Chapter 19
Letitia woke alone. It should not have been a surprise, not after a lifetime of waking alone, but this morning, she met that realization with a sense of panic.
Where is Ezra? Have I somehow imagined the whole thing?
But no. She could feel it in her body, everything they had done.
And it was foolish, utterly foolish, for her to want to have woken up in his arms. She had just promised herself that she would stop this nonsense, would stop pretending she could have things that she absolutely could not have.
If he were gone, that would be fine. She would let herself cry, just a little, and then she would move on, just like she had always planned to do.
At the sound of a rustle, she opened her eyes—and a smile spread across her face.
He is still here.
He was poking around shamelessly, the irritating little pest, but he was here.
“Find anything interesting?” she prodded, laughing a little when he jolted in surprise.
“Goodness, woman,” he exclaimed. His shirt was open halfway down his chest, and he had tugged on his trousers without bothering to fasten them.
He looked utterly debauched as he lounged against the wall, and she felt a surge of pride that she had been the one to debauch him.
“Are you trying to kill me? That would be very awkward to explain, you know. If you surprise me to death, I mean.”
“If you are startled to death, you deserve it,” she told him mercilessly, then burst into a startled peal of laughter when he rushed to the bed, dropped beside her, and pressed a probing kiss to her mouth.
“Minx,” he pronounced crisply when he had kissed her breathless.
She felt very luxurious, lounging in the bed. The morning sun was streaming through the window; she had slept far later than she usually did. She was a servant. She had been up with the sun for as long as she could remember.
“I thought you might be gone,” she admitted as he toyed with a lock of her hair. She had not plaited it before sleeping, so it had to look a fright, but he touched it with reverent fingers.
“I know I likely should have left,” he admitted. “You wanted distance, and staying is not giving you distance.”
“So why did you?” she asked.
His gaze moved from where he had been playing with her hair down to her face, his expression serious.
“I just wanted…” She didn’t know if she was eager or afraid to hear what he had to say next. “I wanted to know what it is that you are running from.”
Her eyes went wide with surprise, and he held up a hand, holding off her protest.
“I know, Letty. I know you don’t want to tell me.
I really do understand. I just… You have to know that it kills me, knowing that there’s something out there frightening you, and that I can’t do anything about it because I don’t even know what it is.
” He pressed his eyes closed, like he was summoning strength.
“I know it’s wretched of me to ask again.
I know I keep promising to stop all this—to let you go—and then I keep failing.
But I can’t leave without asking one last time. I am sorry.”
All at once, it seemed so silly, refusing to tell him all this time. It was as though all the fear she had felt had happened in a dream; she could remember it, but it didn’t feel quite real to her.
Because what was the point? Here, she had a man apologizing for caring for her.
It would be foolish not to let him give as much care as he wished.
And why? In case he thought she was the kind of woman who might let her employer take liberties?
She was very obviously the kind of woman who let her employer take liberties. His presence alone was proof of that.
She pulled herself back up against the headboard, gathering the blanket so that it covered her breasts. He had seen everything she had to offer, of course, but she could not bear to feel so exposed while she had this conversation.
“Very well,” she said.
Ezra looked surprised, then tried to cover it up, as if being startled might cause her to change her mind. She smiled, a rush of fondness overtaking her.
“His name was—is, I suppose—Lord Peter Dugley,” she said, not quite able to meet Ezra’s eyes. She hated even saying the wretch’s name. “He is a viscount—an English viscount, but he has lived in Belgium for at least a decade, now. His wife is French.”
She shook her head. Those details didn’t really matter, did they? But she didn’t know how to sort through it. She could either reveal everything or say nothing.
Ezra waited patiently. All he did was reach out to hold her hand, a silent gesture of support.
“I was hired to be the governess for his youngest child,” she said. “This was right before Clio—the Duchess of Metford, I should say—hired me to escort her back to England. The child was sweet, and it was all fine, at first.”
“At first,” Ezra echoed gently when she paused.
Letitia gave him a grim sort of smile, then nodded. “I’d been there for maybe three months when it started. Comments, first. Observations about my appearance that he ought not make. Seeking me out when he had no legitimate reason to do so. A hand on my shoulder that didn’t belong there.”
Her voice felt strangely emotionless. Distant, even to her own ears.
“I started avoiding him, and perhaps he got frustrated with that, because he found me one day when I was preparing a lesson for his daughter. He didn’t try to crowd me that time. Honestly, if not for his words, you would have thought that he was discussing something entirely proper.”
