ribbons and the mad utterances of a rat-catcher.”
Before she could say anything else, he turned and started for the coach.
With a sigh, Deirdre signaled to Cullen and followed. It would most likely be in her best interest if she let the subject of the late countess drop. The last thing she wanted was to remind him she’d been there that fateful day. He was right, after all. They needed to concentrate on Emily. But his anguish had tugged at her heart, making her wish there was some way she could soothe his hurt.
Once again settling herself inside the carriage, her gaze strayed to Tristan’s chiseled profile as he stared out the window, his expression inscrutable. Obviously, his mother’s death still tormented him, and Deirdre couldn’t blame him, not after losing her in such a horrible way. Perhaps that was why he’d come back into her life after all these years. If she could somehow aid him in coming to terms with the past, maybe she could finally bring an end to the nightmares that still plagued her.
As the coach rocked into motion, she leaned forward in her seat, searching for the right words to penetrate his icy impassivity.
“I am aware, my lord,” she began tentatively, “that there are truly evil people who reside here in Tothill Fields, capable of some unspeakable things. But you must realize there are bad people in your—our world, as well.”
He glanced at her, his violet eyes glittering. “I believe I told you I don’t wish to discuss this.”
“Well, pardon me for overstepping my bounds, my lord, but perhaps you should. These are the people you’re going to have to deal with in order to find your sister, and if you desire their cooperation, you can’t afford to allow an incident from the past to affect how you treat them now.”
He said nothing, merely returning his gaze to the window. But Deirdre wasn’t about to be brushed aside.
Reaching out, she laid a hand on his muscular forearm, deliberately ignoring the small frisson of awareness that skittered across her nerve endings at the contact. “Tristan, these people struggle every day just to survive, and they are as deserving of our respect as anyone else. Maybe even more so.”
“Now you sound like her.”
His words startled her, and it took a moment before his meaning registered. “Your mother?”
He gave a stiff nod and turned back to face Deirdre. “She was the kindest, most caring person I’ve ever known. My father and I never got along, but my mother …” He paused and his face softened. “I loved and admired her a great deal.”
“I can tell. It’s in your voice when you speak of her.”
He gazed off into space, looking suddenly very far away, as if he were lost in his memories of the past. “Aside from her family, the one thing closest to her heart was helping those in need. From the time I was a small boy, I can remember her making up baskets for the poor, calling on the sick and elderly. She’d even taken some of the poverty-stricken families here in Tothill Fields under her wing.” Grief, stark and unflinching, cast a shadow over his features. “That’s what she was doing on the day she was killed. Visiting one of her charges.”
Stunned, Deirdre let out a sharp exhalation of air. She’d often wondered what someone like Lady Ellington had been doing in the middle of a place like the Fields. That the countess had been one of the rare individuals who truly cared about the plight of those in the rookeries only added to Deirdre’s burden of guilt.
Tristan continued to speak, unaware of her reaction to his revelation. “My father was never happy about my mother’s chosen vocation, of course. It isn’t exactly the ‘done thing’ among society to have one’s wife slogging through the gutters of the city in order to aid the less fortunate, is it?” One corner of his mouth curled into a wry twist. “But it was important to her, so he let it go. Until the spring I turned nineteen.”
As if unaware of what
Before she could say anything else, he turned and started for the coach.
With a sigh, Deirdre signaled to Cullen and followed. It would most likely be in her best interest if she let the subject of the late countess drop. The last thing she wanted was to remind him she’d been there that fateful day. He was right, after all. They needed to concentrate on Emily. But his anguish had tugged at her heart, making her wish there was some way she could soothe his hurt.
Once again settling herself inside the carriage, her gaze strayed to Tristan’s chiseled profile as he stared out the window, his expression inscrutable. Obviously, his mother’s death still tormented him, and Deirdre couldn’t blame him, not after losing her in such a horrible way. Perhaps that was why he’d come back into her life after all these years. If she could somehow aid him in coming to terms with the past, maybe she could finally bring an end to the nightmares that still plagued her.
As the coach rocked into motion, she leaned forward in her seat, searching for the right words to penetrate his icy impassivity.
“I am aware, my lord,” she began tentatively, “that there are truly evil people who reside here in Tothill Fields, capable of some unspeakable things. But you must realize there are bad people in your—our world, as well.”
He glanced at her, his violet eyes glittering. “I believe I told you I don’t wish to discuss this.”
“Well, pardon me for overstepping my bounds, my lord, but perhaps you should. These are the people you’re going to have to deal with in order to find your sister, and if you desire their cooperation, you can’t afford to allow an incident from the past to affect how you treat them now.”
He said nothing, merely returning his gaze to the window. But Deirdre wasn’t about to be brushed aside.
Reaching out, she laid a hand on his muscular forearm, deliberately ignoring the small frisson of awareness that skittered across her nerve endings at the contact. “Tristan, these people struggle every day just to survive, and they are as deserving of our respect as anyone else. Maybe even more so.”
“Now you sound like her.”
His words startled her, and it took a moment before his meaning registered. “Your mother?”
He gave a stiff nod and turned back to face Deirdre. “She was the kindest, most caring person I’ve ever known. My father and I never got along, but my mother …” He paused and his face softened. “I loved and admired her a great deal.”
“I can tell. It’s in your voice when you speak of her.”
He gazed off into space, looking suddenly very far away, as if he were lost in his memories of the past. “Aside from her family, the one thing closest to her heart was helping those in need. From the time I was a small boy, I can remember her making up baskets for the poor, calling on the sick and elderly. She’d even taken some of the poverty-stricken families here in Tothill Fields under her wing.” Grief, stark and unflinching, cast a shadow over his features. “That’s what she was doing on the day she was killed. Visiting one of her charges.”
Stunned, Deirdre let out a sharp exhalation of air. She’d often wondered what someone like Lady Ellington had been doing in the middle of a place like the Fields. That the countess had been one of the rare individuals who truly cared about the plight of those in the rookeries only added to Deirdre’s burden of guilt.
Tristan continued to speak, unaware of her reaction to his revelation. “My father was never happy about my mother’s chosen vocation, of course. It isn’t exactly the ‘done thing’ among society to have one’s wife slogging through the gutters of the city in order to aid the less fortunate, is it?” One corner of his mouth curled into a wry twist. “But it was important to her, so he let it go. Until the spring I turned nineteen.”
As if unaware of what
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