.
When Blythe awoke, she was aware of a feeling of utter strangeness and confusion. At first, she had no idea where she was, but then the events of the past day came rushing back to her.
It's finally happened. I have gone utterly off the rails.
The thought did not frighten her as much as she might have thought it would. She frowned, remembering the events of the day before, particularly Thomas’ refusal of her proposal.
I have to admit. I did not think he was going to refuse me.
She wondered why that didn't sting more. Blythe supposed it was because she had never thought her own womanly charms were so very irresistible. A pang of jealousy hit her at the idea of Thomas having been with women with whom he had shared a certain kind of passion, but she told herself she had to be reasonable about it.
Blythe remembered that she had left Thomas sleeping on the chaise, and after dressing herself, combing out her hair and braiding it, and splashing some water on her face, she ventured out into the living room to find him. Instead of finding Thomas, she found a small loaf of bread, some cheese wrapped up in waxed paper, and an apple on the table. A rumble in her belly reminded her she hadn't eaten since early last night, and she was halfway through the cheese before she noticed the note.
I decided to run out early to see if I could get some things done. You were sleeping so soundly, and you seemed so tired that I didn't want to wake you. Have a good breakfast, and if you get hungry, I opened an account for you at the bakery around the corner. I should be back in time for lunch, and hopefully, it won't even be too late.
Something underneath was crossed out in dark ink, and Blythe shrugged. She wondered what in the world needed to be censored so closely, but she didn't think it mattered too much. At some point, Thomas would return and, together, they would figure out what she needed to do next.
She was startled when a soft knock at the door revealed a young girl with cleaning supplies in a bag and a hopeful look on her face.
“Hello, miss. The gent who owns this place hired me to do the cleaning and to fetch for you as you need, and today's my first day...”
Blythe would have sent the girl away, but there was such a hopeful air to her that she let her in. When the girl suggested that Blythe bathe while she cleaned the small flat, Blythe gave in. The girl heated kettle after kettle of steaming water, pouring it into the ceramic tub in its own dedicated room. When Blythe stepped into the steaming water, she took a deep breath and sunk all the way down. It felt like it had been forever since she had been in the bath without anything occupying her mind. It felt so good to simply sit in the hot water that her eyes started to drift shut.
I wonder what Thomas would think if he could see me now.
The thought woke her up, making her sit bolt upright before she sank back into the steaming water. Blythe could feel a heat on her face that had nothing to do with the heat of the water.
What a strange thing to think. He already said that he didn't want me to be his mistress.
Still, she couldn't get her mind off of Thomas opening the door and walking through the clouds of steam. Would he be smiling that smirk that she could only privately admit sent butterflies through her belly? Would he watch her with that deep hunger she could feel in him sometimes?
She closed her eyes as if to close herself off from those thoughts, but they persisted. Why was it so easy to imagine him kneeling by the tub, tangling his fingers in her damp hair and pulling her in for that kiss? When he touched her like this, there would be no clothing in his way, nothing to stop them from going further and further.
I really am ridiculous.
She picked up the rough cloth hanging conveniently from the hook nearby and started scrubbing. It was satisfying to get her skin pink and glowing, and then she could scrub out her long hair as well. A thin robe of muslin hung off of the door, and she dressed herself in it while she combed out her hair again. The girl peeped in to ask if there was anything else, and when Blythe dismissed her, telling her she had done good work, she grinned as bright as the sun.
“My mam's been sick, and she was so relieved I could get a job in the neighborhood.”
Blythe wondered if Thomas had known what a good turn he had done this girl. She hoped he did.
After the bath, Blythe felt a delicious lethargy in her limbs. She supposed that living a double life as she had been doing was tiring. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to lie down for a nap. Just as she was pulling back the covers, there was a knock at the door, louder than the maid's and firmer.
Oh, Thomas is back.
With a grin, she stepped barefoot back through the flat. She opened the door with a word of greeting on her lips, and then she realized it wasn't Thomas at all.
It was Tristan.
