Chapter 22 #2
“It is just as I expected. You belligerent, foolish men. I can’t believe either of you have let this go on for as long as it has.
It is tragic, immensely—what happened to him, what was stolen—but the way you have both twisted yourselves around a false truth?
It is like neither of you ever stepped out of it.
Dorian is convinced you betrayed him, and you are still apologizing for something you didn’t do, like you are stuck there, both of you, in those same muddy shoes. ”
Slowly shaking her head, Ellie replied. “So, yes, I do believe you. And it marries the few things Dorian has told me. The disconnect here is that you and he see the same thing from different angles.”
He gave her a tight, humorless smile. “I don’t suppose you can convince him of that.”
Ellie considered herself a decent judge of character, and with all her powers of evaluation, Benedict read as honest, genuine, and sincere. She knew he had no hand in Dorian’s pain, but if only she could convince her husband of that.
“I shall do my utmost best,” she nodded. “And thank you for explaining this to me.”
Setting his coffee down, Benedict rubbed his palms together. “May I ask you something personal?”
“Of course,” Ellie replied.
“Is he… is he happy?” Benedict asked.
Ellie let out a breath and gave the man a soft smile. “He is better than he was.”
“That’s good,” Benedict nodded, pleased.
“I vaguely remember his mother, she was once a Diamond of the First Water in those times. She was such a beauty, and when Dorian was younger, he mirrored her more than he did his father.” The raven-haired man chuckled at a distant memory.
“Though I suppose us dandies always mirror our mothers until we must take on the roles of our forefathers.”
That was interesting.
“Do you remember his mother’s name?” Ellie inquired.
His eyes shifted to the left. “Georgiana, I believe. Yes, Georgiana Yates was her maiden name.”
“If she is anything like my husband’s soft interior, she sounds lovely,” Ellie smiled.
“She indeed was,” Benedict chuckled as he straightened. “Ah. I met your cousin last night. She was worried for you after your impromptu departure.”
Evelina’s emotions took another turn. Harriet.
She feared for her cousin in that social-climbing house. Maybe she should go to her aunt’s house and warn them away from dropping Harriet into Carrington’s clutches.
“I should speak with her and ease her worries,” she said.
He dropped some more cream in his coffee. “She is a lovely young woman. I spoke with her for all of five minutes, and I could already tell as much… though we never got around to the part of whether she is being courted by someone,” he trailed off, feigning distraction.
There was something in his tone that piqued Evelina’s interest. “Benedict…” her lips twitched, “Are you seeking my permission to court my cousin?”
Ruddiness stained the high ridges of Benedict’s cheekbones. “In a roundabout way, I suppose.”
Ellie laughed. “I’d be delighted if you did court her. She would do well with a man like you.”
“Thank you,” he coughed in fevered embarrassment, reaching for his cup. “Would you… perhaps mind telling me her favorite flower?”
Hurrying back to Somerton in the late evening, almost night—rain was on the air—Ellie shed away her coat and rested the box of books from Temple of the Muses on the closest table.
The deluge came.
“Goodness,” she peered out a window at the sudden sheets of rain pummeling the streets and making the water in the fountain dance and spill over.
The day had been wonderful; after the talk with Benedict, she and Victoria had gone to the Pall Mall Haberdasheries in Bond Street, then for ices at Gunter’s Tea Shop, and lastly, book shopping.
She headed to her rooms, ready for her bath and supper, only to cross Dorian’s study. He was leaning in his chair; a long index finger was tracing the rim of his whisky glass.
Dorian’s expression was as bleak as the rainy night. His skin stretched drum-taut over the sharp frame of his bones. His eyes were bleary, rimmed with red, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept for months.
“Dorian?” she entered, concern twisting her stomach in knots. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, of course,” he murmured, tossing back a mouthful. “And I’ll be much better when you tell me where you were today.”
Her stomach curdled. “I have a feeling that you already have the answer to that.”
He pressed the glass to his temple. “How many lies did he tell you this time?”
Ellie felt her heart sink, and she pushed from the table. “Dorian, if you would—”
“Tell me.” His eyes were cutting.
She notched her head up to meet them while her heart felt as if it were beating out of her breastbone. “He did not lie to me.”
Dorian slammed the glass down with a hard thunk before he rounded the table. His stride was that of a panther on the prowl, his golden eyes narrowed like the great cat. She spun around and, with nowhere to go, had her backside on the edge of his table.
He planted his palms on both sides of her while leaning in. “Did he now?”
“Yes, he did,” she whispered. “And I happen to believe him.”
“And what did he tell you, hm?” Dorian asked. “Did he plead his innocence on the matter? Did he tell you that he had no part in the trickery his father pulled on me?”
“He did,” Ellie defended Benedict. “When was the last time you had a civil conversation with him?”
“And why in god’s name would I have one!”
She pressed both hands to his chest and tried to push him a little, to no avail. “Because if you had spoken to him, you would have seen the pain and agony in his face when he recounted that fateful day.”
“The man should have had his name on a poster in Covent Garden!” Dorian boomed. “He is a master thespian!”
Ellie tried another tactic, one she hoped would call to the logic she knew he possessed. “He was a boy like you, Dorian, and I hate these words, but he was of a lesser rank. What motive would he have to betray you?”
“The thirty-thousand pounds my uncle bribed them with!” Dorian growled.
“And you think his parents told him that?” Ellie countered. “What child would agree to stab another child in the back?”
Dorian pushed away with a derisive snort.
“I have seen ten-year-olds who have scrapped for survival on the streets and young boys being imprisoned in the hulks. Do you know the savagery that goes on in those places, Evelina? The depravity? Yes, a child would stab another child in the back, quite literally.”
The checked rage in his words broke through her numbness, and for once, Ellie saw a true crack in his armor; she saw pure torment in the eyes of the man in front of her. For the first time, she began to understand Dorian’s complexity.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, “I am so sorry you had to go through that.”
He tensed. “I do not seek your pity.”
She stifled the urge to scream. “For heaven’s sake, I don’t feel sorry for you, Dorian!
I’m sorry that you had to feel that pain.
There’s a difference between pity and empathy, and I know you know that, you—you…
. butterbrain. You turned Benedict into a scapegoat because you couldn’t get to the real culprits, and you know it! ”
“It is over, and so is this conversation!” Dorian growled before falling back into his seat and pouring out more liquor.
Her fists balled at her sides. “Dorian, for a man who survived by reading other people, you have tremendously bungled reading Benedict. If you had half a brain, which I believe you do, you’d be logical and speak with the man. Have you considered that he lost you too?”
Not once did he look at her, and she threw her hands up in frustration. “God above, you’re stubborn.” She headed to the door, rested her hand on the knob, then pivoted to regard him.
“And the worst thing is, I think you know he is innocent, but your pride won’t let you admit it. Please don’t drink yourself into a wheelbarrow. You’ll hate yourself for it in the morning.”