Chapter Eight

H ettie had scrubbed at the washstand as best she could before getting into the tub. After all, she'd hardly be able to get clean if the water was thoroughly polluted by whatever dried muck from the river remained. She had just stepped into the tub, sinking down in the blissfully hot and perfectly perfumed water, when she heard the door open. There was the sound of scurrying footfalls and then her sister's crisp stride. The servants had been sent away, and only Honoria remained with her.

Opening one eye, Hettie looked over at her sister, who stared at her with concern. "What?"

"I won't ask questions. You will tell me what you wish for me to know," Honoria replied in that calm and reasonable tone.

"Oh, I hate it when you do that!" Hettie said with exasperation.

"Do what?" Honoria asked innocently.

"When you sound all saintlike and patient. Ask, Honoria. Just ask."

Honoria watched her for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Fine. Did you have an intimate encounter with Mr. Ettinger?"

Hettie tensed. She'd told her to ask, but that was far more direct than she'd anticipated. "Define intimate?"

Honoria shook her head. "I do not believe that is necessary. There is only one thing that can create the sort of tension between two people that I recognized between you and the investigator today. I recognize it because I have recently experienced it myself."

Hettie sat up, water sloshing over the side of the tub. "Mr. Carrow?"

"He's asked me to marry him," Honoria said. "And I've accepted. There will be... ramifications."

"There always are," Hettie said softly. "Can you live with them?"

"Yes. Can you? This will complicate your desire for an annulment. I'm certain that Vincent can help, but it will be difficult."

"I'm not going to get the annulment," Hettie declared decisively. "I have earned this title. I have paid for it with more blood and misery than I care to think of. I will enjoy the position that title affords me... and the degree of protection that it will also extend to you. And like all young wives with wretched old husbands, I shall simply wait patiently for his dissipated life to take its final toll."

Honoria's eyes widened with shock and no small amount of horror. "Hettie, you cannot! The man is detestable. He fully intended to let them kill you rather than part with the ransom. Such a man—I cannot accept that you will be tied to him in such a way."

Hettie smiled. "Don't you see, Honoria? His actions have given me power. I know the most dishonorable secrets that he holds—his impotence, his greed, his willingness to sacrifice me for the sake of coin. And, if need be, I shall invoke the name of my new brother-in-law. I've little doubt that Arthur fears him enough to restrain his temper where I am concerned. So, I will stay here long enough to recover, and when I am at my best once more, I shall return home and take the reins of my household. And it is mine. Because I have paid for it with money, blood, and very bitter tears. He doesn't own me now. I own him."

Her sister's silence prompted Hettie to once more open her eyes. She could see the concern etched on Honoria's face. "I understand him, Honoria. I do. There is nothing he fears so much as public ridicule, and between what I know of him and your betrothed's connections, he has no hope of keeping his secrets unless I choose to let him. Trust me."

"I do trust you. Implicitly. But I worry what this will do to you... not physically, but you have always had a tender heart. To be this cold and calculating is not in your nature."

Hettie sighed. "My nature has altered to accommodate the life our father sold me into. Do not fear for me, sister. I will be fine. Whatever the outcome, I will be fine."

Honoria didn't argue the point further. Likely because she recognized that Hettie's mind was set and there was no changing it. In some regards, they were very much alike. Their obstinance was certainly a point of similarity.

*

Honoria left her sister in the tub, hair freshly washed and skin glowing from the vigorous scrubbing it had received. The maids would see her out of it and dressed for bed. Mrs. Ivers would see that Hettie's feet and other injuries were taken care of. Her greatest concerns had little to do with her sister's physical wellbeing at that moment. Honoria was more worried for the sake of her sister's tender heart.

She found Vincent in the breakfast room. Mrs. Ivers was feeding him along with several of his men, all of them served with heaping plates of bread, cheese, sausages, and hearty pudding. "I see Mrs. Ivers is taking very good care of you."

Vincent looked up at her, his eyes seeing far more than she likely would wish for him to. "Indeed, she is. But alas, I fear I cannot eat another bite. Delicious as it is, I am quite full. Come to the sitting room with me, Mrs. Blaylock; there is something I would discuss with you."

"Yes, of course. I daresay our concerns are in alignment," she concurred and exited the breakfast room with his booted footsteps echoing behind her. When they'd reached the sitting room, she turned to him. "They are lovers."

"I suspected as much," he conceded softly. "But we are in no position to take the moral high ground, Honoria. They are both adults. And she knew the potential costs of such an action even when he did not."

"I know. I do not blame him. I do not blame her," she said, wringing her hands. "It's more about the decision that she has made to remain with Ernsdale. She thinks that between your knowledge of his misdeeds and hers, he can be held in check."

"He can to a degree," Vincent agreed. "But not forever. The man consumes spirits as most of us consume air. Eventually, drink and temper will win out over his fear."

"I know," Honoria said. "I know. Will you help her?"

"You need never ask for such a thing. I will always do what is required to see to your happiness. I will protect Henrietta to the best of my ability... but you understand better than anyone, what happens behind closed doors between a husband and wife cannot always be easy to discern."

Honoria moved toward him, resting her head against his chest and taking comfort in the strength and warmth of him. "I do know. And so does Hettie. I cannot understand why she feels she must do this. Not when another option has been made available to her. She means to simply wait for him to die."

"Perhaps she knows something of his condition that the rest of us do not," he mused. "He is not a man of robust health, that is certain. But whether he is hovering at the brink of death, I cannot say."

"Will it send me to Hell to pray that is so?"

"If that's all it takes to send a person to Hell, my darling, it will be filled to overflowing. Now, it's been a very long night. And I want nothing more than to take you to bed."

"I'm exhausted," she admitted. "But I haven't a hope of sleeping."

"I want to take you to bed, Honoria. Sleeping was never part of the equation."

Her lips quirked into a sly smile. "Then by all means, Mr. Carrow, please escort me to my chamber."