The Pearl (The Godwicks #3) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,51

every Godwick who’s ever walked the face of this horrid little Earth.”

Now her tears did fall and she let them, hot angry tears. She stared at him through them, like a veil.

“It’s my fault,” she said. “I never should have…what is it they say about sleeping with the enemy? This was a mistake, and it was my mistake. You were attractive and desperate, and I was lonely and bored.” She wiped her eyes and sighed. “Your brother will survive whatever your parents do to him, and he’ll be the better for it. You’ll see.”

“Of all the awful things you’ve said to me, that’s the only thing that hurts,” he said quietly. “This happened between us because you were bored? Insult me all you want, but don’t lie to me. You were dripping wet the first time I touched you.”

“Why shouldn’t I lie? You won’t even admit you like it.”

“I admitted it. Eventually. I know it took—”

“This is why you won’t tell your brother what really happened with you and Wendy, isn’t it? You’re too embarrassed to tell him that it all started when she mocked you for being a submissive? Your brother is destroying himself with self-loathing and all you care about is your worthless male pride.”

“You don’t care about Charlie,” Arthur said. “If you did, you wouldn’t have backed him into a corner he couldn’t escape.”

“He could have escaped by being honest and accepting the consequences for his actions.”

“Why should he when you won’t.”

She looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You can try to hate me, hate us, all you want, but I know the truth,” Arthur said. “You hate yourself. You hate yourself for being just like us, Lady Ferry. And you hate yourself for giving up on your art and your freedom and choosing money over your own happiness. You’ve been a rich widow for six months and you’re still working a job you hate, still wearing a watch over your tattoo because Sir Jack made you, still wearing the pearls your dead husband made you wear instead of picking up a bloody paintbrush and daring to do something that makes you happy instead of wallowing in your self-pity.

“If you want me to, I’ll apologize on my hands and knees for what my grandfather—who died before I was born, let me remind you—did to your mother. But if you want someone to blame for your own misery, go into the bedroom and look into your psyche mirror, Regan. You chose it, remember? Nobody else but you.”

“Are you finished now?” she asked. She sounded tired. “Because I am.”

For a terrible moment, he was back in the river again, in that ice-cold water and drowning. He wanted to love her, he realized just now, far too late. He wanted to love her and would never get the chance.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

She picked up her teacup, brought it to her lips. “It’s for your own good,” she said. “Really.”

She sipped her tea and looked away into the distance. That was the last he might ever see of her. She stared off at the silver clouds over London, and just like the woman in the painting, she sat there, dressed in blue, drinking her tea all alone.

Part II

8

Judith Slaying Holofernes

Arthur was gone and Regan was alone and that was exactly how she wanted it.

There was a little tea left in the pot. No use letting good oolong go to waste. She poured the rest, added milk, added one lump of sugar and drank. Regan coughed, unable to get the tea down for some reason. Her throat was tight. Obviously, she’d been outside too long in the brisk air.

A tear streaked down her cheek. The cool air, again. Time to go in for the day. She’d leave the tea things for later. She’d leave everything for later.

Regan rose from the table, shocked by how tired she felt all of a sudden. Arthur’s fault, she decided. She hadn’t meant to tell him about her mother and what his grandfather had done to her. But what was she supposed to have done when he sat there smug and steaming, furious at her for daring to suggest she knew anything at all about his family?

Oh, she knew everything there was to know about the Godwicks. Everything that mattered. She’d done the right thing by sending him packing, by reneging on their agreement. Charlie didn’t deserve to get pulled out of the fire, and