measure of the man with whom I am involved,’ she said calmly, even though her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen.
‘Involved. Is that what we are? Because after the way things ended the other night it seemed otherwise.’
The silence whispered.
He did not thaw.
‘I see that I have made a mistake. If you will excuse me, my lord.’ She made to walk by him.
He did not move to stop her, only spoke the words with that quiet intensity of his. ‘Do you not want what you came for, Venetia?’
She stopped, her eyes meeting his, afraid of how much he knew, afraid he had won the game in earnest.
He flipped the head of the wolf’s-head on his cane, and inside, tucked in the slot of a dark velvet cushion, was a small silver key. He removed it, slipped it into the lock of the safe and turned. The front of the box swung open. He stood back and gestured towards it.
‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘If you want to know so badly.’
She stared at him, her heart thumping madly, afraid to look, and even more afraid not to.
His expression was unreadable, but in that dark gaze that held hers she saw the flicker of something that made her feel ashamed.
The clock in the corner ticked, so slow and steady beside the spur of Venetia’s heart. She stepped slowly to the safe. She could see straight away that it contained neither the pistol nor the book. There were several thick rolls of white bank notes, and, at the back, a calf-skin pouch of golden guineas, but it was not at them at which she looked. She stared only at the pile of assorted documents and letters. Only at the folded theatre playbill that lay on the top of it. The theatre playbill of As You Like It, starring Miss Venetia Fox and newcomer Miss Alice Sweetly, from the very first night she had met him. She lifted it out. Inside the playbill was a man’s handkerchief, folded neatly, clean and white save for the clear rouge impression of a woman’s mouth, where she had pressed it to her lips. There was an ache in her chest, a prickle of tears in her eyes as she raised them to his.
He said nothing, just stood there with dignity and his secrets laid bare.
She folded the playbill over the handkerchief, replaced them both in the safe box just as they had been.
‘You have not examined the rest,’ he said.
‘I do not need to.’
They looked at one another.
‘You dismissed me like one of your footmen, Venetia.’
‘I should not have done that.’ She glanced down at her hands. ‘There are things I have to ask you, things I need to know.’ Questions all for herself and none for Robert.
He said nothing, just stood there and waited.
‘You burned Rotherham’s house.’
He was silent.
‘What was between the two of you? Why did you hate him so much?’ she asked.
She saw his jaw tense, the dangerous look that entered his eyes.
‘Rotherham was a man who took what he wanted regardless of whom he hurt.’
There was a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, a sense of the horror that his words only hinted at. ‘What did he do?’
‘He hurt someone close to me. Hurt them very badly.’ He looked at her and she could see the pain in his eyes.
‘I am sorry,’ she said, knowing the man who fathered her was fully capable of such cruelty.
‘So am I, Venetia.’ She felt her heart tremble at his words.
The silence was loud between them. The single key question that had been the start of it all remained unasked.
‘You know who I am, Venetia. I have never pretended to be anything else. You have the measure of me.’
Her eyes met his again, seeing only the same man she had always seen. The man who seemed to call to her soul. Down where their hands rested, each alone, she shifted hers slightly so that her fingers brushed against his.
‘Yes, Francis,’ she said softly, her eyes searching his as if she could see into his very soul. ‘I believe that I do.’ And she took his face very gently between her hands and kissed him.
He stood stock-still at first, gave no response, but she could feel the stirrings beneath, sense the struggle that raged beneath that exterior of cool control. She kissed him again, plucking one kiss and then another softly from those firm sculpted lips, not with seduction but with a raw honesty of all