Page 89 of Murder at the Seven Dials
“Thank you—” she started to say, just as Mr. Marsden blurted out, “I’m sorry—”
They each sealed their lips. He gestured to her with a hand. “Duchesses first.”
Though she was quite interested to hear what Mr. Marsden was sorry about, she wanted to say her piece and be done with it.
“I know that I wasn’t exactly easy to work with,” she said, ignoring the cant of his head and instant mocking scowl. “But without you, the duke would be locked up in an institution. And I would be dead. So, I thank you.”
He seemed to absorb her words, the scowl fading rapidly. In its place settled unmistakable reticence. Mr. Marsden clasped his hands behind his back and straightened his shoulders, looking awfully uncomfortable.
“Yes well, I should apologize for my behavior when we first met. I shouldn’t have been so short-tempered or brusque. I judged you too quickly.”
She could understand why, now that she knew of the bitter and chaotic break between him and Lord Neatham. How could she blame him for his prejudices, really, when he had suffered total exile for an act she could not—did not—believe he committed?
“I know people like me haven’t been kind to you,” she whispered.
“They aren’t like you at all.” The rejoinder was so quick, it could only be heartfelt. Audrey warmed as she met Mr. Marsden’s earnest stare, then looked toward the front hall.
“I should go,” she said, refusing to name the sudden stab in her breast or the sour dip of her stomach.
Mr. Marsden let her reach the open door to the foyer before he spoke. “Thank you. For trusting me.”
Audrey knew he did not just mean with Philip’s case. She’d revealed a part of herself to him that had frightened her for so long. Ever since her commitment at Shadewell, and the betrayal she’d felt from her mother and uncle, and even her sister, she had feared anyone else knowing of her affliction. And yet, Mr. Marsden now knew and treated her no differently. A part of her wished he would have at least been a little cruel or condescending. It would have given her a reason to dislike him, to regret baring herself to him. Instead, she now felt a reluctance at leaving for Fournier Downs that had nothing to do with the loss of London society.
A smile trembled to her lips before she cut her eyes from the Bow Street officer and left the room. Greer came to her side at once, and together they left number 19 Bedford Street.
She thought it unlikely that she would ever have another opportunity to encounter Officer Hugh Marsden. As Carrigan helped her into the brougham, Audrey wasn’t certain if it was relief or regret making her impatient to be in the country.
“To Violet House, Your Grace?” Carrigan inquired.
She took one last look at the windows of Mr. Marsden’s home and gave a nod.
* * *
