She looked at him in anguish. “You want me to go the rest of my life watching you in so much pain? Believing your brother murdered a woman? Isn’t it better to find out what really happened?”
“No.”
Tears swam in her eyes, and she turned her head to avoid his gaze. “I want to help you.”
“You can help best by never speaking to Fellows again.
And stop trying to find out what happened. Promise me.” She went silent a moment, then sighed. “Mrs. Barrington always told me curiosity was my besetting sin.” “I’ll keep you safe, I promise you, my Beth.”
“Very well,” she whispered. “I’ll stop.”
Relief relaxed his body. He pulled Beth into his arms, held her tight against him. “Thank you.” He kissed her hair. “Thank you.”
She reached up to kiss him. As he slid his lips over hers it didn’t occur to him that she’d given up a shade too easily.
Chapter Nineteen
When Beth woke much later, Ian slept next to her, his naked body touched by lamplight, his muscles gleaming with sweat from their passion. When he’d climaxed inside her, he’d almost, almost looked at her fully again, but he’d closed his eyes at the last minute. Now he slept, and Beth lay against his warmth, her thoughts troubled. Ian might not want to know the truth, but the truth was that Sally Tate and Lily Martin had died, lost their lives. Beth knew enough of game girls to know that unless they found a long-term relationship with a wealthy protector, their lives could be short and brutal. The wrong chent could beat them senseless, even kill them, and no one would care. They were just whores.
Even if the girls managed to find a place in an elegant brothel, when they grew older and lost their looks they could be turned out, sent to live on the streets again. Those with protectors fared better, but only if the protector was kind to them.
Beth knew full well that but for the grace of God and the kindness of Thomas Ackerley and Mrs. Barrington, she could have become one of them.
Fellows didn’t care that the women had died; he wanted only to destroy the Mackenzies. Ian cared—she could see his sorrow for Sally and Lily and his own mother—but what he cared most about was sparing his brother. The brother who had delivered Ian from hell.
Beth ground her teeth. Damn the dead duke for locking Ian away because Ian had seen what he wasn’t supposed to see. Damn Hart Mackenzie for enmeshing Ian in his games of power. And damn Ian for his undying gratitude to Hart. .
Beth hadn’t understood at first why Isabella had walked away from Mac “when she obviously still loved him. She understood better now. Beth wasn’t certain what Mac had done to upset Isabella so much, but then he was a thickskulled, stubborn Mackenzie. Wasn’t that enough? A sweet debutante like Isabella hadn’t stood a chance. Beth rose and dressed herself. She’d learned to dress simply and hastily when she’d worked for Mrs. Barrington, having to tend the old lady any time of the day or night. Ian didn’t wake. He lay facedown, his body relaxed, eyes closed. Lamplight brushed the firm mound of his backside, the small of his back, the tight muscles of his shoulders. He was a large and beautiful man, so strong, and so very vulnerable. Hart had called him that. And yet, Hart had backed down from him.
I love you, Ian Mackenzie. Beth’s heart ached.
She silently left the room and went downstairs. Glancing about to make sure she was not seen, she made for the door in the back of the main hall that led to the servants’ staircase. The cook worked busily in the kitchen, cleaning up the supper she’d just cooked for Cameron and Daniel. She beamed at Beth as Beth entered the warm kitchen, just like old times.
“It’s good to see ones eat so heartily,” the cook said. “They et it all straightaway and asked for more. A cook can’t ask for better. Not like yourself, who didn’t even come down. Can I warm something on a plate for you?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Donnelly. I’m looking for Katie.”
“You’re the lady of the house now. You should ‘ave rung.”
“Have you seen her?” Beth asked impatiently.
“She’s on the scullery stairs.” The cook looked disapproving. “With one who’s no better than she ought to be. I wouldn’t let the likes of her in.”
Beth’s heart leapt. “It’s all right. She’s one of my charity cases.”
“You’re too softhearted, you are. Katie’s all right, but that one she’s brought is hard as nails, and her nose is stuck in the air. She don’t need your charity.”
Beth ignored Mrs. Donnelly and left through the scullery and to the stairs that ran to the street above. Katie waited on the steps, her face clouded in Irish fury. “Well, she’s here, as you can see.”
“Thank you, Katie. You may go in now.” “Not bloody likely. I don’t trust her an inch, and I ain’t leaving her alone with you.”
The lady in question really did have her nose in the air, a slim, well-powdered nose. The rest of her face was well powdered, too, and rouged Diamonds glittered on her neck and in her ears. The young woman wasn’t beautiful, but she was attractive in a sensual way, and she knew it. Her red lips curved into a superior smile as she gave Beth’s simple gown a once-over.
“Molly said you was a duchess,” she said. “But I didn’t believe it.”
“You mind your manners,” Katie snapped. “She’s a lady.”
“Hush, Katie. Your name is?”