fool…”
“Do you know how many young women I have seduced because they found me dangerous and different?” I asked gently.
“A fair number, I would imagine,” she snorted sadly. “More than the number of men you have killed?”
“Far more,” I grinned.
“Now I am confused.” She smiled. “I know not whether to feel less alone or less unique in my fascination.”
“Why do you think I was attracted to him?”
She chuckled, and then sobered to touch my arm. “Oh, Marsdale, he has said such awful things about you. I was heart-set on you as a villain. Yet when you spoke this morning, it was as if your words lit a lamp; and I saw so many things I had hoped would stay hidden in the corners because I did not wish to see them.” She took a deep breath. “I think he killed a young boy in the village.”
I regarded her sharply. “One that will not be missed, I assume.”
She nodded sadly. “All called the fellow a sodomite. I saw Shane with him once. Shane struck him upon seeing me, though they had not seemed to be engaged in a dispute prior to that; quite the opposite. Then he told me the boy had made advances to him. I had, of course, been appalled, and decided what I had seen had been a misunderstanding on my part.
“Some time after that, I made some comment to Shane about being careful when entering the village, lest he be stalked like a buck. It was just a jest. Yet Shane replied quite seriously that he had seen to that matter. Later I learned the boy had been missing for some time. Many thought he had run off to London, but then they found a body with his clothes in the creek the next spring. Many said it was a good riddance, and nothing was made of it.”
I sighed sadly. I was not at all surprised. “Justice is only served if you have money or status. I have never known or heard of any place that was not that way. And even then, one can find one’s hands tied.”
“I do not wish him dead,” she implored.
“It is not in my best interests to seek his death,” I said with equal solemnity. “Be that as it may, I am concerned for your well-being in light of what I am interpreting as a profound change of heart on your part, which I have been a willing participant in.”
She nodded sadly. “He will be quite put out.”
“Do you have a… relationship, with our father? Can you speak to him of this?”
“Aye.”
“Then I suggest you do so.”
“Have you ever told him… anything?” she asked.
“Nay.”
She frowned. “Then do I have your permission to…?”
“Aye, tell him anything you feel the need to.”
Her embrace was unexpected, but I felt relief in her arms. Once she was gone, I indulged myself in tears and the rest of the bottle. Despite the chair, I slept more soundly than I had since that first night at my uncle’s.
I was awakened by another knock on my door. This time, light greeted my opening eyes. I called out an inquiry without rising. The room seemed very cold, and I did not wish to emerge from the blanket.
I had not barred the door, and if it was Sarah or the maid I intended to tell them to enter. It was my father’s manservant. My father wished to see me.
“It is Christmas morning,” I said. This meant nothing to the insistent man.
I dragged myself out of the chair and drew on my coat. I was exceedingly disheveled as I followed the man to the study. My father was in a robe, and pacing. I crossed the room to warm myself at the roaring fire. I decided the light seeping through my drapes had been something of a lie. The sun had not broken the horizon yet.
“You wished to speak with me?” I asked after his man had withdrawn.
“I have been speaking with your sister.” His eyes were dark with emotion.
I raised a brow. She had made fast work of that.
“She apparently does not indulge herself in stewing upon matters,” I remarked.
He smiled. “Nay, she does not.” Then the smile was gone and his eyes held mine. “Do you blame him?”
“For a great many
“Do you know how many young women I have seduced because they found me dangerous and different?” I asked gently.
“A fair number, I would imagine,” she snorted sadly. “More than the number of men you have killed?”
“Far more,” I grinned.
“Now I am confused.” She smiled. “I know not whether to feel less alone or less unique in my fascination.”
“Why do you think I was attracted to him?”
She chuckled, and then sobered to touch my arm. “Oh, Marsdale, he has said such awful things about you. I was heart-set on you as a villain. Yet when you spoke this morning, it was as if your words lit a lamp; and I saw so many things I had hoped would stay hidden in the corners because I did not wish to see them.” She took a deep breath. “I think he killed a young boy in the village.”
I regarded her sharply. “One that will not be missed, I assume.”
She nodded sadly. “All called the fellow a sodomite. I saw Shane with him once. Shane struck him upon seeing me, though they had not seemed to be engaged in a dispute prior to that; quite the opposite. Then he told me the boy had made advances to him. I had, of course, been appalled, and decided what I had seen had been a misunderstanding on my part.
“Some time after that, I made some comment to Shane about being careful when entering the village, lest he be stalked like a buck. It was just a jest. Yet Shane replied quite seriously that he had seen to that matter. Later I learned the boy had been missing for some time. Many thought he had run off to London, but then they found a body with his clothes in the creek the next spring. Many said it was a good riddance, and nothing was made of it.”
I sighed sadly. I was not at all surprised. “Justice is only served if you have money or status. I have never known or heard of any place that was not that way. And even then, one can find one’s hands tied.”
“I do not wish him dead,” she implored.
“It is not in my best interests to seek his death,” I said with equal solemnity. “Be that as it may, I am concerned for your well-being in light of what I am interpreting as a profound change of heart on your part, which I have been a willing participant in.”
She nodded sadly. “He will be quite put out.”
“Do you have a… relationship, with our father? Can you speak to him of this?”
“Aye.”
“Then I suggest you do so.”
“Have you ever told him… anything?” she asked.
“Nay.”
She frowned. “Then do I have your permission to…?”
“Aye, tell him anything you feel the need to.”
Her embrace was unexpected, but I felt relief in her arms. Once she was gone, I indulged myself in tears and the rest of the bottle. Despite the chair, I slept more soundly than I had since that first night at my uncle’s.
I was awakened by another knock on my door. This time, light greeted my opening eyes. I called out an inquiry without rising. The room seemed very cold, and I did not wish to emerge from the blanket.
I had not barred the door, and if it was Sarah or the maid I intended to tell them to enter. It was my father’s manservant. My father wished to see me.
“It is Christmas morning,” I said. This meant nothing to the insistent man.
I dragged myself out of the chair and drew on my coat. I was exceedingly disheveled as I followed the man to the study. My father was in a robe, and pacing. I crossed the room to warm myself at the roaring fire. I decided the light seeping through my drapes had been something of a lie. The sun had not broken the horizon yet.
“You wished to speak with me?” I asked after his man had withdrawn.
“I have been speaking with your sister.” His eyes were dark with emotion.
I raised a brow. She had made fast work of that.
“She apparently does not indulge herself in stewing upon matters,” I remarked.
He smiled. “Nay, she does not.” Then the smile was gone and his eyes held mine. “Do you blame him?”
“For a great many
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