It was enough to stop that self-indulgent urge to pour out his feelings. She needed his protection, his friendship. She did not want anything else, not yet. He had months to build her trust, her...affection. ‘I was working with Fitcham. That is rarely entertaining. Did you drive here in your aunt’s carriage?’
‘Am I so totty-headed that I remember a veil but forget the crests on the doors, you mean? No, I did not. I walked.’ She ignored the exasperated sound he made and swept on. ‘There is something important I have to tell you, Will.’ She hesitated. ‘Two things. Roderick—’
So that air-headed cousin of hers had opened his big mouth, had he? This situation went from bad to worse. ‘I do not want to hear them, Verity. I want you out of here, safely at home. I am dealing with this.’
For a second he thought that she was going to sit down, then that she was going to faint. ‘Dealing with what?’
‘The talk in the clubs.’
‘What talk in the clubs? I thought... The ladies all seem to accept that I was blameless. That we were both the victims of an accident and there is nothing scandalous.’
Hell and damnation. ‘Nothing. I was speaking of something else.’
‘No, you were not. Tell me.’ She swept up to him, toe to toe, took his upper arms and tried to shake him. Will stood stock-still, feeling like a bull terrier being threatened by a mouse. A very fierce, brave mouse. ‘Tell me. Or I swear I’ll ask Roderick, because it is something he knows, isn’t it? You thought he had told me something.’
‘You said his name.’ Will was playing for time and they both knew it.
‘I was going to say I would have asked for his escort, but he is away for a few days.’ She did not move and the force of her grip on his arms was almost painful.
Now he was so close he could see those signs of strain far more clearly. Was it possible that she had lost weight in the few days since he had seen her? He wanted to kiss her, hold her, sweep her up in his arms and take her away from all this. Verity should be cherished, nurtured—and argued with.
‘The sensible ladies have taken their lead from Lady Fairlie and Her Majesty. The clubs...the clubs are full of men who enjoy scandal, especially sexual scandal. They have been talking, speculating. There are no wagers in the betting books, none of them would risk me calling them out, I think. But I will put a stop to the talk.’
‘I see.’ Verity released his arms, turned and walked away. ‘I had no idea. What a...nuisance I am to you. But there is something else I must tell you about. Thomas Harrington—’
‘I do not want to hear it from you,’ he said harshly, cutting her off. Verity should not have to mention that man, should not have to confess her past to him as though she owed him an explanation, required his forgiveness.
She turned slowly, her face as white as paper now. ‘Why not? What do you know?’
‘It is disgraceful,’ Will said, hearing all the banked anger he was feeling for the man harshen his voice. He stamped down on it, forced it back. Letting his fury loose now would affect his judgement and he needed to handle this delicately if he was to draw Harrington’s teeth. ‘Thoroughly sordid. We will not speak of it.’
‘And yet you will deal with the talk in the clubs for me.’ There was as little colour in her voice as her face now.
‘I promised I would help you.’
‘Because you were my friend. Yes. I understand. I will go now.’ She turned, picked up her reticule from the chair.
Will opened the door to the hall. ‘Escort this lady wherever she wishes to go. Good day, Ver—ma’am.’
‘Good day.’
* * *
So he knew. Knew about her affaire, knew about Thomas. And it had made him angry and disgusted. To the man she loved she was a disgrace, her story a sordid one.
She was not going to cry, not here on the street. Not anywhere. If she gave way to tears and shame and lamentations she would be worse than useless and she still had to deal with Thomas before she escaped back to Dorset and the Old Palace and Papa.
‘Thank you,’ she said to the footman when they were within a hundred yards of the turning. ‘I am almost home now.’
He hesitated, but Will had worded his orders carefully. This was where the lady wished to go. The man bowed and set off back the way he had come. Verity waited until he was out of sight, then continued on her way, the maid silent at her heels.
How could she deal with Thomas before he caused damage to Will, untold distress to her father? Her own reputation, Verity realised, hardly mattered now. She loved Will and she was not going to marry him, so there would never be anyone else.
Murder, bribery... No, even if she had the slightest idea how one secured the services of an assassin, she knew she could not kill. To save a life, perhaps—although she hoped if it ever came to that it would not result in anyone’s death—but not in cold blood, even if the victim was a cold-blooded reptile himself.
Bribery. Verity considered that as she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. Thomas was greedy and venal. He would certainly be tempted from vengeance by a large enough bribe, but it would be like paying blackmail. One payment would never be enough, he would come back for more, again and again.
She let Molly take her pelisse and hat and changed her shoes, put her hair in order, all the time thinking about Thomas. If she let herself think about Will, then she was going to throw herself on the bed and howl, and there would be more than enough time for that later.