Dorothy’s gaze fixed on some distant horizon. Unbelievably Nell heard a trace of her sister’s old conceit. “A great gentleman. A man who could give me everything I wanted.”
“Everything except a wedding ring,” Nell said sharply, unable to reconcile Dorothy’s boasting with this pain and disgrace.
Tears filled Dorothy’s eyes. “I knew you and Papa would scold. That’s why I said I’d been forced.”
Despairingly, Nell stared at this wayward girl she loved so much. Dorothy was seven years younger, more child than sister. When Nell was five, her soldier father had died fighting the French. Widowed Frances Trim had then married the considerably older William Simpson, as much to provide security for her daughter Nell as for companionship. Since Frances’s death ten years ago, Nell had cared for her half-sister like a mother.
“Oh, Dorothy,” Nell said, a world of regret in the words. She could hardly bear her guilt at failing to keep a closer eye on her sister.
Convulsively Dorothy clutched Nell’s hand. “Don’t be cross.”
“I’m cross with the man who did this to you.” That was an understatement. She’d like to see the wretch hanged.
Before this unknown blackguard had got his filthy paws on her, Dorothy had been an innocent, although easily flattered. A man wouldn’t need much town polish to convince Dorothy, who’d never been past Canterbury, of his credentials as a lord.
“Good,” Dorothy said with venom, her face as white as the pillowcases.
For a terrifyingly long time, Dorothy lay still. Nell’s heart slammed to a stop, only to resume beating when Dorothy drew a rattling breath. She was alive. Just.
“I want you to…” A coughing fit interrupted. Every word sounded like her last.
“Don’t talk,” Nell said, although she was frantic to know who had wronged this beautiful, vibrant girl.
Dorothy’s words emerged in a breathless tumble. “Find him and expose him to the world as a villain.”
“But who—” Nell began.
“Promise me.” Dorothy struggled up on her elbows, the effort draining what little strength remained. “He said he’d marry me. He said he’d take me to his house and set me up like a queen.”
She started to cough again. Nell released her and poured some water, but drinking only made Dorothy choke. “Rest now.”
Petulantly Dorothy struck away the glass, spilling water on the sheets. “When I told him about the baby, he laughed. Laughed and called me a brainless slut.”
Nell winced at the language, even as her anger focused on this devil. “I’m so sorry.”
“He has… a book.” Dorothy closed her eyes, gathering herself. This time, Nell didn’t interrupt. For the peace of her soul, Dorothy needed to speak. “A diary of his seductions. Girl after girl. All set out neatly as stories in a newspaper.”
“Oh, my dear…” This spiteful betrayal horrified Nell. “Why on earth would he show you that? That’s needlessly cruel.”
“He was proud of it. Proud of all the women he’d ruined.” Her voice thickened with tears. “If you find that book, you can destroy him.”
“But how?”
Dorothy became agitated. “Just don’t tell Papa. Please.”
“I won’t, darling.” Grief split Nell’s heart at this fleeting glimpse of the sweet child she’d once been. “But where can I find this book?”
Dorothy breathed in shallow gasps. “Go to his house.”
“His house?” Was Dorothy delirious? “Where is his house?”
“You’ll find it.” Dorothy drew a shuddering breath. “You’re clever, too clever to believe a man’s lies.” Lower still. “If only I’d been as clever.”
Acid tears stung Nell’s eyes. Over recent years, Nell’s cleverness had inspired Dorothy’s resentment rather than admiration. If Nell or William mentioned propriety or prudence, Dorothy had flounced away, convinced that her family was hopelessly hidebound. “Who did this to you?”
Dorothy opened glazed eyes and her grip tightened to bruising. “Swear you’ll find that diary and expose this monster for what he is.”
Her half-sister’s desperation sliced at Nell. “Of course I swear. Tell me the man’s name.”