Page 17 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
“Have you no brothers?” John thundered. “Your father didn’t kill him in a duel?”
She stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment for a moment. He was magnificently angry. His muscles seemed to build upon themselves as he heaved in breaths to a chest she could still mostly see through to the fire on the other side.
The effect was rather apropos, as the flames licked at his chest, seeming to ignite the scarlet coat with the same inferno that blazed in his eyes.
“Well,” she answered somewhat demurely. “Duels have been illegal for some time now.”
He gaped at her. “You’re joking.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“You mean to tell me, there is no recourse to besmirched honor?” He gestured broadly as if he couldn’t comprehend the idiocy. “Any blighter can walk around and say whatever they might to defame an innocent, and others do what…believethem?”
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.
