“Can you be that certain?” he asked hollowly. “Others weren’t. Good men I’d served beside for years suddenly could not look me in the eyes.”
“Then they did not know you as I do, Kincaid.” She sprang off the bed and was beside him in an instant, her hand on his thigh, her gaze imploring him to believe and trust in what she was saying. Even though now she finally understood why trusting was difficult for him. “What Lady Townsend did was wicked and cruel. Not only to you, but toallwomen who have the courage to bring their abuse to light only to find themselves doubted and disbelieved.”
He clenched his jaw. “I never should have become romantically involved with a client’s wife. That blame is mine, and mine alone.”
“No, you probably shouldn’t have,” Joanna agreed, ignoring the twinge of jealousy she felt at the idea of Kincaid with someone else. Of him caring for someone else. Of himlovingsomeone else, when he refused to love her. “But if there is blame to be had, this Lady Townsend owns her fair share of it.”
“Lord Townsend agreed to withdraw the charges if I left Scotland Yard. My captain requested my resignation that day, and I gave it.”
Joanna’s lips parted in protest. “But if you were innocent—”
“A trial would have resulted in a scandal, no matter the outcome. A scandal which would have eroded the public’s faith in the peelers. It was the right decision.”
“So that’s why you became a private investigator.”
He gave a brusque nod.
“Did you…did you ever see Lady Townsend again?”
Beneath her hand, his leg stiffened. “Shortly after I opened my new business, she arrived unannounced. Even after everything had happened…I still asked if she was all right. If she needed anything. If her husband was treating her well.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “What a bloody fool I was.”
“What did she say?”
His mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “She said that Lord Townsend never raised his hand to her. She said he was busy with his mistress, and she was bored, and she’d always wondered what it would be like to have an affair with a commoner.”
Joanna’s breath expelled in a shocked gasp that rocked her back onto her heels. Thenerveof that woman! To nearly ruin a life because she was tired of her dull, perfect life and seeking entertainment. Had she any comprehension of what she had done to Kincaid? Of the hurt she’d caused? The hurt shecontinuedto cause? For it was clear that even though years had passed, Kincaid was still affected by what had happened. And why wouldn’t he be?
He had loved Lady Townsend. Joanna heard it in his voice. Saw in his eyes. Felt it in the unconscious clench of his muscles whenever he spoke her name. He had loved her, and she had betrayed him. In one of the worst ways a womancouldbetray a man. Not out of desperation. Not out of necessity. But because she wasbored.
It was almost beyond belief.
“I am sorry, Kincaid. I am terribly, terribly sorry. I had no idea.” Sliding her hand to his knee, Joanna shifted her weight until she was crouched directly in front of him. His head was down. His arms were limp at his sides. He appeared defeated. And she hated, shehatedto see him this way.
Which was why she did somethingsheprobably shouldn’t have.
She stood up and stepped between Kincaid’s thighs. He lifted his head, his eyes dark and wary. But he did not say anything, and neither did Joanna. The only sound in the room was their ragged breathing as she slid her arms around his neck. She wet her lips. Swallowed once, twice, and her heart pitched inside of her chest.
And then she kissed him.
Chapter Sixteen
During his firstyear at Scotland Yard, Kincaid had been ordered to investigate an abandoned factory in the middle of the night. Although the factory, once home to the largest manufacturing company in London, had been shut down for nearly half a decade, the owner continued to store large pieces of expensive equipment inside the crumbling brick building, and he was worried about trespassers after he’d passed by and seen a flicker of candlelight from within.
Kincaid was on the third floor when a storm rolled in over the Thames, bringing with it a wall of thick, eerie, gray fog that spilled through the broken windows and pooled on the floor like dragon’s breath.
He’d begun to make his way back down the rickety staircase when he heard it. The unmistakable creak of a board, followed by the scrape of something heavy being dragged across the floor directly below him.
Withdrawing his pistol from the folds of his greatcoat, he had descended the stairs as silently as a cat, every muscle in his body poised to strike. Except it was as black as pitch inside the factory, and with the bloody fog on top of it he did not see the man behind him until it was too late.
The pistol went flying when he was tackled to the ground. Grunting, cursing, he grappled with his attacker, managing to land as many blows as he received despite his unfamiliarity with his surroundings and the damned faceless bastard outweighing him by at least two stone.
A blow to his jaw sent him reeling. As blood filled his mouth, he reached for the knife he always kept tucked in his boot. As he grasped the hilt, lightning exploded across the sky.
The massive bolt lit up the factory, allowing Kincaid to see the second assailant charging towards him with a metal pipe clenched between his meaty fists. Kincaid ducked, then spun around and slid his knife between the man’s ribs. The pipe fell with a clatter, and both of the brutes scurried off into the darkness like rats into the sewer.
Breathing heavily, Kincaid bent forward, his hands on his knees and his head hanging limply as his heartbeat gradually slowed. He spat out a mouthful of blood, then staggered to the nearest wall and leaned against it as a boom of thunder shook the factory.
If not for the lightning, he would have been dead with his head bashed open. That violent surge of electricity had saved him. More than that, it had changed him. In those few precious moments between the blinding white flash and driving his blade into flesh, he had been faced with his own mortality. His triumphs and his failures. All he had accomplished…and everything he had yet to do.
