss Moore’s response from behind her.
“Because her father was a brute, just like you!”
Owen’s gaze locked with Adelia’s again before she glanced at his hand on her arm. He released her instantly.
“I assure you what I said in your ear was not brutish in any way,” he protested, but he did not repeat it. “How did…that is…?”
Staring at the floor, wishing she were home, Adelia said, “My father liked to punctuate his anger by a solid cuff to one’s head. There is nothing more to be said. He is dead, and I am not in any way bothered by my affliction, except when people point it out.” She glanced at Miss Moore, who blushed. “Or when someone feels sorry for me,” she added, turning away from Owen, who had looked as though he was going to say something of the sort.
“Back to the matter at hand,” Adelia continued, speaking to Miss Moore. “If you do not recall—and why would you recall an ordinary Friday—perhaps, if you and Thomas went somewhere, others might remember the two of you. You were at a play once. That was on a different night. I saw you there.”
She looked at Owen again.On a wonderful night with Owen when he kissed her, awakening every sensual particle in her body. “Maybe you have a pamphlet or a theatre ticket from the night in question.”
Miss Moore shook her head. “That play was the only time we ventured to a public place outside of the East End. Thomas thought it too risky, more so after you saw us. Usually, we eat at a local pub, or we…we stay here.” She blushed again at the implication of hours spent in the privacy of her flat.
With each word, however, Adelia’s hopes fell. Miss Moore could lie for Thomas, but without someone to back up her statements, no magistrate would believe her.
“I saw the two of you another time,” Owen’s surprising words cut through the silence.
“I remember,” Miss Moore said. “We left as soon as Thomas saw you.”
“Another man followed you out the door that night,” Owen said.
She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“He stood up not long after you left, and he went out through the same door into the back.”
“I cannot think who that could be,” Miss Moore said, then stifled a yawn.
“I am sorry,” Adelia said. “Undoubtedly, you have had a long day at work, and now I have stopped you from enjoying your supper.”
“I haven’t enjoyed anything since Thomas disappeared. Now that I know he is in jail, there isn’t anything that can bring me happiness nor peace of mind.” The young woman glared at Owen, who shifted from one foot to the next but said nothing.
Five minutes later, Adelia was back on the street. Her driver appeared to be on edge with an iron bar clasped in his hand, standing alert by the side of the carriage until he saw his mistress approaching on Owen’s arm.
“You have to stop twice, at this hour, to reclaim your servants?” The viscount’s tone was irritated and scolding.
