He stared at her, stunned. She’d been a presence in his life for six years, ever since she’d contacted him about the letters. He’d no idea how deep the connection ran. He felt as if he were sitting next to a stranger.
“You were so angry as a young man. And then, you went to the Peninsula and came home even more haunted. Even less interested in, as you put it, dredging up the past.”
Naturally. His past was fetid and still as, well—he snorted—bilgewater.
“Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?” he asked.
“I’ve told you everything I know connected to your past.”
“Have you anything to do with the connection between Mr. Vane and Miss Wainwright?”
“I think that’s a question best asked of Miss Wainwright. I have never discussed your secrets with her. And I don’t intend to discuss hers with you.”
Which wasn’t an answer. “Then you should expect me to apply to her for the truth.” He cocked his head. “Does the Blackbird have anything to do with this?”
She hesitated and cocked her head. “Only in so far as I hoped, let’s say, she might wake you up.”
He laughed bitterly. “You used her.”
“Shame, Adrian.” Bessie withdrew her hand. “I would never use anyone. Hers was a unique situation. Like most, she came to me with a need. Unlike others, I asked her, in turn, to aid me with a problem.”
“Me.”
“You.”
He rubbed his palms along his thighs.
While returning from the Peninsula was an ongoing adjustment, the itch had been what had tormented. A childhood condition that had returned…
“When did Vane first appear at the Den?”
“Six months ago.”
As he’d thought…about the same time his skin had been tormenting him. About the same time he’d started prolonging his miserable existence one meeting with the Skylark at a time.
Then, the Blackbird.
Whom he, too, had used.
The Blackbird had been right to preemptively reject him.
He feared Eliza would make the same choice, when he offered.
However, he still intended to offer. If anyone could come to understand his past and be trusted to know and protect his secrets, it was Eliza Wainwright.
But before he unburdened his heart, he needed to unburden his conscience.
“Bessie, I need to see the Blackbird again.”
Bessie hand twitched—a sign of surprise. “I told you she is not interested in you.”
“Please ask.” He took her hand in his. “One last time. For me.”
