just as responsible for the evil done to all those children.”
“And you would reveal your mother’s participation in the disappearance of Lord Maxwell?” the duchess asked.
“I would,” Faye said bluntly. “I intend to.”
The duchess stared at her for a long while, and then with a sigh, she rubbed a hand over her brow.
The Duchess of Somerset sat back in her Louis XIV chair. The sun played off the golden armrests of that thronelike seating. “Tell me this…” Her Grace tapped jagged fingernails stained with ink upon the gilded wood. “What if we manage to locate other illegitimate children who’ve had their lives destroyed? Do you simply intend to share their stories with the world?” She didn’t give Faye a chance to answer. “A world that won’t really care about their suffering, that will only be focused on the tales as gossip. Tell me, how does that undo the suffering of those children you speak of?”
The automatic and unequivocal answer was, it didn’t. Nothing could or would ever erase the pain those children had known, children like the boy Tynan had been. And his sister.
“No,” she finally brought herself to acknowledge. “But if those people were so capable of using a child, of hurting them, then what is to say that, unless they are outed for the crimes they are guilty of, they won’t inflict such hurt, or a different hurt, upon others?”
The duchess ceased that quiet tapping of her fingers. “I do not disagree with you.”
Faye blinked slowly, and as those words registered, she sat up straighter. “Your Grace?”
“I do believe the guilty should pay the public price of owning their crimes.” Leaning forward, she angled toward Faye. “Ultimately, however, if we do locate others who were harmed, the decision should lie with them whether their story comes to light. For, when the crimes of sinners are exposed, it is the individuals who suffered long ago whose memories are resurrected for all the world to see. And to know…”
Faye stilled. She’d been so focused on exposing the evil that she’d not properly considered what it would mean for the victims to have their lives laid bare for Society’s scrutiny. A Society that, on the whole, didn’t really care about them, at least not beyond the gossip provided by the tales of their suffering. Was that just and right? Owning that decision for those individuals? And yet…
“Surely it is wrong that no price is paid,” Faye said, hers a plea to understand.
“What exactly is wrong or right?” the duchess countered. She smiled, a sad expression that ran all the way to her eyes. “Having lived as I did on the streets and done what I needed in order to survive, I’ve come to find that life isn’t ever the black and white the world thinks it is or wants it to be.”
“Shades of gray,” Faye murmured.
“Precisely,” the duchess said. She came to her feet, signaling their meeting was at an end, and Faye stood. “I do not trust Oswyn, and yet, I will not simply dismiss his claims because of my feelings for him.” She rubbed at her temples and then seemed to catch herself and abruptly stopped. “I will make my inquiries, and if they are willing to share, then they can come to you. And if they do not, then perhaps you should focus your energies and efforts on those who wish to speak.” With that, she headed over to a small escritoire desk that overlooked the streets below.
Faye’s mind raced as she stared on. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said softly as she collected her bag.
The duchess sprinkled some powder upon her page and lightly blew. Her Grace returned and pressed the sheet into her fingers. “I will be in touch with you, Miss Poplar. Any inquiries you have, you may send them to the following addresses.”
Faye stared at the page.
This was it.
The link to all future sources and interviews. And Tynan was…
“Unless there is something else you require?” the duchess ventured.
Faye came jolting back to the moment. “No. No. This is everything I need, Your Grace. I thank you.”
It was everything she needed, but not everything she wanted.
Chapter 25
He’d never seen Faye this way before, silent and morose.
And he hated this side of her, not for selfish reasons, but oddly because seeing her happiness had brought him happiness.
And yet, since she’d exited the Duke and Duchess of Somerset’s household and they’d returned to her home, she’d offered him only silence. A distracted word of thanks had been