After hastily putting his shirt and jacket on, he followed her to the parlour, patting his throbbing wound. She moved a mirror aside, revealing a safe in the wall, just as Havisham had said.
Angeline turned the handle right and left a few times and opened the safe.
He peered from over her shoulder. There were stacks of banknotes, a pearl necklace, and other pieces of jewellery, but no papers. No documents at all. Angeline shuffled the boxes and velvet pouches around. Nothing.
“See? I seriously doubt she exploits women.” She shut the door. “I might be naïve. I didn’t realise my mother was the mistress of many gentlemen for years, but I’m absolutely sure she would never stoop as low as taking advantage of fallen women.”
He scratched his chin. The fact the list wasn’t there didn’t mean Mrs. Haywood was innocent. “What about Mrs. Walsh? She’s an honest woman who cares about fallen women.”
She shrugged. “I have no explanation for that. Also, maybe the earl genuinely believes Mama has that list.”
Possible, but unlikely. “Something is going on. Tonight was a trap. He sent me here on a wild goose chase to get me arrested.”
“But why? Isn’t he helping you get a seat in Parliament?”
“Yes. I don’t understand.” A new wave of worry washed over him. “Unless Havisham was never going to get me any seat.”
Her black eyes became two midnight pools. “I think you could be right. He used your compassion for fallen women as leverage. He built a cock-and-bull story about my motherexploiting fallen women, and you fell for it. Then he warned the police with the hope they’d arrest you.”
Possible. Or perhaps Angeline just refused to see her mother for who she really was. Havisham had told him Mrs. Haywood was conniving and clever. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d warned the police that night, knowing he would come. Perhaps she’d orchestrated the whole thing.
Her expression softened. “You care about those women, don’t you?”
“I do.”
She gave him a few shy glances. “What happened to your mother was a shock.”
“I don’t usually talk about her.”
She closed a gentle hand around his, sending a jolt of sensations through his body. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
“Despite my breaking and entering into your house?”
“Yes, even though you used me to get the documents. I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive you for that yet.”
He gripped her hand. “I would never, ever use you. You must believe me. The moments we shared were only ours. They’re genuine.”
She furrowed her brow.
“I can prove it,” he said, inching closer to her.
“How?”
“From the moment you kissed me, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He took her hand and placed it right over his heart. Her soft palm warmed his skin. “I want to kiss you right now. I always want to kiss you. I know I didn’t behave like a gentleman to you and that I made mistakes, but do not doubt, not for a moment, how much I want you.”
Her eyes widened. “Your heart is beating faster.”
“I’m not lying. That’s the truth.” He took a deep breath. “You want to know what happened to my mother?”
“Yes.”
“The night my mother was murdered…” A familiar choking sensation crawled into his throat. “I’ve never talked about that night with anyone.”
“Take your time.” Too much honesty and compassion shone in her eyes.
He sucked in a few deep breaths. “There was this jockey who was particularly violent. My mother had been poorly for a while, complaining about chest pain.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “One night, he forced my mother to dance. When she stopped, he’d use a whip to make her start again, until she collapsed on the floor and didn’t move.”
“Oh, Royston.” Her voice cracked.
