She stopped, and they stared at one another for a long moment.She knows what I am planning,he realized.Somehow, she knows.
At last, she turned away. “I should get back to these letters.”
“I will leave you.”
He was at the door when she spoke again, her back still to him, her voice sad and quiet.
“I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” she murmured. “I wish you could see that you are enough as you are.”
Winston did not respond before he swept from the room.
Winston left the next morning. It was raining when his horse was brought up, and Vanessa watched from the window of her bedchamber as he looked left and then right as he mounted it, as if checking to see that no one was watching him.
Her heart felt heavy. She did not know exactly what Winston was up to, but she had a terrible feeling that he was going to try and avenge himself, once again, on Lord Egerton. If her suspicions were right, and he really was one of the Vigilantes, then this was an especially bad idea. The Bow Street Runners were after them, and they would probably be on high alert. And if he were arrested, she did not know what would happen next.
Langdon’s letter came back to her, and she shuttered.Your husband will not always be around to protect you. And when he abandons you to pursue his vengeance, then I will make sure you are mine forever after.
How had he known that this would happen? It gave her a very uneasy feeling, a prickling sensation down her spine like she was being watched.
If only she could have made Winston stay… She feared what might happen with him gone. Maybe if she had shown him the letter, he might have decided to stay, but then she feared he would go after Langdon. Either way, she feared it would end in his arrest.
Anyway, there was some darkness in him that Vanessa could not tame. Some thirst for revenge that she did not understand and could not shake from him. Maybe he was right… Maybe he would come back a better husband if he allowed himself to do this thing.
More likely, he would never come back, and she would be left all alone.
It was a miserable day, and she spent most of it trying to distract herself by coming up with a list of things she could do as the Duchess of Thornfield. She had not forgotten her desire to do something meaningful in the role, but she could not think of anything—she was too distracted by thoughts of what might be happening with Winston if he was going to try and kill Lord Egerton.
At last, she gave up and went into the parlor, where she sat on a divan and unhooked the locket from her neck, opening it up in front of her so that she could look at the portrait of her husband inside.
He was adorable as a child, she thought, gazing down at the portrait of him. Is that what our child would look like, if we were to have one? But that would require her husband to actually want to live as man and wife. That would require him to let go of this vendetta he had and choose her, and happiness, instead.
She looked over at the other side of the locket. What did Clementine look like? She wondered. If we were to have a daughter, would she look like her? She had never seen any portraits of Clementine around the house, and she wished she had not removed her portrait.
What a strange thing to do.
Vanessa peered closer at the empty side of the locket. The place where the portrait should be was covered with white paper, but as Vanessa looked closer, she thought she saw something through the paper. Dark scratches, like someone had written something on the other side of the paper.
Vanessa’s heart began to race. Is there something written on the other side? Carefully, she raised her fingers and began to try and pry the paper out of the locket. It was difficult, and the paper was delicate, and she was afraid it would rip.
“Come on,” she muttered to herself. “Come out!”
But just as it was coming loose, there was a knock on the parlor door, and the butler came in. He looked nervous, and he was wringing his hands as he bowed to Vanessa. She hastily closed the locket and fastened it back around her neck.
“Your Grace,” he said, “a man from the Bow Street Runners is here.”
At once, Vanessa’s heart leapt into her throat. A million thoughts and speculations whirled through her head.He is here to tell me my husband is dead! He is here to tell me Winston has been arrested! He wants to question me when I am alone!
She wanted to tell the butler to send him away, but she knew she could not. That would only look more suspicious.
Standing, she brushed off her skirts. “Show him in,” she murmured.
The butler nodded and left, and moments later, a man strode into the parlor.
But it was not a constable of the Bow Street Runners who entered the room. It was Lord Langdon.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Do not move, Your Grace,” Lord Langdon murmured as he stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot. “Nor would I recommend screaming for help. I am armed.”
