Chapter 14
Letty turned her face from him. She could not.
God, she should never have let him into her room.
“Leave it alone,” she said, perfectly aware that it sounded like she was begging.
When she dared to glance back, there was a determined look on his face.
“I can’t, Letitia,” he said. “You are here. You are a member of this household. You are mine to protect. And I can’t protect you from something that I don’t know how to guard against. I don’t even know what it is—but I know it exists, and I.
..” He shook his head. “It’s driving me mad, because I need to know how to keep you safe. You must tell me.”
Something inside Letitia split into two.
There was a small, sensible part of her that understood that Ezra was saying this out of the same kind of concern that he had just shown toward Iris.
She had been touched when he spoke of his desire to protect the child.
She should, that quiet voice reasoned, feel the same when he was speaking about her.
But a much louder part of her was not being sensible at all. It didn’t hear Ezra—it heard another nobleman, another gentleman, telling her what to do. Telling her that she was owned. That she was his.
And that loud, frightened part of her didn’t hear Ezra at all. It heard Peter.
“Stop,” she said. She wanted to press her hands over her ears like a child.
“I can’t,” he said. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, and even though he wasn’t holding her tightly or forcefully at all, the touch burned like a brand. “Please. Letty. You have to tell me.”
‘Give in, girl. You have to do as I say. I own you.’
Peter’s hateful voice rang in her mind.
“It’s nothing,” she said. She sounded so very small. That was always how he had made her feel—small, like she could not possibly matter.
Ezra’s other hand came up to touch her cheek, impossibly gentle, and she could not bear it. She just could not bear it.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, and that was so much worse. “Please. Just tell me. It’s clear it’s hurting you. I will protect you. You’ll stay here. You’ll be safe.”
The words were right, but the screaming panic in her mind warped them into something different, something sinister. She wanted to run, wanted to flee, to disappear into the night, responsibilities be damned.
She jerked out of his hold.
“Someone tried to ruin me, all right?” she snapped, feeling as though someone angrier and more vicious had taken over her voice. “Some other man who didn’t listen when I refused him, who pushed and pushed and pushed.”
It wasn’t fair. She knew it wasn’t fair to equate Ezra with Peter. They weren’t the same. But she was acting like a wounded animal, lashing out at the hand that tried to help.
Ezra had every reason to lash back out in turn.
But he didn’t.
“I am so sorry, Letty,” he said, his face achingly full of understanding. “I did not mean to alarm you. Please forgive me.”
The apology was heartfelt, but it still felt as though it could not reach her amid the maelstrom of her emotions. She shook her head roughly.
“This never... I never should have come here,” she said, unsure whether she was speaking to herself or her employer. “I knew it from the start. I should have stayed away. But I let myself get pulled in by security, promises, and...”
And by wanting him. She could admit that much. She wanted him, quite desperately. She wanted him with an intensity she had never felt for anyone before.
But that was foolishness. Goodness, it was worse than the whole mess with Peter, in a way. Because at least then, she had not been complicit in her own ruination. But here, now, with Ezra?
She kept walking into trouble with her eyes wide open. And if she let this go on any longer, she wouldn’t be the servant who was rumored to have lain with her employer. She would be the woman who had actually done such a thing.
And maybe that difference was only important inside her own mind. But her self-respect was likely the only thing she would have left to her name by the end of this disaster.
“I should not have come here,” she repeated. “And I think it is time for me to leave. Now. Tonight.”
She tried to ignore the wrench in her heart as she spoke the words. It was because of Iris, she told herself. Iris alone.
Because the rest would be just fine. She could rent lodgings again, even if she didn’t have much saved in the way of money.
But she would find another position, even without the Duke of Rutley’s recommendation, wouldn’t she?
And if she didn’t, if she was very economical, and if she took in some mending or some laundry, perhaps she could survive until the Duke and Duchess of Godwin came back to England.
There was no guarantee they’d take her back, of course, but maybe.
And Ezra avoided his family, so she wouldn’t have to see him much. And Sarah would be provided for, and—
“Letitia.” Ezra was looking at her, concern etched deep in his expression.
His hands twitched as though he wanted to reach for her, but he pulled himself back.
