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Alice smiled at Forster, and Nick had the entirely irrational thought that he should be the only person in the world to see her dimples.
Nick must have betrayed something of the direction of his thoughts on his face, because Forster pulled his timepiece from his waistcoat pocket. “I say, is that the time? I should be examining His Grace. It was a great pleasure, Lady Hatherly. I wish you the best of luck with your translation, and your travels.”
Forster bowed over her hand. Did he kiss it? Not quite. But too close for Nick’s tastes.
What’s wrong with you? He can kiss her hand. Why should you care?
“I’ll walk you to the door.” Nick tried not to growl, and failed.
“That won’t be necessary.” Forster took his leave swiftly.
Good man. Sensible man.
When he was gone, Nick turned to Alice, who looked fresh and pretty this morning in another simple gray gown with her hair pulled back in a loose knot.
He fought the desire to wrap his arms around her. She smelled so clean and wholesome. Like lavender and old parchment; a faintly rustling odor like the sound of a field of herbs ruffled by wind, or pages turning.
Then he noticed the warning blue light flashing in the depths of her eyes.
“Well?” She arched her eyebrows. “Do you have something you’d like to say to me?”
“Um... good morning?” His brain wasn’t working correctly. He was too exhausted.
Wrong answer.
Her lips clamped together. “I mean do you want to tell me where you’ve been all night?”
“I do want to tell you. But I can’t. Not yet.” He didn’t have all the details. Jane could be nobility. She could have a powerful, ruthless husband who would stop at nothing to regain control over her.
If that turned out to be the case, then the less Alice knew about Jane, the better.
Nick had witnessed too many lost souls committed to private asylums against their will. Left to die, lonely and chained.
Husbands who locked away their wives because it was more convenient than obtaining a divorce.
It made him so furious. And some of his emotion showed on his face.
Alice obviously interpreted his expression in the wrong way.
Red spots appeared high on her cheekbones.
Nick reached for her shoulders and drew her closer. “Alice, I’m so very tired. Can we speak of this in a few hours, after I’ve had some sleep?” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll explain everything later today. Trust me.”
“You keep asking me to trust you, Nick, but you won’t trust me. I’m your wife. I think I have a right to know where you’ve been all night. And what is the Yellow House? A brothel?”
“It’s not a brothel.” Nick battled for control.
She had helped care for Jane last night, and she did have a right to know more details, but he didn’t have those details yet to give.
Her fists curled tight at her sides. “If one of your friends has harmed her in some way and you’re keeping it quiet...”
He swiped a hand across his face, tension boiling in his blood. “Is that what you think of me? You truly think I could have something to do with her suffering? God, Alice. I’m a rake, not a monster.”
Doubt flooded her eyes. “But what am I to think? When gentlemen use young girls as playthings there are tragic outcomes. Charlene has told me all about the horrors. She has a sanctuary for girls like Jane, who’ve been mistreated by men. Used. Abandoned.”
He rotated his shoulder, easing the tightness of his muscles. “The Yellow House is not a brothel. None of my friends have anything to do with her misery. I’ll explain more when I know more. You’ll have to trust me, Alice.”
“I’m to help without asking questions, is that it?”