She could remember every detail of that day—the fear she’d felt when he’d appeared in the library door, followed by the relief when he had not come closer. And then confusion, dread, horror.
And, above everything else, the oddness of realizing that the library door was open. Anyone could walk by and see them because the viscount had not been afraid.
Why should he have been afraid when he held all the power?
“He told me that I had two choices,” she said, gazing absently at the wall when she was really seeing that far-away library.
“I could either become his mistress in secret, or he would tell everyone that I had done so anyway. He would ruin my reputation. God, you cannot know how worried I was, every minute of every day. I started to jump at every sound. I couldn’t sleep.
I couldn’t eat. Every time he and I encountered one another, he would give me this look, like he knew what I was, like he knew what I would do.
He would touch my shoulder, my waist—nothing that he couldn’t explain if someone saw it, but enough that I always knew it was a threat.
I was terrified of the day that he would… snap and take what he wanted.”
“The bastard,” Ezra said, his voice controlled, though his fingers did twitch angrily against hers. “Gentlemen like that aren’t worthy of the name.”
Her chuckle was mirthless. “No,” she agreed. “They don’t. But they are all too common. You know that.”
“I do,” he agreed grimly.
“He was all talk, as it turned out,” she said.
She shook her head incredulously. She should not have been surprised, but she had been.
She had been astonished, frankly. “I left as quickly as I could, and he didn’t make good on his threat.
He didn’t tell anyone. I went back to working with Clio, then with the Lightholders. And then you.”
Ezra could not have missed the gentle ruefulness in her voice when she said this last, and his anger was replaced by a small, soft smile.
“But threats like that don’t vanish,” he said kindly. “You still worry he will do something to hurt your reputation—your career?”
“I did wonder if he would,” she admitted. “Until he did.”
Ezra’s sharp inhale cut through the silence of the room like a knife.
“He contacted you?”
She nodded. It was a relief, she discovered, to tell the truth after all this time. It hurt, yes, but it was a good hurt, like cleaning out a festering wound.
“He did,” she said. “A letter. It came to your house.”
Ezra surged to his feet, then began pacing, as if there was more energy than his body could contain without movement.
“He sent a letter to my house?” he demanded, outraged. “How did he even find you there?”
She raised a hand in a helpless gesture.
“I wondered the same, but the truth is… I just don’t know.
He referenced knowing that I had been with the Duke and Duchess of Godwin and their children.
That, at least, was easier to find out. But your house…
We had not told anyone.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, bashful at the admission. “It frightened me.”
“What did the letter say?” he asked, still pacing. “Did he make threats?”
She shrugged. “Not explicit ones. He scolded me for leaving, like I had been a naughty child. He said that he would see me again, but he lives in Belgium.”
“And that’s why you didn’t agree to travel with Helen and Xander,” Ezra said with the air of someone who was finally putting together a puzzle that had bothered him for ages.
“That is why,” she agreed. “I was sorry to leave the children—they are wonderful—and the duke and duchess were considerate employers. But… I just could not go back.”
Ezra nodded, then paced silently for a few more rotations around the room. When he stopped, there was a storm on his face. He looked as though he wanted to rant and rail against everything he had heard.
Instead, he wiped his hand down his face as if trying to brush off his rage. When he spoke, his voice remained calm.
“What do you want to do?” he asked her.
God, her heart. It was not a small thing that he was asking her what she wanted, instead of trying to take charge himself.
“I don’t want to do anything,” she said, even though she knew he wouldn’t like this answer at all.
Indeed, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t object.
“I mean, what can I do? If I anger him, then he could start spreading rumors—and rumors are enough. Even if he is discredited, it will not matter. I will be ruined.”
He sucked in a slow breath, then let it out. Then, with visible reluctance, he nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”
“Thank you,” she said.
His expression softened. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
They looked at one another for a moment, and Letty didn’t even know that it would be her last. Because she was completely surprised when Ezra nodded again, then made for the door.
“Let me know when you can come by to help interview new governesses,” he said, one hand already on the handle while Letitia gaped at him, still entirely unclothed and in her bed. “Or when you wish to come see Iris. You are, of course, always welcome.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Yes. I will.”
“Good,” he said. “Good. Goodbye, Letitia.”
He stepped through the door and closed it before she could respond.
“Goodbye, Ezra,” she said to the empty air.
The room felt so very empty. She felt so very alone.