Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)(56)

“You should be careful,” Kate said as distinctly as she could manage with her cheek planted against the wall. “I’m a woman. I’m quite delicate, and I think I might faint if you continue.”

“Some women,” he spat, “have delicate sensibilities. Then there are women like you—false serpents in human form, who tempt real women to go astray. Where in God’s name is my wife?”

His fingers gripped her arm; Kate could feel his nails press into her skin, cutting through the fabric at her wrist. She took a deep breath and shoved ineffectually at him with her free elbow, but he didn’t move.

“If I pull back your arm,” he said cruelly, “eventually, it will pop out of its socket. In the process, it will cause you excruciating pain. I should hate to cause pain to anyone.”

“Even if ‘anyone’ happens to be a serpent in human form?”

“I am,” he said, “essentially a gentle, unassuming creature.”

He sounded as if he really meant it. She held her breath and stared at the wall he’d pressed her cheek into. And then she laughed. She laughed even though she knew it would enrage him. She laughed, even though she knew he would follow through on his threat and wrench her arm from its socket.

She laughed so that Harcroft would know that no matter how hard he hit, or how badly he hurt her, he could not win. That she would not be the weak, sniveling creature who waited on help to arrive, who dithered before obstacles until it was too late.

And he needed to know that now, because if she scraped and begged before him, sniveling for mercy, he would just visit his wrath upon her all the harder.

“You aren’t stronger than me,” she said. “Not with all your muscles. No matter how hard you strike me, you aren’t stronger than me. And that must make you furious.”

His eyes glittered with all the fury she’d anticipated. His hand tightened on her wrist; she rose on her toes as he turned her arm. She kept that smile on her face, flattened against the wall, her eyes clenched tightly shut. She didn’t dare let him see how much he hurt her.

And then Harcroft gave a pained cry of his own, and that wrenching pressure on her arm vanished. Kate turned in time to see Ned lift him by the lapels of his coat and slam him against the wall.

“I told you,” Ned said, his voice gravelly, “I told you to leave my wife alone. But no. You didn’t listen.”

Harcroft waved his legs furiously in the air, but he was as ineffective as a beetle overturned on the pavement, struggling to right itself. “No, I told you,” he squeaked. The whine of his voice seemed impotent against Ned’s dark anger. “I told you I would find my wife by any means necessary.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Ned said in a dark voice. “You’ve driven away the woman you believe you deserve, and so, in the absence of having your own wife to do violence to, you’ve chosen mine.”

“I—”

“To think,” Ned continued, “there was a time when I actually respected you. When I first came back to England, I took pity on you. When you told me Louisa was missing, I felt sorrow. I have no idea when or how your wife disappeared. I was out of England, as you know. But as matters stand, if my wife helped Louisa escape you, she has my full, unmitigated support. If I had been here, I would have stolen her away myself.”

Oh.

Even with her arm tingling, Kate felt a sudden rush of warmth and safety at those words. He meant them. He did.

“You can’t mean that. You can’t mean to foster such suborning. It will lead to chaos, if women make decisions—”

“I should hardly think so,” Ned said. He didn’t seem to be getting tired, holding Harcroft against the wall with one hand, but he gave the man a shake for good measure. “I don’t see the fabric of my life eroding, just because my wife happens to have a brain in her head. In fact, it’s actually one of her most attractive qualities. If you’d allowed your wife to make a few decisions of her own, instead of trying to control her with blows, perhaps you wouldn’t be here.”

Harcroft didn’t say anything. He’d stopped struggling against Ned’s inexorable hold. But his lips compressed to a hard line, and his eyes blazed with fury. His breathing was ragged; by contrast, Ned’s chest rose and fell as if he were not doing anything more strenuous than sipping tea.

It was in that moment that Kate realized something quite startling. Her husband was magnificent. It was not just the contour of his arm, that hidden strength that held the man who’d threatened her against the wall. It was not just the ease with which he defended her.

It was that assumption he made, without even glancing at her, that she was doing the right thing, that she was strong rather than weak, decisive rather than dithering. It was as if he had turned everything everyone saw of her upside down.

“Kate,” he said, without taking his eyes off Harcroft, “what should we do with this carrion-eater?”

“We’ve sent him home once. I suppose we can do it again.” Kate shook her head and gingerly touched her wrist. “We haven’t any use for him here.”

“Shall I decorate his face for him, before he takes his leave of our fine hospitality?”

“I should think there has been enough decoration for now.” Kate thought of the fine network of bruises she’d seen on Louisa’s arm. She thought about the spreading ache from her fingers on up to her shoulder. “The last thing we need at this point is violence. Isn’t that the case, Harcroft? I say that because I am, in fact, a gentle creature.”