Page 28 of Venus in Disguise

Once he’d dealt with her, the entire sorry business would be over and done and he could move on. He’d agreed to meet Mrs Travers tonight, not that the prospect was especially appealing, but it was either that, another boxing match or drinking himself into oblivion. Mrs Travers did little to get his blood moving, but she was a distraction less likely to kill him, he supposed grimly.

Finally, there was a knock at the door, and Mr Calverley appeared. “Your guest has arrived,” he said, expressionless.

Ash nodded. “Show her up.”

Mr Calverley nodded and hurried away. As Ash was one of the gallery’s best customers, he knew he could rely on the man’s discretion.

Miss Pinkerton arrived a few minutes later, white-faced but resolute as she stood just inside the door, glaring at him. Her expression faltered with shock as she took in the black eye.

“I box,” he said crisply. “Please don’t alarm yourself.”

Miss Pinkerton made a face which expressed disgust at such a pastime but said nothing.

“Do take a seat,” Ash said, polite if cool as he gestured to a seat by the fire.

“No, thank you. I shan’t be staying. Do you have the money?” she asked crisply. “For if you think you can browbeat or frighten me into giving up on—”

“Oh, I know I could,” Ash replied quietly.

She let out an involuntary gasp, her hand going to her throat.

“Settle your feathers,” he said in disgust. “You are quite safe. Here.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he extracted an envelope, holding it out to her.

For a moment, she gazed at it longingly, as she vibrated with indecision.

“I don’t bite,” he said in exasperation.

Like a scurrying little mouse, she darted towards him, snatched the envelope from his hands, and retreated once more, tearing eagerly at the seal. She pulled out the contents and unfolded the papers, staring at them in bewilderment.

“I don’t understand,” she said, raising her eyes to his. “W-What is this?”

“The first is the deed to a property in Kent. It’s only small, but it is yours, so you may live in it, sell it, or rent it out as you see fit. There are two bedrooms, so perhaps you might choose to take a lodger. The other is a draft on my bank for one thousand pounds.”

Colour rose to her cheeks, indignation glinting in her eyes.

“What do you mean by this?” she demanded, holding out the papers to him, her hands trembling. “Is it some manner of cruel joke to punish me for my audacity?”

Ash let out a weary huff of laughter. “No. It is precisely what it appears to be. No one should be forced to live a life of servitude, grateful despite every insult and thinly veiled abuse. This gives you freedom, and I hope it gives you an incentive to let Lady Narcissa alone. She has enough to contend with, without you making her life a misery.”

Miss Pinkerton stared at the papers in her hands, tears filling her eyes as a sob rose to her throat.

“Why? Why do this after… after everything I said about you?”

“Just because you say such things, it does not make them true,” he said coldly, regarding her with indifference. “I know my own worth. I need no pretty words or approbation from you to validate myself, but I see your fear, your insecurity and jealousy, all the petty spitefulness that fuels you because of a life that has treated you unkindly. Well, this time you are to be treated kindly by a man you despise for the colour of his skin, and I do not want your gratitude, or your thanks, but you will live knowing you owe me this much, despite your vile treatment of Lady Narcissa.”

She stared at him, white-faced, her expression pinched with shame and mortification. Ash took no pleasure in her discomfort. He only wanted it over and done with now. He went to the table where he had placed his hat and gloves and picked them up. Moving to walk past her, he paused, regarding her coolly.

“You could have been a friend to her, you could have helped her, and she would have loved you for it. She has a kind heart and is someone who would never see those she cares for suffer. Instead, you rebuffed her attempts to help you and used her for your own ends. At the very least, I believe you owe her an apology, but if it ever comes to my ear that you have done anything, said anything—”

“I won’t,” she said in a rush, shaking her head. Ash waited, and she tilted her head, looking up at him. “I know you do not want my thanks, and I don’t blame you for that, but you do have my gratitude, Mr Anson. This… This is…”

She stared incredulously at the papers in her hand again.

Ash snorted. “Yes, now you are grateful, and in six months, a year, when you are speaking to your friends and my name comes up, you will disparage me just the same, because prejudice of that kind runs deep. Just know that I know this, and I was the one who set aside notions of revenge and did the honourable thing. Good day to you, madam.”

He stalked out, leaving Miss Pinkerton to digest his words and praying he had done enough to keep Narcissa safe from her spiteful gossip. Either way, it was over now. His part in her life was nothing more than a footnote, a memory she might take out from time to time as she recalled her recklessness, and a man she had once cared something for.

14th February 1850, Goshen Court, Monmouthshire.