Page 71 of In the Midnight Hour

Much like how Hypatia’s marriage hadn’t seemed as though it would be horrible. It had been a reasonable arrangement. “You saw Sir Radnor as a kind, clever, and, dare I say, witty gentleman.” That’s how Hypatia had known him. Until the end.

“Yes,” Mrs. Jennings whispered.

Hypatia knew there was more, that she and Mrs. Jennings shared a similar experience. She wanted to make sure Mrs. Jennings felt comfortable sharing with her. “Sir Radnor overstepped with me. I feared for my safety, in fact.” She paused to take a breath and to try to convey trust and understanding to Mrs. Jennings. “Did that ever happen to you?”

Mrs. Jennings hesitated. Her gaze darted anxiously toward Northwood. Hypatia had completely forgotten he was there.

Time stretched, and Hypatia worried Mrs. Jennings wasn’t going to respond. And Hypatia more than understood her trepidation. She’d felt the same way, which was why she’d, perhaps stupidly, kept what had happened between her and Sir Radnor to herself.

Mrs. Jennings looked to Northwood. “Would you mind excusing us, please? I’m not comfortable discussing this in front of you.”

“Of course.” Northwood jumped up and looked at Hypatia. “I’ll wait in the coach.” Then he returned his attention to Mrs. Jennings. He bowed in a most gallant fashion and put his hand to his chest. “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Jennings. You strike me as a strong and brave woman.” He briefly met Hypatia’s gaze before he left, closing the door on his way out.

That simple act spoke volumes to Hypatia. Put with what he’d said to Mrs. Jennings, he’d demonstrated a level of care and thoughtfulness Hypatia hadn’t experienced from a man.

“May I ask how you and Lord Northwood became partners in this endeavor?” Mrs. Jennings asked.

“Strangely, he asked to help me prove my innocence. I didn’t know him at all a week ago. He only moved to the square within the past fortnight or so.”

“How fascinating. I wondered if the two of you might be more than investigative partners.”

“I suppose we’re becoming friends, but that is all.” Friends was a stronger word than she cared to use. Perhaps neighbors with a common interest. “I’m a content widow, and he’s the heir to an earldom.”

“We have much in common, I think,” Mrs. Jennings said with a small smile before taking a deep, steadying breath. “When Sir Radnor first mentioned marriage, he took my hand. I allowed him to do so and to kiss it.”

Mrs. Jennings stood, surprising Hypatia. Instead of pacing to the window again, she moved to sit where Northwood had been on the settee. Angling toward Hypatia, she took another long breath.

“I can’t say I’ve enjoyed being a widow,” Mrs. Jennings said with a weak smile. “I was devastated when my husband died. It was a shocking attack of his heart. Our children were young, though they’re adults now. Sir Radnor’s attention was not unwelcome, but I knew I would never feel drawn to him the way I’d been to my husband.”

“It sounds as though you had a wonderful marriage.” Hypatia hoped she didn’t sound envious. “My husband fell from his horse and hit his head. It was also a shocking death, but I wasn’t devastated. I was relieved.” Saying that last part out loud was not something Hypatia had ever done. She wondered why she felt comfortable sharing that with Mrs. Jennings.

“I’m sorry your experience was not what you’d hoped.” Mrs. Jennings’ brow creased with care.

“Our marriage was proposed by my parents,” Hypatia explained. “My husband’s cousin is a close friend of my father’s.”

“Can I take that to mean your husband was older than you?” Mrs. Jennings asked.

“Sixteen years. My mother assured me it wouldn’t matter. What was I to say? I was twenty at the time and believed my parents would ensure my future happiness.” The familiar slice of pain ran through her, but it had dulled through the years. “It wasn’t their fault. We were all wrong about Abel. Just as we were wrong about Sir Radnor.” She met Mrs. Jennings’ gaze. “We were wrong, weren’t we?”

Mrs. Jennings nodded slowly. “So very wrong.”

Hypatia waited a moment to see if she would explain. When she didn’t, she decided she would share her experience, and not just because she hoped it would prompt Mrs. Jennings to do the same. Hypatia recognized her as someone with whom she could share what happened, who would understand from a place of having experienced it too.

“Sir Radnor was overly fond of port. Was he like that when you knew him?”

Mrs. Jennings gave her a sheepish look. “Yes, and I’m embarrassed to say that on several occasions, I also imbibed too much. His port collection was rather wonderful.”

Hypatia nodded. “And dangerous. Last Friday was one of those nights when I allowed myself one glass of port too many. I was there very late as we debated whether Shakespeare was better enjoyed read or seen performed.”

“He all but ruined Shakespeare for me,” Mrs. Jennings said darkly. “But I’ve begun reading his plays again recently.”

“Good. I should hate to think Sir Radnor had taken anything from you,” Hypatia said fiercely. “On Friday evening, he went to refill his wineglass and on the way to the sideboard, he stopped by my chair and…touched me.” She hadn’t been entirely honest with Northwood. She couldn’t.

“How?” Mrs. Jennings asked in the barest whisper, her eyes wide with apprehension.

“He stroked my face, his fingertips lingering against my jaw. But it was the way he looked at me—with thoroughly lecherous and even malicious intent.” Hypatia shivered with revulsion as she recalled the completely unwanted interaction. “He wanted me to go upstairs with him to see a new manuscript. I was horrified—and shocked. His behavior was unlike anything he’d shown before. I was momentarily frozen. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move.” This was the part she truly hated to think about. “It reminded me of my husband,” she said quietly, tipping her gaze to her lap. “He behaved one way in front of everyone—charming, gregarious, captivating. Alone with me, he was cruel and…” Her voice trailed off. She preferred not to go any further back with the memories she’d worked so hard to bury.

Mrs. Jennings’ hand covered Hypatia’s. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.