The pervading silence fed the restlessness within.
He had never felt more alone.
“Tell Sprocket that I wish to return to Park Street.” She did not look at him, but he felt the words like a sharp slap to the face.
Had Cassiel cast an evil spell that swallowed happiness, churned it up and spewed it out?
Twenty minutes ago, Valentine had been comforting her on Drake’s sofa. Now they were quarrelling about Miss Faversham. But this wasn’t about Miss Faversham’s duplicity. It was about the boy who feared he might one day wake up to find he’d inherited his father’s lunacy.
“It is not safe for you there.” Valentine knew what it was like to fear closing one’s eyes at night.
She turned her head slowly, struggled to hold his gaze. “It is not safe anywhere. And
you cannot take care of me forever.” She lowered the window and called up to Sprocket to relay her intentions before closing the window and sitting back in the seat.
Marry me.
That was all he needed to say. But he would tell her the truth about his past before gathering the courage to ask.
“Forgive me if I do not seem myself,” he began, laying down his sword to offer a truce.
She glanced at the window as if she had lost interest in the conversation.
“Being alone with Cassiel—” He paused. “Well, the man can play havoc with the mind.”
Her mask of indifference slipped. “I imagine he would struggle to unnerve a man with your strength and mental agility.”
“It has not always been the case.” It was not the case now. Thoughts of the past brought the fears of a weak and helpless boy to the fore. “Cassiel knew something from my past and sought to use it to weaken my stance.”
The information sparked her interest. “Did he succeed?”
Valentine sighed. “I think my mood since we settled into the carriage would suggest he achieved his goal.”
The scuffle on the stairs had given Valentine an outlet for his fury. Now, he needed another distraction if he hoped to banish the ghost of his father.
Ava swallowed visibly. “And what … what did he tell you?”
“He told me bad blood flows through my veins, too.” Valentine inhaled a deep breath. “He told me that I possess the same propensity for madness as my father.”
“Madness?” Ava frowned. She shuffled forward in the seat. “But that’s ridiculous. You’re the sanest, most rational man I have ever met.”
The compliment meant more to him than she could possibly know. Usually, words of praise and flattery failed to penetrate. He had heard enough falsehoods from fawning parasites to pay them no heed. And yet Aveline Kendall’s opinion touched him on a level he could not quite explain.
“My father suffered from a condition of the mind.” There were no words to express the debilitating nature of the illness—both for the patient and his family. “His behaviour was often irrational, unstable. By rights, he was a perfect candidate for Bedlam during his delusional episodes. But my mother chose to keep him at home.”
Ava covered her mouth with her hand as her breath came almost as quick as his. “It must have been difficult.” Compassion swam in her beautiful brown eyes. “How did you cope?”
Valentine couldn’t help but smile when he thought of his mother’s courage.
“Honora knew that if someone were to discover the truth it would taint our family name, would make it difficult for me making my way in the world. She cared for him, kept the secret hidden, made excuses when he was unwell, invited close friends to the house when my father was feeling his best.”
“Honora is loyal to a fault.”
Pride filled his chest when he thought of his mother’s sacrifice.
“Her life might have been different, but she loved him.”
“And she loves you. Very much.”