Page 88 of Redemption

“No, I have more than enough to recommend the case be closed,” Inspector Graves said. “I appreciate your assistance in concluding my investigation.”

The man bowed in her direction then quickly skirted Percy and darted out of the room. As Rhea watched the man leave, she experienced amusement as well as relief at the inspector’s departure. In the next instant, a wave of trepidation washed over her as she looked at Percy. The last time she’d seen him had been three days ago when he’d found her in Ruckley’s rooms. Her memories of the moments after Ruckley’s and Edgar’s deaths were a jumble of images and fear. The fear was what she remembered more than anything. But she also remembered what she’d said to him. Nothing had changed that.

“You should be resting,” Percy said quietly.

There was a strained note in his voice and she turned away from to pick up the shawl she’d dropped on the chair and began to fold it in to a neat square. Aunt Beatrice had said he’d come by at least twice a day since the night at the Bull and Hare. Was the man blind to scandal surrounding her involvement with Ruckley? Aunt Beatrice had tried to hide the papers from her, but she’d insisted Bessie bring them to her. The reports of what happened at Ruckley’s had started out as a small article buried deep in the paper, but then someone had made a connection, and it had reached the scandal sheets

“Aunt Beatrice tells me you’ve been a constant visitor.”

“You sound surprised,” he said with a hint of irritation. Rhea looked over her shoulder to see him scowling at her.

“I am under the circumstances.” A sudden chill skated over her, and she moved to stand in front of the fire. Hands extended toward the flames, she tried to warm her hands.

“And what circumstances are you referring to?” he said with a notable amount of frustration. With a shake of her head, Rhea sighed and turned to face him.

“Surely you’re not going to stand there and tell me you’ve not seen the papers.”

“I read the paper every day,” he said in a silky tone of voice. “Is there anything particular I should be taking note of? A new bill in Parliament? The price of wheat falling?”

“Don’t be absurd,” she snapped. “You know good and well what I’m talking about.”

“If anyone is being absurd, it’s you.”

“You are a blind man, Percy Rockwood.”

“When it comes to a certain, Miss Rhea Bennett, I would agree whole-heartedly,” he replied.

“Then you’re a fool.”

She worked hard to keep her voice as cold and brutal as she could. His gaze narrowed, and he took a step toward her. Instantly, she recoiled, certain that if he were to embrace her it would be impossible not to cling to him as if he were a life raft in a choppy sea.

“No, I’m simply a man who doesn’t care what the rest of the world thinks.”

“And I’m a woman who does.”

“Why?” The single word question made her jerk, and she stared at him in confusion. When she didn’t answer, he shook his head. “I asked you why, Rhea.”

“Because I have no desire to drag more names through the mud,” she bit out in desperation. Surely the man could see that she was trying to save him and his family from being associated with a woman who was a known killer.

“I wasn’t aware the streets were muddy as we’ve not had any rain in several weeks.”

“Now, you’re being deliberately obnoxious.”

“Actually, I think I’m being quite patient.”

“For a Rockwood, I imagine that must be quite difficult,” she snapped.

“Indeed,” he said. “Particularly when the woman I love is allowing people who are unimportant dictate her happiness—our happiness.”

“This isn’t about my happiness,” she exclaimed as her heart skipped a beat.

“If not yours, then whose?”

The gentleness in his voice made her heart twist in her chest. His resolute expression said he was determined to convince her otherwise. Worse, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep fighting him. She shook her head and turned back to the fire. Staring into the flames, she blinked fast to prevent tears from falling. If he were to realize how difficult it was for her not to run to him, he would press the issue. She couldn’t let him do that. The man needed saving from himself.

Any association with her would damage far more than he realized. As his mistress it would be difficult enough for him. But if he married her it would be impossible for him to go anywhere without people whispering. The scandal wouldn’t affect just him. It would impact the entire Rockwood family. She’d killed two men, and the circumstances weren’t just tawdry, they were deplorable.

Everyone would believe the worst, and even then what people thought would never compare to the reality of who she was. Why couldn’t she make him understand that? Couldn’t he see that the redemption she’d thought Ruckley’s death would give her was a façade? She’d saved those she loved, but she’d not erased what she was.