Page 92 of The Unseen
“I’d never felt so alone. There was no one I could confide in, no one I could call,” Rhys confessed. “I didn’t want to upset my mum, and Owain would have said, ‘I told you so.’ He’s good at that. Got to love older brothers.”
“You could have called me.” Quinn moved from the chair to Rhys’s bed and wedged herself in next to him. She wrapped her arm around him, and he rested his head on her shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but just held him for a long time, allowing him to grieve.
“She was supposed to come home with me for Christmas, to meet my family,” Rhys finally said.
“Come to Berwick with us. We’ll have a lovely, peaceful Christmas. I won’t allow you to be on your own.”
Rhys shook his head. “Thank you, but I already told my mum I’m coming home. She’s expecting me. Don’t worry; she’ll set me to rights. She’ll lock me in the kitchen and make me bake mince pies for the whole town. And if that doesn’t do it, after spending a week with my nieces and nephews, I’ll remember that kids are annoying brats and I’ve had a lucky escape.”
“I can always lend you a squalling infant for a few hours.”
Rhys smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Always.”
“Quinn, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For caring. Now, go home to your children. I’ll be all right.”
“Is there anyone you’d like me to call?”
Rhys shook his head. “I’d rather keep this little episode to myself, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Just text Rhiannan and tell her you’re on the mend. That poor woman is utterly besotted with you.”
“She can’t help herself, I suppose. I’m quite the catch,” he added with a sad little grin. “I do like her. Too bad it’s no longer acceptable to shag one’s secretary.”
“Political correctness is a bitch,” Quinn agreed, getting a chuckle out of Rhys. This was the old Rhys, the one she knew and loved. She gave him a motherly kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you later. Ring me if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
FIFTY-FIVE
JULY 1919
London, England
The clock in the corridor struck the midnight hour, but sleep wouldn’t come. That clock taunted her every night, reminding her that no amount of time would erase the past. Valentina curled into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest. The euphoria of being with Alexei had worn off, leaving behind crushing guilt and crippling doubt. How could she build a life with him after everything that had happened? She was a harlot and a murderess, not to mention a liar and a fraud. She was no longer the girl Alexei had fallen in love with, nor was she the woman he believed her to be. What if the truth came out? Alexei would be crushed, but his inbred sense of honor would prevent him from leaving her.
He’d remain by her side and make her his wife when the time came, but how would he really feel about her? Would he still respect and cherish her, or would he cringe with shame every time she walked into the room? Would he still desire her, or be forever repelled by the knowledge of those who’d come before him? She could never completely erase the memory of those men, no matter how hard she tried. Had they been men chosen and loved by her, she might have been able to justify her immoral deeds, but having been repeatedly violated and used regardless of her needs or feelings, she was forever tainted and forever broken by what she’d been driven to do to save herself and Tanya.
Perhaps he’ll forgive me if I tell him the truth, Valentina thought but instantly rejected the idea. She could never bring herself to tell Alexei she’d whored for Dmitri, then killed him in cold blood, doused his corpse with lye, and hidden it in his own house. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d lied to the police and desecrated a church register, adding a fraudulent marriage in orderto claim Dmitri’s assets. Put like that, she fit the profile of some criminal mastermind, conjured up by the likes of Arthur Conan Doyle. If the truth ever came out, she’d be branded a madwoman. The newspapers would paint her as someone degenerate and deranged, a natural born sinner whose debt to society could only be paid by her gruesome death. Valentina’s hand automatically went to her neck. She could almost feel the rough hemp of the rope. No, she could never tell Alexei the truth, nor could she take the chance of him finding out.
Bitter tears of heartbreak slid down her cheeks. She could never marry Alexei, not even after Dmitri was declared legally dead. Nor could she ever leave this house. She’d have to spend the rest of her days protecting her secret and keeping her neck out of the noose. As long as Mayhew, Murdoch, and Gleason were out there, there was someone who could expose her. If the police found out about the prostitution, they’d have grounds to dig deeper, and then her whole story would unravel. Granted, the men had nothing to gain by coming forward, especially since they were all married, with children, but they had the power to hurt her, and they knew it.
You have the power to hurt them as well, Valentina thought.
But who will believe you?a tiny voice responded.They are respectable businessmen, British citizens, beloved husbands and fathers. You are nothing, no one. You are a refugee. A foreigner. Someone who’s viewed with suspicion and doubt. You are despised at worst, invisible at best.
Valentina wiped the tears away again and again, but they kept coming, sliding down her cheeks as her heart caught up to her mind. Her decision was made. She would tell Alexei she couldn’t marry him and that he should return to Paris. There were countless Russian émigrés in Paris—young, beautiful, pure young women who’d like nothing more than to give him their love and respect. She loved him too much to ruin his life and bring disgrace onto what was left of his family. And she was too fragile to risk him finding out the truth and steeling his heart against her, living with her in shame and regret because divorce wasn’t an option.Valentina covered her head with her arms and made herself as small as humanly possible, wishing she could simply disappear. What she’d done was a stain that could never be erased, a land mine that would explode if she stepped off it.
FIFTY-SIX
DECEMBER 2014
London, England