Tristan, at the very least, gave her the time to get dressed. She did up the buttons on her gray dress, her teeth almost chattering with nerves. She couldn't get Tristan's expression out of her mind. He had been shocked to see her naked except for a robe and with her hair around her shoulders and down her back, and then a look of disgust and pity came over his face.
Blythe moved slowly, putting off the time she would have to return to Tristan. He stalked the front room of the tiny flat, and she imagined it through his eyes. To her, it was beautifully cozy and sweet. To the girls she had worked with, the ones who slept four and five to a room, it was beyond luxurious that it should all belong to one person. To Tristan, raised in opulent splendor his entire life, it was beyond shabby and disgraceful.
She scraped her hair back from her face, braiding it up and pinning it so tightly it made her temples ache. When she glanced at herself in the bronze mirror, she looked every inch the missionary most of the world thought her to be, but Tristan was no longer fooled. She wondered briefly why she bothered, and then she knew as she walked back into the front room. With her hair pulled back until it hurt, her gray dress unforgiving in its unfashionable angles, and her shoulders back, it all felt like armor, a way of keeping what she didn't want taken away. When she looked into Tristan's face, she knew that it was not going to be enough.
He sat down on the chaise where Thomas had settled the night before and gestured for her to take the chair across from it. It was so civil, nearly friendly, that she almost missed the dangerous note in his voice when he spoke.
“You cannot marry Lord Cottering after you have been ruined.”
“Good.”
The word popped out before she could stop it. A wave of rage swept over Tristan's face, and then it was quenched by something almost soul-destroying and weary. She felt a pang of sympathy for Tristan, and then she abruptly decided that he could stop this at any time. He was the one with the power here, not her, and he could stop whenever he wished.
“I will not have Lord Cottering shouting your disgrace to the world when he figures out the truth. On top of that, I would not want to give the man a woman who belongs to another.”
Blythe bit her tongue on the fury of belonging to any man, but this was hardly the time to push Tristan more than he was already pushed. There was a kind of energy to him in this place that she didn't like, that put her teeth on edge. Just like Tristan had lost the ability to predict her, she had lost the ability to predict him. If the girls she had helped agreed on one thing, it was that men were at their most dangerous when they could not be predicted.
“The constables are waiting on the street outside.”
“Are you going to have me arrested?”
“No. I will have Thomas Martin arrested.”
Tristan's quiet words struck her through the heart. She half-rose from her seat, unable to sit still, but Tristan's hand cut through the air.
“No. Sit down. By God, you are going to listen to me at least this once.”
With a storm on her face, Blythe did as he said, and for one brief moment, she wondered if that surge of anger had actually killed all the love she once bore for her cousin.
“There are constables on the street. At the moment, they can still be called off, if I wish to do so. One of two things are going to happen. I know that Amory left earlier today, and that at some point, he will return. When he returns, the constables will arrest him for corruption and assault. Of you.”
“Thomas has done no such—”
“It won't matter. It will be the word of a duke against him. Oh, I doubt that anything terrible will happen to him. There will be an inquest and an investigation. He may have to pay a fine. But I also know his father is fed up with his antics, and that this could mean his disinheritance. Amory has many cousins, and the title could pass on to them just as easily.”
“Thomas’ father wouldn't do that.”
“Martins are vicious. Of course he might. But I suppose that is something you will have to bet on.”
“What is the other thing that might happen?”
“I call off the constables. I tell them there has been a mistake, and that you were staying with a friend of yours, and that I missed the note you left, like the good and pious girl everyone knows you to be. Together, we wait for Thomas to return, and you make it very clear you will no longer have anything to do with him. You do it in such a way that leaves no doubt, and then you and I leave here.”
Blythe could feel tears threatening, but she held them back viciously. She would not cry in front of Tristan. She would not give him that satisfaction. “How did you come to find me here?”
He smiled at her coldly. “Did you think I stopped having you followed? The only reason I waited this long to confront you was because I needed Amory out of the way.”
“Monster.”
“I'm sure you see it that way. Maybe in a few years’ time, when we have put this all behind us, you will think differently. Make your choice, Blythe. I am in no mood to wait.”
“You know what it is already. You must.”
“I do.”