She choked down a whimper of dismay. “Listen. You are not a prisoner here. I do not want you to leave.” More emotion tried to fight its way up her throat.
“But I will not prevent you, if you wish to go. But… please. Not like this. Not in the dead of night.”
He took a slow step forward, as if he were trying not to startle a frightened animal.
“If you go right now, there will be danger,” he said soothingly. “Even if you kept those dreadful rooms of yours...”
She shook her head. Of course, she had not. It had been a needless expense.
Ezra made a low sound of acknowledgment.
“Even if you had,” he went on, “I wouldn’t feel good about you traveling the streets alone at this hour.
And I would fear that if someone saw you get out of my carriage and go into your rooms alone, they would think you a good target for robbery.
And since you don’t have them anymore, it becomes even more complicated.
You will not be able to find a place—not any place safe, at least—at this time of night. ”
“You’re right,” she said, feeling all the fight suddenly go out of her. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
She sounded piteous enough that she was immediately disgusted with herself, but she found she lacked the energy to put on a brave face.
“Listen,” Ezra said. Very, very slowly, so that she had time to move away if she wanted to, he laid a hand on her shoulder.
“I don’t think you should leave. I think you should stay here with Iris.
And Sarah. But if you intend to go, I will not stop you.
I will help you. Only… do it right. Let us give Iris notice, so that she does not wake one morning to find you suddenly gone. ”
He spoke so gently. He didn’t pressure her with the fact that Iris had lost enough, that no doubt she’d woken up one morning to find her mother gone forever. He didn’t do anything to try to sway her one way or another. He offered to help her.
Peter would never have done that, whispered that quiet, sensible voice inside her, now a bit louder than it had been before. He could not even pretend to care about anyone other than himself.
“Very well,” she heard herself saying. “I will remain another week. I can manage a week. That will give me time to let Iris know.”
His smile was tinged with sadness, but he still looked so nakedly relieved that Letty almost could not stand to look at him.
“Good,” he said. “That’s good. Thank you.”
Just like that, her throat felt thick again. He was thanking her. She wasn’t doing what he wanted, but he still was thanking her for the small concession she’d made, even though failing to do so was madness.
“You are too kind,” she mumbled. Without thinking, she stumbled a half step forward, as if drawn in by him like iron shavings to a magnet. “Why are you so kind to me?”
He slid his hand on her shoulder around her back, until he was holding her in a halfway sort of embrace, one that offered comfort without trapping her.
“I thought I was overbearing, annoying, and could not take no for an answer,” he said, a touch wryly.
Somehow, Letty had found herself pressing her forehead to his shoulder.
“You are,” she said, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “But you can be kind, too. And I am only a governess.”
She’d meant it as a contrast to Iris—of course, he was kind to Iris, who was very likely a member of his own family.
But maybe she had meant it the way it sounded, too.
After all, she could count on one hand the people who had ever made her feel as though she was worth something—Sarah, Clio, Helen, and now Ezra.
It did not escape her that three-quarters of that number were part of the madcap Lightholder family. Lunatics, the lot of them.
But Ezra—who, she was beginning to see with greater clarity, had a genuinely good heart beneath the charm and the insolent smiles—stiffened, as if truly offended by her comments.
“Letty.” Her name was stern as he pulled back just enough so he could look down at her.
“You are not ‘only’ bloody anything, do you hear me? You are a person, and I could not own you more than I could own the skies. Nobody could, and I would like to wring the neck of the person who made you think otherwise. Fuck titles. Fuck wealth and prestige and all those things that the world says you need in order to matter. You matter because you are you. Nobody can take that from you. And if you point me in the direction of the person who made you think it was a good idea to flee into the night, I shall gut them where they stand.”
It was a pretty speech, made all the prettier because he didn’t deliver it with any of his usual polish. He said it angrily, but she didn’t feel any of the heat of that anger. It wasn’t at her. It was for her, on her behalf.
“Ezra,” she said, wonderingly—because he was a goddamned wonder.
He sighed, and it was almost melancholy.
“I told myself I wouldn’t do this again,” he muttered.
And then his lips were upon hers.