The words struck with such force that she felt physically winded. "You forget yourself, sir," she said with more confidence than she felt.
"Do I?" He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. "No, Miss Bennet. I think it is you who have forgotten yourself. Respectable ladies do not spend nights in gentlemen's bedrooms. Only one type ofladydoes that."
"We have done nothing that needs to trouble your conscience." She lifted her chin, though her heart had begun to pound. "You presume very much."
"I merely recognise a charming lady when I see her. A charming lady who gives her favour… for a price. Or are you a fallen gentlewoman who enjoys a little adventure? I could give you plenty of adventure, my dear."
Before she could retreat he reached for her wrist. His grip was not painful, but firm enough that she could not immediately free herself. "Captain Henderson," she said, hating the note of pleading that had crept into her voice.
"There is no need to pretend with me. I have never been fond of simpering flowers. I prefer a lady of… experience."
"Release me."
Instead he drew her a fraction closer.
For one horrified second she simply stared at him, unable to believe she had so completely mistaken his character. "How dare you."
"Oh, come now—"
Before she fully understood what he intended, his hand tightened upon her arm and he dragged her towards him. His mouth came down hard upon hers. For one dreadful instant she froze.
Only hours before she had experienced her first kiss. Darcy's had been like a question she instinctively knew the answer to, so gentle it was like a breath against her lips, carrying with it a promise that he would never take what she did not willingly offer. This was nothing like that. Henderson's mouth was hard and insistent, heavy with stale tobacco and spirits. It was an act of possession, an invasion that filled her with revulsion.
She tore her face away. "No, unhand me." The shout echoed through the passage.
Henderson grabbed at her again.
"I said no!"
The next sound was not her voice but Henderson’s roar of surprise as his body jerked back, followed by the sickening crack of a fist meeting bone. Henderson staggered sideways into the wall with an oath, one hand flying to his jaw. Burke stood between them.
"I believe," he said with terrifying calm, "the lady has made herself perfectly plain."
Blood welled slowly from Henderson's split lip as he straightened, one hand pressed against his jaw. His eyes moved from Burke's broad frame to the expression upon his face and, for the first time since Elizabeth had made his acquaintance, there was no trace of easy confidence in them. Instead he seemed to be calculating whether he wished to continue the encounter.
"You struck an officer."
"I did." The reply was clipped and menacingly calm.
"You'll answer for that."
"I think, sir," Burke said, flexing his bruised hand, "that your first concern ought to be offering thanks that I stopped at one."
For a long moment Henderson said nothing. His pride plainly urged him towards retaliation, but his judgement proved stronger. Muttering a foul curse beneath his breath, he snatched up his hat from where it had fallen, cast Elizabeth one last poisonous look and strode from the passage with what dignity remained to him, though the hand clamped against his swelling jaw spoiled the effect.
Only when the sound of his footsteps had entirely disappeared did Burke's expression soften. He turned immediately to Elizabeth, who remained rooted to the spot, every part of her trembling so violently that she scarcely trusted her own legs to support her.
"Miss Bennet..."
The gentleness in his voice caused a sob to rise in her thought. She swallowed it down with difficulty. She shook her head before he could continue. "I am quite well."
It was an absurd thing to say. She was not hurt, not really. But she felt unclean in a way she had never imagined possible. Henderson's kiss still seemed to cling to her skin, and with it came an overwhelming tide of shame. She knew, somewhere beneath the confusion, that she had done nothing to deserve what had happened. Even so, another voice whispered that she had been foolish; that she had already behaved like a wanton, that this is what happened to women who gave away theiraffection outside the bounds of marriage. She had invited Darcy to her bed. If she had behaved with greater caution, greater reserve, perhaps none of it would have occurred.
Burke seemed to read the thoughts passing across her face. "Miss Bennet," he said quietly, "whatever you are thinking, dismiss it. Dismiss it entirely, Miss. You listen to me, I’ve been in the world a fair bit longer than you. This was not your doing."
Unable to endure another moment of his compassion, Elizabeth gathered her skirts and hurried away before Burke could stop her, before Darcy could appear, before anyone might look upon her and see the shame that she felt rushing from every pore.
Chapter Thirteen
