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CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
“Are you sure you did not want to go with your wife this evening?” Simon asked. Fergus could feel Simon’s gaze on him, even as he looked out over the dark garden.
“Why would I want to attend a social event?” Fergus asked defensively.
“You have been staring out that window for hours.”
“I have not even been here for hours.” Simon shifted in his seat. Distracted by the sound, Fergus glanced over his shoulder and met Simon’s skeptical gaze.
“I do not think you are being honest with yourself,” Simon pressed.
“What good does it do?” Fergus asked, finally coming away from the window. Sitting down across from Simon by the fireplace, he slung his arm over the back of the couch. “Even if a little part of me wished to go, I would still face the ridicule.That thought quickly erases any desire that I might have had.”
“How about a drink?” Simon suggested, standing.
“Sounds great right now,” Fergus agreed. Simon stepped over to the decanter they kept in the library, full of premium Scotch. As soon as he started pouring the first glass, the sound of a carriage speeding up the drive caused them to snap their heads up.
“Who could that be?” Simon asked, putting the decanter back down.
Fergus stood back up, ready to meet whoever raced toward the house. Simon followed him out into the hall. By the time they reached the stairs, the butler had reached the door, but the door slammed open, causing the butler to stagger back.
“Fergus!” Edwina rushed into the house, eyes wide with panic, surprised Fergus.
“What are you doing back so soon?” he asked. Seeing Edwina so scared frightened him, causing his pulse to start pounding in his veins. “Did something happen?”
“Fergus, you are in terrible danger!” Edwina cried, rushing up to him.
“Calm down,” he said, partially to her but partially to himself as well. He took her hands firmly and found she was trembling. “What happened?”
“Where were you last night?” she asked bluntly, avoiding his question.
“What is this about?” he asked confused. He frowned, trying to search her face to understand her questioning.
“I need to know where you were!” she cried.
Fergus looked to Simon desperately, who only shrugged his shoulders in response. Fergus looked back to his wife. “Why do you need to know?” he asked. She jerked away from him, pressing her hand to her forehead. Her chest continued to rise and fall in short pants.
“Fergus, darling,” she said, at last, turning back to him. “A lady was attacked last night, leaving a party. She said it was the Monster of London.”
Realization hit Fergus in the chest like a brick, and he scoffed out loud.
“Listen!” Edwina protested adamantly. “She says her attacker dressed like a gentleman and had scars on his face.”
“Of course,” Fergus breathed, laughing. “Of course!”
“This is not funny!” Edwina exclaimed, looking to Simon for help. “Simon, I am terribly worried that they will think it is him!”
“Of course, they think it is me!” Fergus cried in response. Edwina reeled back from his outburst. “My terrible scars and my reclusive behavior — of course, they think I am some monster, capable of attacking women in dark streets. I must be so depraved, so evil, so deprived of human affection that I must force myself upon unsuspecting ladies.”
“Fergus, you need to listen to me,” Edwina interjected, trying to grasp his arm.
“Edwina, please, stop!” Fergus cried desperately. Edwina fell quiet, and Fergus looked from Simon to the butler. “May I have a few moments alone with my wife?”
Simon bowed stiffly to Fergus, heading down the hall with the butler, both of whom threw furtive glances over their shoulders. Once Fergus thought they were out of earshot, he looked back to Edwina. “I am not surprised that I would be accused of some heinous crime due to my appearance. These people are cruel and hypocritical and love torturing those that are different from them.”
“But –” Edwina tried to interrupt, but Fergus shook his head.
“You want me to open up?” he asked, stepping closer to her. “You want to know why I am so bitter? You know your lovely friend, Leticia?”
