Page 74 of An Honorable Deception
She took a spoonful of crème brûlée and raised it to her lips. She almost wished she didn’t have such a skill, that she’d had no cause to learn to tell when a man spoke kindness and meant deception. But she did.
The custard was silk on her tongue, but she could scarcely taste it.
Mama didn’t even pick up her spoon. She offered a taut smile and pushed back from the table. “I appreciate your support in this matter, Lord Fairfax. And trust that my decision will be respected. Now if you’ll please excuse me.” She rested a hand on Alethia’s shoulder—it trembled, and Alethia suddenly realized that the pinched look on her face now, the one she so often wore during what sounded like casual conversations, was to hold back tears. “I’ve a bit of a headache. I think I had better lie down—but do come in to say good night, dearest. Will you?”
Alethia looked up into her glassy blue eyes. Felt the tremble in her fingers. And gave her a smile she hoped was reassuring. Because though she intended to ignore her mother’s insistence, Fairfax was right. It was a respectable stance. It was the right stance for a mother to take. “Yes, Mama. I hope you feel better.”
She waited until she heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs before she set her own spoon down. “I’ll do whatever needs done.”
She expected glances of relief. A nod. A few furtive glances up toward where her mother would be, regret mixed with determination.
Instead, her friends didn’t even need to exchange looks, it seemed. Fairfax simply said, “No. Your mother’s wishes will be respected.”
“But—”
“It is a parent’s prerogative to keep her child as safe as she can,” Marigold said. She held her husband’s gaze, a world of meaning flying between them in a heartbeat. “If it were our child volunteering to do something so potentially dangerous, we would object too.”
“And make certain she respected the foot we put most decisively down.” Sir Merritt nodded, then moved his gaze to her. “We knew this was a likely obstacle.”
They looked calm, every one of them. Contemplative. Unperturbed by that obstacle. Perhaps that was a good sign. “There is another plan, then?”
“Not yet. But the Imposters are a clever bunch. They’ll come up with something.” Fairfax, she only then realized, didn’t even have a pudding before him, nor did his sister. And he gave only a cursory glance at the state of everyone else’s before he stood. “Library, as you can.” He met her gaze. “You too, my lady, if you will. Your advisement will be most welcome, even if you must defer from active participation in the show.”
As if crème brûlée held any allure now? She stood quickly, as did everyone else. Fairfax had already charged from the room, his mind occupied with things other than social niceties, and Lavinia had darted out after him. Most evenings there was a bit of a joking race between him and Lord Xavier to see who would reach Alethia’s side and offer her a supportive arm first, but Xavier moved no less quickly now, even without the contest.
She smiled up at him and took his arm. He had been all conscientious attention since he’d arrived. It must be in largepart the little competition he and Fairfax had fallen good-naturedly into—how many times had Mama told her that men enjoyed a chase, and all the better if there were other men they could best in it? Even so, their dueling smiles had soothed a few ragged edges, even if Fairfax sent far more glances to Lavinia than he ever did to her. A fact her new friend didn’t even seem to notice, though she snuck her own fair share athim.
There were good men in the world. Men who looked at her with affection and respect. Men who hadn’t sneered and turned away when they realized that someone else had treated her in a way no man should. Men who didn’t think less of her becausehehad.
Some part had always thought that if others knew the truth, if ever she breathed the wordsmy uncle repeatedly tried to attack me as a childaloud, then the assumption would be that she had deserved the attack. It wasn’t logical—she knew that. Samira had whispered over and again that it wasn’t her fault, wasn’t her sin, wasn’t her blame to bear. She knew that God in His goodness loved her and had promised to make whole anythinghehad robbed her of.
But the fear had been lingering ever since, sleeping in her veins, whispering doubts in her ear every time a gentleman had smiled at her during the Season.If he knew how worthless you are, he would walk away. If he’d seen you huddling in that wardrobe, he’d turn in disgust. If ever you tried to tell him the truth, he’d run off in horror.
And even worse,He could be like him. He could deceive you, and you’d never know it. Not until he hurt your child. Seeing the way her uncle had glared at her more and more as the Season wore on had only made it worse. A new fear to add to the old ones.He’ll never let you go. Never let you marry. He’ll be too afraid that you’ll tell his secret. As longas you’re under the Barremore roof, he knows he can control you . . . but if you leave?
That was why he’d taken Samira. To prove to her that she wouldneverbe beyond his power, never be beyond the reach of his arm. As long as Samira lived, he could control them.
And he was right—and wrong too. Because others now knew the secret. And those others were determined to help her.
Zelda had been right. He’d win when she held her tongue—but when she dared to speak up ... maybe he wouldn’t. For the first time, it was possible that he’dlose.
She made no objection when Xavier pulled her arm more snuggly through his and walked close beside her down the corridor, letting the others outpace them. Once the Whartons and the Livingstones had followed Fairfax and Lavinia into the library, he leaned even closer.
“Before I publicly blow their cover and get myself exiled ... youhaveput it together, correct? Who they are?” He nodded toward the open door, his words spoken in a hush.
Not exactly the sweet nothings she’d rather hoped he might say as he held them back, but there were more pressing concerns than romance, she supposed. “The Imposters, you mean?” Lips turning into a smile, she nodded. “I thought I’d let them keep up the charade. I do realize that anonymity is their byword in most cases.”
“That has always been my tack as well, but I daresay the coming conversation will be much simpler if they know they can dispense with the ‘Mr. A and his colleagues say...’ nonsense.”
He had an excellent point. If they kept up their current pattern, claiming that they would send their ideas to the investigator and await his thoughts on the matter, it wouldmean more delay. Far better to admit that they were the ones making the decisions. “Agreed.”
“Good.” The smile he sent her felt like more than an agreement to his own plan, more than a minor conspiracy to unveil England’s most elite investigators. It felt like a promise of another conversation to come.
They entered the room to find that someone had tacked a series of blueprints to the walls where maps usually resided, along with diagrams and sketches whose purpose she couldn’t even begin to guess.
“If I may make a motion before we begin,” Xavier said the moment they’d cleared the threshold, her arm still woven through his. He glanced down at her. “She’s a clever girl, she’s already sorted it out. You may as well speak freely and save yourselves time and energy.”
Marigold sighed in clear relief, nodding. Lavinia shot Alethia a grin.
