The Governess (Wicked Wallflowers, #3)(52)

“What a lot of rot,” Cleo said quietly, those words more powerful than had she shouted them.

Reggie’s treachery was indisputable, and as such, he’d not be battling anyone on this, and certainly not Cleo.

“She is the one who wanted to set up her own hell and take my staff. Including MacLeod and all our best serving girls. What do you call that?”

“First, are you certain she’s actually creating a rival club?” Cleo protested.

Ophelia scoffed. “You’re looking for anything that would excuse her actions.”

As Cleo proceeded to defend Reggie, the truth of the youngest Killoran sister’s transformation hit him like a slap to the damned solar plexus. “You’ve gone soft.”

Behind her spectacles, Cleo’s eyes formed narrow, threatening slits that would have inspired terror in any other man. “Have a care.” Slowly removing those wire frames, she dusted the lenses along the front of her skirts. “Now, regardless of Reggie’s plans, I am sure, knowing her as I do . . . as we all do”—she looked amongst them—“that she has her reasons.” With an air of finality, she returned her glasses to her face.

Yes, Reggie had said as much. He’d not reveal that particular detail. He gritted his teeth. This forgiving note, he’d expected from Gertrude. Not, however, from Cleopatra, who’d proven herself as single-mindedly focused on the success of the club as he himself had been.

“Yes, she ’ad her reasons.” Stephen stuck up a finger as he ticked off his reasons. “Money, power, and influence.”

“Bah, don’t be mad,” Cleo charged, and an angry flush mottled Stephen’s cheeks.

“Don’t call me mad,” he cried.

“I’m merely pointing out—”

“Enough,” Broderick said quietly, silencing the quarreling pair.

Support of Broderick and Stephen came from the likeliest of their sisters. “That is it?” Ophelia shot back. “That is all you’d say. Damn it, Cleo, the evidence is here before our eyes.”

“Do not forgive a man who’s betrayed you.” Broderick tossed that lesson doled out by Diggory long ago at them. It had guided them all. “Not unless you wish to be destroyed.”

“If you live the whole of your life by the code of a killer, then you’re no different than him,” Cleo said quietly.

He flinched. “I’m not debating Miss Spark’s duplicity.”

“Nor should you have to,” Ophelia piped in. Her face crumpled. “Why? Why would she do this?”

Hers was an echo of the very same question that had haunted him since the discovery of Reggie’s betrayal. He’d called her a friend, that relationship a rarity in the Dials. Only Reggie had proven it was something more. “As Stephen said . . . greed. Power.”

Cleo exploded to her feet. “Bloody rubbish,” she shouted, slamming her fist down on his desk.

The crystal inkwells rattled under the force of that strike.

His sisters began speaking over one another, the room filled with angry charges, questions, and insults.

This was what Reggie had wrought, as well. Strife within the Killoran ranks, when their family had already been torn asunder and was about to be shredded even further by Maddock.

Fishing a cheroot and match out of his jacket, he lit the thin scrap and took a much-needed draw.

You only partake in those scraps when you’re troubled . . .

His fingers clenched reflexively about the cheroot as Reggie’s soft, lyrical voice floated forward in his mind. She’d gathered his weaknesses over the years. She’d revealed as much when he’d confided in her the truth about Stephen. He’d been too bloody blind to realize all the ways in which he’d proven himself . . . human with Reggie Spark. She knew his weaknesses. She knew the darkest secret about his family.

And she could use it all against him. Now. In the future. When he wasn’t expecting it. The day he eventually freed her of her obligations, the threat she posed would always be there. Lingering.

Christ.

He inhaled deep of his smoke. “Enough,” he said around a perfect circle of smoke. When Cleo and Ophelia continued going toe to toe, he raised his voice. “I said, enough.”

That managed to silence them.

“I’m not looking to debate the reasons or possible reasons or invented excuses to justify Reggie Spark’s actions. The papers I saw with my own eyes”—he waved his cheroot—“speak for themselves.”

Through it all, Gertrude had remained silent. At last, she spoke. “That is why you’ve forced her into the role of my companion? Because you fear she’ll be disloyal to us.”

“She’s already been disloyal,” Ophelia said gently.

Gertrude scowled. “Don’t patronize me. Surely we cannot simply overlook a lifetime of friendship because she wants a business of her own?”

“I made the mistake of confiding in her the circumstances surrounding Stephen.” Silence met Broderick’s damning admission. “Reggie is the only one outside our immediate kin”—he spared a glance for Ophelia—“and O’Roarke to know the truth.” Reggie had in her hands information that could bring him, his family, and their empire crumbling down about them.

Ophelia cursed.

“Surely you aren’t implying that she would use that information to harm us?” Cleo asked, directing her gaze about the family.