Unclaimed (Turner, #2)

He couldn’t speak at all, could only hold her.

“It wasn’t just tea leaves in there. It was pennyroyal and lady’s lace and I don’t know what else from the apothecary, all brewed to bitterness, and then mixed with milk and sweetened. I didn’t know what was in the pot. He said he liked it. And so I drank it all. Just to be polite. You always have to be polite.”

Mark’s mind had descended into utterly horrified confusion.

“I didn’t know,” she said again. And this time, he could hear the edge of tears in her voice. “I didn’t know what he’d mixed in.”

“What—what had he—” But he already knew.

“The mix promoted female bleeding,” she said. “When taken in sufficient quantities…”

He could feel the wet of her tears against his shoulder. In fact, he could feel his own eyes prickle. His hands stung. He held her as tightly as he could, not daring to let her go.

“He told me later that he didn’t know how strong a dose I’d need. To be certain, he tripled the apothecary’s suggestion. That evening, I began to bleed, and it didn’t stop. It just came and came. I nearly died. And when the physician arrived and examined me, and was made to understand precisely how I’d been dosed…” She trailed off. “The physician…he’s one that a great many courtesans have used. He’s not the sort to make cruel remarks, or make us feel uncomfortable.”

He stroked her forehead, the side of her face, not sure what else to say.

“It was so idiotic of me.” Her voice caught. “When I discovered I was pregnant, I was scared. I was worried. I didn’t know what to do. But there was also part of me that was secretly pleased because I wasn’t going to be alone any longer.”

He didn’t know what to say to this.

“He took that from me. Without asking. He made me weak and powerless—made me into so much nothing, that I could not even decide my own future.” She was shaking now, her hands trembling in his. “Every time I think of it, I remember that. I survived everything else. But that…that nearly killed me.”

“Jessica. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. You did survive, and thank God for that.”

“I knew I had to get out. Had to stop being a courtesan. That’s why I had to seduce you—I needed the money so I wouldn’t have to go back. I couldn’t go back. Not to that.”

“Hush,” he said. “Don’t worry about that now. I understand.”

“There’s more. The physician told me there was a good chance I’m barren because of that. You want a family. I’m not sure I can give you one.”

Mark thought of a dark alley and a deserted street, many years ago. “If it comes down to it, there are children enough in need of parents. As for family…I have a family. I want to share mine with you.”

“But what would happen to them if you wed me?” Her fingers bit into his arms. “The man…the man who did this to me was George Weston.”

Of all the surprises Mark could have had at the moment, this was the least welcome. His mind washed blank. “George Weston,” he repeated. “George Weston. George Weston?”

“If we were to marry, I could not avoid him. He’s a part of your social set.” Her hands clenched into his arm. “He hates you—he’d tell everyone who I was. You can claim that I’m your equal in sin all you like, but you know society will not agree.”

“Hang society,” Mark said thickly. “I don’t care.”

“But I do. If I were in society, I couldn’t escape him. I couldn’t escape myself. And most of all, Mark…I can’t bear to remember.”

Alongside his horror, another emotion was growing. It was white-hot in its fury. It would consume him, if he let it. It was offensive that Weston had ever offered a reward for Mark’s seduction. But it was downright repulsive what he’d done to Jessica. He remembered Jessica flinching when he’d reached for her. Weston had committed an assault without fists, as determined an act of violence as rape. He had nearly killed her.

“To hell with Weston,” Mark heard himself say fiercely. “To hell with all of that. We’ll figure it out.”

“There isn’t any we.”

Maybe there hadn’t been, for her. But this wasn’t the time to dispute what she’d said with words. No; he had better arguments. Now was the time for him to hold her, to whisper soft reassurance in her ear. Now was the time to nuzzle her neck and tell her that everything would be all right.

“I will not leave you. Not for my reputation, not for my wealth, not for my hope of heaven. We’ll work it out in the morning. I refuse to give you up just because one man happens to be an unmitigated ass.”

“And if I ask you to leave?”

His lip curled. He shook his head. “Bollocks on that,” he said.

And then, despite everything she’d said, despite everything she’d told him, he felt her smile against his shoulder.

Balance. Calm. That’s what he gave her now, what she needed from him. But deep inside himself, something dangerous whispered.

Calm now; retribution tomorrow.