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“Yes,” he agreed. There was no denying it. Being a prostitute was hardly a safe position and there were men who would think her an easy target. After all, who would miss a whore?
“I hate men,” she muttered.
“Ah.” After that experience and hearing of what happened to Daisy Miller, he did not much like men either at present. Add in the blackguard who had dishonored his sister and those friends who turned their back on his father, and there weren’t many he liked.
“Why must we be so worthless? Why are we merely there to be torn down?” Her voice wavered.
His throat tightened. There was more to this than what had happened to a woman she did not know. He should have known when she spoke of her husband.
“You are not worthless,” he assured her, his voice husky. The words were useless but she needed to know. “You are intelligent, and loyal, and caring, and damned quick-witted. But never worthless.”
She kept her lashes lowered and she wrapped her arms about herself. “I do not think many men would agree.” Her gaze lifted to his. “Goodness, you did not even like me when we first met. You thought me vapid, I know it.”
Valentine grimaced. He had, there was no denying it, and he hadn’t cared if she knew it. He’d judged her before knowing her and he regretted it now. He could apologize—on his behalf and on the behalf of the entirety of his sex, but he did not believe it would fix this.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly.
She shook her head and swayed slightly toward him. He smiled slightly. Strong woman that she was would never admit it, but she needed his touch. Who would have thought it? The reclusive Earl of Kendall offering out…hugs. He took her in his arms and pressed her head to his chest.
She sniffled, then lifted her head to eye him, her brow furrowed. “You do not smell of Floris anymore.”
“I ran out,” he lied. After all, he could hardly admit he’d thrown the stuff away the moment she’d declared a disliking for it now, could he?
