defame an innocent, and others do what… believe them?”
It did sound rather ridiculous the way he said it. “If they’re a man of influence, they are believed,” she answered. “That seems to be the way of it. I mean, there are libel laws, but…that recourse is rarely taken.”
He made a disgusted face and threw a gesture at the door toward the chaos on the other side of it. “This age isn’t enlightened, it’s barbaric.”
“I don’t know about that. Fewer people die in duels, so…I suppose you might call that progress.”
“Not in my opinion. Not this bloody—” He whirled on her. “What was his name again?”
“William Mosby.”
“William… I’d cheerfully murder the ponce myself. I’d strike his entire legacy from the annals of time until—”
“No need.” Vanessa held her hand up against him. “Truly. He’s…well, he’s met his fate. What’s done cannot be undone.”
Suddenly. Miraculously. His features softened as he looked down at her, his arms dropping to his sides as he lingered close. Closer. His hand reached out as if to lift her chin, but he never quite managed. “I am sorry that you suffered.”
She summoned that false-bright smile for him. The one she’d learned so well. “I am lucky, in many respects. I still have a generous stipend from my father, to assuage his guilt, I imagine, for keeping me away from them socially. And with it I plan to see the world. I go on adventures like this one. And, reputation-wise, I’ve nothing to lose, so I may do what I please.”
His brow furrowed in consternation. “But you’re alone. Why not have a companion to take on such adventures with you?”
She let out a very unladylike snort. “The idea of compelling someone to keep me company with coin never appealed to me. Besides, then I’d be responsible for them, wouldn’t I? And, if I’m honest, very few would consider an association with one as besmirched as I a very desirable position. No one would consider my references a boon.”
The look on his face caused her own to fall. She couldn’t bear the tenderness. Or the pity.
“It is not so much suffering,” she all but whispered. “When there are so many in the world who know such pain, my bit of shame and isolation seems rather small in comparison.”
He dipped his head, his lips hovering above her forehead. “Suffering can be profound or prosaic, but it is suffering all the same. Yours is not inconsequential.”
His words melted her like honey decrystalizing in the summer heat. His presence washed over her like silk flowing in a breeze. Insubstantial, sensual, and yet compelling.
“You’re not broken,” he said. “You’re not ruined. Not to me.”
“You’re being kind,” she choked out over a lump of emotion lodged in her throat.
“I mean it,” he said fiercely.
She ducked away from him, turning to hide the burn of tears, pinching the bridge of her nose against their ache. She was too proud for this. She could not come apart in front of a veritable stranger.
“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“You—have a ruthless side,” she admitted breathlessly. “It—um—it makes my blood rush around a bit.”
He was close again. Right behind her. His presence a relentless affectation. “I frightened you?”
“No! I mean. Not entirely. You’re the only person who has ever stood up for me before,” she admitted, moving toward the fire and smoothing her dress down her thighs in a nervous gesture.
“Then why retreat from me?” he persisted.
She could tell the flames nothing but the truth. “When you touch me I…Well, actually, you don’t touch me. But you were able to hold on to inanimate objects. To do a man violence.”
He let out a long breath. “I’m little better than an awareness most of the time. Something I could slip in and out of at will at first, but the longer I tarry, the more I spend in the void. But there are holy days—solstices and equinoxes where, if I concentrate very hard, I can become something like corporeal. At least, for a moment. I can will things to move, but it depletes me. On nights like Na Fir Chlis I am the most visible, but I cannot sustain contact for long.”
“I see,” she whispered.
His voice ventured closer, until she could almost feel his warm breath against her ear. “When I reached for you in the bath, my hand went through you… You felt that?”
“I feel—something. Not your skin, per se. Something else. It’s like…” She cast about for the word. “A tingling. No, stronger than that. A vibration, perhaps.”
He