To his surprise, Blackwell’s smile widened as he held up his hands. “Hardly alone, I conducted my sisters-in-law, Lady Ravencroft and Lady Thorne, to the Savoy where they are staying while in town from Scotland. I informed Farah thusly before we left.”
The very plausible explanation stole the wind from his sails.
“Yes, well…she did not mark you.”
“We’ll blame that on her third glass of wine,” Blackwell chuckled fondly.
Morley scowled, rippling with displeasure. “Why didn’t you drop Prudence here first? This is rather out of your way.”
“It was upon her request.” Blackwell’s one uncovered eye flicked a meaning-laden glance toward the ominously closed door. “If I’m honest, she wasn’t in any great haste to go home.”
Morley stood on his walk feeling like the war banner of a defeated army. Trampled. Torn asunder. And rather pointless anymore. He nodded his thanks to Blackwell, not feeling capable of forming kind words. “You might want to hurry back and tell Ash and your wife all is well,” he muttered.
“Certainly.” After a hesitation, Blackwell leaned out the window. “I know killers, Morley. I am one. You are one. We can sense each other, I think. Surely you already know she is not.”
The moment when the truth collided inside of him felt as though a thunderbolt had reached out of the sky and touched him. He suddenly knew what to do. He knew what to say.
Blackwell continued, “If you want my advice—”
“I don’t.” Morley pulled an abrupt about-face, and marched up the stairs to his home, hoping his wife hadn’t locked him out for good.
Chapter 17
Prudence had known he’d follow her. That he’d have much to say. She didn’t bother readying for bed as she felt no great need to confront him in a state of undress.
She felt vulnerable enough.
An acid taste crawled up the back of her throat, as she perched on the very edge of the mattress and laced her own fingers together in a painful clench at the sound of his footsteps coming down the hall.
She regretted how she’d acted before. Even after the Ladies’ Aid Society had supported and encouraged her position…she still wished she’d have not lost her temper.
She hadn’t exactly meant to tell the Ladies’ Aid Society matrons her story, but Farah Blackwell had taken one look at her upon arrival and swept her into a circle of the warmest and most extraordinary women, who all demanded to know what was wrong so they could help.
Once she’d recounted everything in various shades of detail, Pru became surprised at just how eventful the past three or so months had been. No wonder she felt as deflated as a collapsed souffle. No wonder she’d been so unaccountably upset this afternoon.
Shame oiled her insides as she thought about the intimacy of the confession Morley had shared before their row. His sister was a protected and painful secret. His avenging of her death a susceptible concession for a man such as he.
He’d handed her the power to destroy him, and she’d whipped him with it.
After her ire had cooled…she’d had to admit he’d made some salient points. Even though the points skewered her through with injustice and agonizing distress.
She knew they needed to have a discussion, that she needed to make concessions just as much as he did. However, she couldn’t bring herself to do it tonight. Not now, when she felt as though her entire being, both inside and out, was just one taut, brittle nerve flayed open and exposed.
Though she expected it, she still jumped at his gentle knock.
Closing her eyes against the dread, she silently pled. Please, I can take no more. Not tonight.
The door opened, and she knew she should stand and face him, that she should gather up her reserves of strength and determination, notch her chin high, and meet him will for strong will until they overcame their problem.
But, everything at the moment seemed as insurmountable as Mount Kilimanjaro. Producing tears would be a chore, let alone peeling herself off the bed.
She tensed as he neared, her eyes unable to lift above the carpet as she focused on steeling what was left of herself for this. For him.
He stood in front of her for a fraught and silent moment, and when she couldn’t bring herself to lift her head, he did something that took her breath.
He knelt like a penitent on the carpet before her, reached out, and covered her clenched hands with his own. The contact thawed her frigid fingers, unleashing tendrils of warmth that radiated up her