Now Free couldn’t breathe, waiting to hear his response.
“That first time we met on the bank of the Thames.” He spoke slowly, as if he were choosing his words with precision. “You bowled me over. I remember watching you leave, feeling as if I was in need of an exclamation point. But I didn’t have room for anything except full stops.” He shrugged. “You have to set boundaries before you get in the thick of things, because once you’re caught up in the act, you lose your head. You need to decide when to walk away: from cards, from a confidence game.” He glanced over at her. “From you. Maybe that’s what I was doing. Making sure that I would walk away before I lost my head. I had to make sure you would never trust me, because otherwise…”
She had no idea what words to interpose in that pause. She knew he’d admired her. That much had been obvious, even that first day by the river, and it had only become more pronounced as time passed.
“It doesn’t matter now. I know you well enough to know you’d never have implemented your threats.”
She heard his sharp inhalation, saw his hand jerk toward her and then slip away. “I would like to think I wouldn’t.” His voice was low. “But long experience tells me that I can’t make that promise. Don’t tell yourself otherwise. I don’t trust myself, Free, and you shouldn’t either.”
Oh, she didn’t trust him—at least not to tell her the truth about himself any longer. “Do continue,” she said politely. “Suppose that I went and told Delacey about your involvement. That would surely ruin some of your other plans. How would you stop me? Would you pen a letter I wrote to a lover, filled with sordid imaginings? Or would you aim for the purely financial? I can give you my banking arrangements; if you wish to make a hash of them, I can provide you with all the necessary details.”
“Free.” His voice was dark and forbidding. “Don’t.”
“Or maybe you’ll attack my parents. My sisters. I’ll make a list of all the people I love. I can hand over a complete dossier tomorrow, if that’s convenient. Of course, if I am allowed to register a preference…” She took a step toward him and set her hand on his chest. “I would prefer to be ruined by you. In the flesh.”
He growled deep in his throat, and his hand came up to cover hers. “What are you doing, Free?”
“Tell me, Edward. Tell me truly. What is this awful thing you’ll do to hurt me?”
He didn’t speak.
“I won’t even try and evade it. I’ll make it simple for you. All you have to do is look me in the eye and tell me that you could willingly ruin my life if I threatened yours. Go ahead.”
He let go of her hand and turned away from her.
“I knew it,” she said. “You stupid, stupid man. I knew it. You with your ‘of course you don’t trust me’s and your fake blackmail. You’re so clever, you almost fooled me.” She felt her throat catch. “You almost made me believe that I couldn’t trust you. But you failed, do you hear me? You failed utterly. I could put everything in your hands, and you’d never betray me. I could shut my eyes and throw myself to the ground, and you’d catch me before I had a single scratch.”
He blew out his breath.
“I knew it when I first saw Delacey in there,” she said. “For the tiniest instant, I thought he was you. Don’t be offended; it was a trick of the light. It was a trick of my heart, looking for you even when I knew I wouldn’t find you. For just one moment—that moment when I thought that I’d seen you—I smiled. And I felt the whole world come alight.”
He was stock-still, completely unmoving.
“And then he turned, and I realized who it was.” She gave a little laugh. “Once, many years ago, I had this dream. It was rather racy, if you must know. There was a young man I fancied, and in my dream…” She cleared her throat delicately. “In any event, I shut my eyes in my dream, focusing on the sensation. And then I opened them, and as things are in dreams, that handsome, charming young man had turned into the aging vicar. All my want washed away in a cold flush of revulsion. That’s what it felt like tonight. He came and spoke to me, and all I could think was, Free, you idiot, this is what it’s like not to trust a man. I don’t care what you say. You would never, ever hurt me.”
“I would,” he growled.
“You’re so arrogant that it never occurred to me that you doubted yourself so. But you do, don’t you?”
He made a surprised noise. And then he turned back to her. “I doubt every inch of happiness that comes my way.”
She set her hand on his wrist. “Don’t.”
“I can’t ask you to trust me,” he said. But he didn’t draw away. Instead, he turned his hand in hers, so that his gloved fingers faced hers, interlacing.