Grandfather had alluded to my mother in similar terms. A woman of easy virtue.
“I wish I could find a suitable cave and hide away in it for all eternity. Promise me you will guard the bedroom door and let no one in. No one, Freddy. I don’t want to see a single soul.”
She shook her head. “You cannot hide away, Kit. We cannot allow our mistakes, nor the evil of others, to define our path or our identity. The ton have far greater scandals to hide. It’s simply easier for them to point to others than examine their own black hearts.”
Her words might be true, but they offered no comfort.
Perhaps I drifted into a fretful sleep, but dimly, I thought I heard the rustle of her skirt as she went to the door and opened it a crack.
“She will not see any visitors. I don’t know what to do for her, other than pray. Tell me what to do, please. How can I help her?”
A rumbling voice ... Edward’s? Or was it Sebastian’s?
I didn’t know. I was simply too grief-stricken to care.
20:Sebastian
Having heard all of this you may choose to look the other way, but you can never again say you did not know.
WILLIAM WILBERFORCE
I had kissed Kitty Grenville. And I wanted more.
Not with the easy appetite of a rake, but with the desperation of a man who had seen her pain—and longed to comfort.
And now I had to leave.
The carriage rocked across Westminster Bridge, its wheels clattering over the cobbles in a rhythm that echoed my unrest. Fog hung low over the Thames, cloaking the abbey’s towers in a gray shroud, as if all of London conspired to keep its secrets hidden.
I had gone to see her. I wanted to explain, to ask how she fared, to tell her that I had fallen in love with her.
But would she believe me? For once, I wished I had not been so blunt about my grandfather’s threats to secure my inheritance. Would she ever believe that I truly cared for her?
Earlier this morning, Fredericka had answered the door with a polite, unshakable firmness, saying Miss Grenville was resting and not receiving callers. I hadn’t pressed. I couldn’t.
Kitty had every right to retreat. I had offered her a moment of comfort—but I had also taken something, perhaps too soon.
I told myself I’d given her a choice. A way out of this marriage forced upon her. But perhaps I’d only made everything harder.
I smoothed down the cuffs of my coat and stepped from the carriage.
Inside the Parliament building, lords gathered in murmuring clusters, pretending they hadn’t already made up their minds. The matter at hand: the East India Company’s expanding influence—and whether reform might finally curb the growth of an enterprise.
Mr. Wilberforce had written to me again, requesting my presence. Charles Grant had seconded the idea.A Sinclair will lend weight,he’d said.You’ve been there. Seen the realities in India.
Rubbing my temples, I thought of Grandfather’s letter—written in haste shortly after I had left Calcutta. Already Julien had complicated matters. Yet I could not reveal the potential crisis calling me home. Julien was nothing more than an irresponsible youth—just as I had been. With enough care, he might change. I had to believe he could change.
Mr. Wilberforce greeted me with warm eyes and a weary smile, a sheaf of parchment in hand. “You’ve come. Good. The members respect your family’s name—even if several do not trust the Company.”
I inclined my head. “I’ll speak honestly, sir.”
I rose when my name was called, palms lightly damp, though I hardly noticed. The words had already settled into me.
“My lords,” I began, voice echoing across the chamber. “I’ve returned from Calcutta where my family oversees trade. The Company’s presence there is undeniable, as is its prosperity. We employ thousands, provide infrastructure, and maintain a certain order in the regions under our stewardship.”
A few nods.
Mr. Wilberforce folded his arms with a frown.
