Page 76 of The Countess Caper

“So, this is your secret.”

They were back in the carriage, opting for a retreat rather than stewing in the cresting gossip and the questions shivering in the air. They’d announced to the world that they were married.

And then proceeded to rip each other’s clothes off in the back garden and make a guest bleed in the library.

That had not gone particularly to plan. Even for her.

She was used to plans changing, to adapting, pivoting. She was not used to someone like Roarke coming to her defense. She warned herself not to get used to it. She desperately wanted to get used to it—not to having him ride to her rescue, but to just have him there. To be able to rely on the fact that he would not leave or get bored or send her away.

She also desperately wanted to bite her way across his chest, down his stomach.

“Tessa.”

She stifled a sigh. Clearly his mind was elsewhere, while hers was… indecent.

“Yes.” There was no sense in lying about it now. She might not elaborate, but he clearly knew Holly was the Dowager Countess Beville. A dowager at twenty-two years old. Her husband had been more than twice her age, more than twice as powerful as her or her family, more than twice as worldly. What options had been left to her when he turned cruel? Violent? And then his brother turned out to be no better. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

He looked affronted, scowling at her as the carriage wheel dipped into a rut in the road. The glass rattled in the window casing. “Do you think I would?”

“No.”

He looked vaguely mollified. “Good.”

“But do you see now how it was not my story to tell?”

“I see that it was your house that you took danger into.” He was not going to be placated, not over this.

“Was I supposed to do any different?”

“You?” His expression softened. She fought the urge to sit next to him, to breathe in his cedar scent, to feel the weight of his arm around her shoulder. “Never.”

“I did once,” she said quietly.

“Did what?”

“Look away? For just a moment.” She forced her hands not to clench. The view outside the window was all trees and blue skies. She barely saw it. She only saw Deidre excited to be in love, talking of wedding flowers, weeping when Tewksbury ceased talking to her. The muddy alley where she died with her baby. “My friend Deirdre was in a similar strait.”

“Tewksbury.”

“Yes. He wasn’t violent, but he abandoned her. Everyone abandoned her.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you abandoned her as well? Because I know for a fact that you could not.”

“I should have been there for her. She should have come to me.”

His hand closed over hers, warm and comforting. “I’m sure she knew that.”

“Instead, they found her body in an alley. I won’t let it happen again,” she said fiercely, refusing to let the tears fall.

“Hence Magpie House.”

“Hence Magpie House.” It was the best she could do in the moment. She could not tell him everyone’s secrets. Not without permission.

“I understand, you know,” he said. “A little. Did Beville believe you that Holly was not in residence?”

“I think so?”

“You’re not sure.”