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"How deplorable! I never imagined ..." Reflexively, Sammy squeezed Cynthia's hand, totally forgetting her own harrowing ordeal in lieu of this poor woman's plight.
Cynthia stared down at Sammy's smooth hand clasping her own work-worn one, a blunt reminder of the differences in their stations, the futures that awaited them. Suddenly all the repressed pain of the past weeks converged and exploded, sliding down Cynthia's cheeks in a bitter flow of tears. "Forgive me ... I don't normally weep in front of total strangers."
"I'm not a stranger—you just saved my life," Sammy reminded her. "And I, too, am a good listener."
Bleakly, Cynthia studied Sammy's earnest face. "You're a sheltered, innocent little thing. Nobly bred, of course. My story is not for your ears."
"Who forces you to service these men?" Sammy demanded.
"Circumstances. The unshakable power of the nobility."
"Cynthia... that is your name, isn't it? I heard that horrid"—she shuddered—"Gates person call you by it." Waiting only for a nod, Sammy continued, "I cannot deny my naiveté nor my heritage. But being titled does not preclude having a heart. I'd like to help. Truly."
"There's nothing you can do. The damage has already been done."
"Damage? What damage?" Sammy gripped Cynthia's hand tightly. "Tell me."
"Very well, my lady." Cynthia took a deep, shuddering breath. "I was born to a decent, hardworking family whose only misfortune was to be poor. Early on, I was encouraged to strive high, to be the first to emerge from my parents' poverty. To that end, I studied incessantly. I was elated when my hard work paid off. After but one application, I was hired as a governess at a magnificent estate in Surrey. The gentleman who hired me was wealthy, titled ... and very solicitous." Cynthia gave a hollow laugh. "How naive I was! I believed he was the kindest of men, devoted to his wife, interested in his children's well-being, and therefore in my suitability."
"He wasn't?"
"Oh, he was interested in my suitability, all right... but in the bedroom, not the nursery."
Sammy gasped. "He made advances?"
"He raped me."
All the color drained from Samantha's face. "Dear God. What did you do?"
"What could I do? I cried until I was hollow and dead inside. Then I packed and left."
"Who is this man? Surely he was arrested, or punished in some manner."
"As I said, you're a sheltered, innocent child. No, he wasn't punished; I was. He? He came to my room mere hours later, stunned to find me packing. He assured me there was no reason for me to leave, that I'd pleased him enormously and that I could continue to do so. How proud he looked, as if he were bestowing upon me the greatest of honors.
"When I became hysterical, sobbing out my hatred, my intentions to seek out another job at once, he laughed in my face. He then assured me that, after he was finished spreading the word of what a common trollop I was, no respectable family would hire me. He was right. Time and again I was turned away . . . as if I were unwanted refuse of some kind."
"What about your family?"
"My mother is gone now. My father is old, and very set in his ways. He wouldn't even listen to me."
"He thought you were lying?"
"It didn't matter. The end result was the same. I was ruined. What was done could not be undone. Then there was the matter of money. We had none. My wages as a governess was our only hope—a hope I had extinguished. My father couldn't bear the sight of me ... and I couldn't bear the guilt. So I ran."
"To Annie's?"
"Not right away. Not until I recognized the truth . . . that thanks to what that nobleman did to me, Annie's is all I'm suited for."
"Oh, Cynthia, don't say that." Sammy dashed the tears from her cheeks. "How long have you worked here?"
"A week ... the most torturous week of my life."
"Well, it's over now."
"Another week will begin."
"Not here it won't. At least not for you."
