Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
She awoke in the middle of the night, guilt clawing at her—scratching at her insides and swirling in her mind—making sleep an impossible task.
So she had spent the remainder of the night staring at her ceiling, stomach hardened and nauseated.
Finally, when the sun was high enough that dust particles danced in the light in her room, Marianne entered.
Her maid tiptoed across the floor as if to not awaken her, but Honora rolled her head toward her. “What is it, Marianne?”
The young girl squeaked, clutching a small square of paper to her chest. “Goodness, you startled me.”
“I apologize.” Pushing up in bed, Honora sat back against the pillows. “Now, what do you have in your hand?”
Marianne chewed her lip. “Another note.”
Honora closed her eyes, taking a soothing breath through her nose. The third one. Was he really so impatient? Or did he just enjoy watching her scramble under his demands? It was a sick game of cat and mouse, and this time, Honora was the mouse.
She opened her eyes and held a hand out. “Thank you, Marianne. You can send up some tea when you leave.”
Her maid bobbed a curtsy, her eyes trailing over Honora’s face before she turned and left the room.
Honora didn’t waste time opening the letter. The handwriting was dark. The quill used clearly pressed firmly into the page. Even the letters seemed angry, marching across the page with a harsh slant to them.
The gist of the letter was short. He wanted to meet Honora at ten this morning, while his wife would be visiting a friend.
Another friend. A friend who was not Honora.
And, Honora feared, Mrs. Hind might never be her friend again.
The injustice caused fury to light up her spine, but she was at his will.
And she was very much afraid that no matter where life took her, she would always be at someone’s will—never free of her past.
Under a fitting gray sky, Honora made her way up the front steps of Mr. Hind’s home. She squared her shoulders, trying to appear confident. Men like him seemed to love having people cower beneath them, so she would not give him the satisfaction.
A doorman greeted her, then ushered her upstairs and down a hall to where Hind’s study resided.
It was walled in a dark wood paneling, the floor covered in a deep red carpet, and an enormous desk sat in the center.
It was strange that he never seemed to use the desk for anything other than intimidating people.
All it contained was a small stack of books on one corner and a lamp on the other.
Instead of letting him get the first word, she didn’t waste any time. “A rather large desk to be used for merely reading novels.” Her lips curved into a smile.
Hind sat behind the desk, his hands folded neatly on top of it. His clothing was perfectly fitted, his hair slicked to the side and not a single one out of place, and his steely blue eyes glanced over her—assessing, ever vigilant. “I do my business here, Miss Gillingham.”
“Mrs.,” she corrected.
A sly smile slithered across his lips. “We both know that to be a lie.” His smile widened and he brought one arm up, propping his elbow on the desk. “Speaking of which. Have you found the necklace?”
Her teeth clenched. “No. Pratt double-crossed me.”
“That is the way of thieves, is it not? You should know.” He reached below his desk, then rummaged through a drawer and emerged with a small can. He removed a bit of snuff, tucked it into the hollow on his thumb, and quickly inhaled it. The act took no more than three seconds.
“I have told you I will pay you for the necklace.” Honora forced a lackadaisical air, then sauntered to a chair and relaxed into it, keeping her shoulders loose. People preyed upon fear or weakness, and she would not let her own show.
With a laugh, Hind shook his head. “You know I do not care about the money.”
“No. You only care about having control. Pray tell, does that have to do with a low sense of self-worth? Bringing others down so you can feel strong since you apparently have no true admirable qualities of your own?”
His fingers curled into a fist, one after the other, like a fan folding into itself. “I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you, Miss Gillingham. You know I have the winning hand in this game.”
Drat it all. He did. And she hated him for it.
“Counter to what you seem to think, I have no reputation to ruin,” she pointed out.
“I do not know what you believe you will earn through all this trouble.” Though she knew his pride was only wounded, and his true intent in all of this was revenge.
Even if she could get the necklace back, she doubted he would hold his tongue. But she had to at least try.
“My wife’s friendship is something I know you hold dear.”
She forced her muscles to remain relaxed, though she wanted to grip the arms of her chair in blind rage. “While Laura is a dear, and someone you do not deserve, I can find other friends.”
“Can you?” He leaned back in his seat, propping one foot across his knee. “Perhaps I shall just keep a tight eye on you then. I do feel it only fair to warn those you socialize with to know just who they are allowing into their home.”
“Believe it or not, I do not go around stealing from everyone.”
“No, just me and innocent bystanders.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “But let us not split hairs.”
“You know why I stole from you,” she said, keeping her voice smooth. “I did not like the offer you made.” The recollection of that night soured her stomach. Then she added in a small voice, “Nor did I wish for your wife to find the evidence.”
After Hind offered Honora the necklace and all that would come with accepting the gift, she had stolen it to keep it from her friend’s notice.
If she were to see the necklace, suspicions would be aroused.
And Honora really didn’t think Hind would go so far as to hold it over her head as blackmail. But she had been wrong.
“It was a simple offer,” Hind pressed on, not caring one whit about Laura or her feelings. “And one you should have taken me up on.”
“I fear I am not that desperate.” She gave him a pitying smile, causing his face to darken. “Besides. It was only an opal. Not really that tempting.”
He stood, placing his hands on top of the desk, his shoulders rigid. “You will find me that necklace, or everyone you speak to will know what you are and where you came from. Or,” he said, a bit of his ire fading, “you can take me up on my original offer.”
That was what he wanted at the end of the day—to have his way.
Standing from her chair, she mirrored his position, placing her fingertips on the desk. With every ounce of malice she could muster, she leaned forward. “I’d rather chew glass.”
His jaw hardened, but he kept his temper in check, sitting and picking up a book. “My wife will likely not be calling on you anytime soon. And if she does, it won’t be a pleasant experience.” He opened the cover and flipped a few pages as if locating the opening chapter.
Her chin wanted to tremble, but she forced it still. Her one friend in life. The only person Honora had, and she was being taken from her most unjustly. “Give me three more days. Then you can decide my fate after that.” She turned, not waiting for his reply.
When she was in the hall, she heard his voice call out to her.
“Better run, little mouse.”