MERRYN LAY IN HER BED watching the ripple of the winter sun across the floor and listening to the rattle of carriages in the road outside. A fire burned in the grate and beside her on the table sat a cup of cold tea. She had lain there for hours, all of the previous day, all night and now into the morning. She had not slept at all.
She could hear Tess and Joanna whispering just out of earshot.
“Merryn is totally ruined.” She caught the edge of Tess’s words. “Everyone is talking scandal, Jo. It is the on dit in all the papers this morning. Caught naked in a brothel in bed with the Duke of Farne! I can’t believe …” Her voice faded away. Merryn watched a sparrow that had perched on her windowsill. It was looking through the glass, its head tilted to one side, as though it, too, was full of questions and gossip.
There was a swish of silk and then Joanna appeared beside the bed. Her troubled blue gaze took in Merryn’s untouched cup. She sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“I haven’t slept,” Merryn said.
“No,” Joanna said. “I imagine not.”
Merryn waited. She felt odd—exhausted and yet wide-awake, her mind strangely blank and yet unable to rest.
Tess had followed Joanna across the room and was standing looking at her with a very odd expression in her eyes.
“I have to hand it to you, Merryn,” she said. “Joanna and I have done many a scandalous thing between us but you …” She shook her head. “I confess myself shocked.”
“Thank you,” Merryn said.
“Although you do look well on it.” Tess picked up one of Merryn’s curls and ran it through her fingers. “How shiny the beer has made your hair! I shall have to see if I can order a barrel from the brewery. Anyway …” She remembered what it was she had originally been going to say. “You will be glad to know that although everyone knows that you spent the night with the Duke of Farne in a bordello, no one outside the family has heard the shocking news that you have been working for Mr. Bradshaw. That is one secret we have managed to keep.”
“Thank goodness,” Joanna said ironically. “No lady works for a living.” She looked at Merryn, a frown puckering her brow. “Mr. Bradshaw tried to blackmail us, you know. He threatened to expose the truth about you if we did not pay him.”
It was the first time that anything had pierced the lassitude that had Merryn in its grip and she shot up in bed, almost spilling her tea. “What? Tom tried to extort money from you?” She looked from one sister to the other. “What happened?”
“I threatened to shoot him,” Tess said, with considerable satisfaction. “He reconsidered.”
Merryn slumped back against the pillows, shocked and bitterly upset. Quite evidently she had misjudged Tom Bradshaw. She had felt so close to Tom, united in camaraderie, fighting for justice. Or so she had thought. Clearly Tom had been working for something quite different. Treacherous, deceitful Tom …
She remembered Garrick telling her that Tom was corrupt and she felt hopelessly naive. She closed her eyes for a second wondering if all her judgments were so faulty. Today she was no longer sure of anything.
Joanna patted her hand. “I am sorry, Merryn.” She smiled at Tess. “Would you give me some time with Merryn alone, please, Tess? I think there are some matters we need to discuss.”
Tess nodded. She gave Merryn a spontaneous hug, which brought the tears prickling Merryn’s eyelids, and went out, closing the door softly after her. Merryn turned to look at her eldest sister. Joanna looked much the same as ever, stylish to a fault, although there were dark marks beneath her eyes that suggested that she, too, might have had a sleepless night. Merryn felt surprised by her sister’s self-possession. She had expected Joanna to be hysterical, to rail at her for her behavior and for the shame and dishonor that she had brought on the family. Merryn had been accustomed to thinking both her sisters shallow but now, looking at Joanna’s face, pale but perfectly composed, she was obliged to admit she had made a mistake, and about Tess, too.
“How do you feel?” Joanna asked expressionlessly.
“Very odd,” Merryn admitted. She felt sore today, not just from all the cuts and lacerations that her body had sustained in the flood. There were other aches, other soreness that was the result of Garrick’s lovemaking. The changes in her body made it impossible for her to pretend it had never happened. She felt different, aware of her physical self as she had never done before. It was odd and disconcerting and yet at the same time there was a wicked undertow of excitement and possibility about it that only served to confuse her further.
She ached more deeply, too, in her heart and soul, with a rawness that was so profound it made her want to cry. She knew she was still tired and that she was suffering from shock, but then there were other hurts that could not simply be intellectualized or explained away. How could she have done what she did with Garrick Farne? How could it have been so glorious in the moment, how could it have given her such dizzying pleasure, such excitement, such new and stunning awareness, and yet be so painful to recall now? And how could she forget it, as she had sworn she would, when she had thought about nothing else in the long darkness of the night when she had lain awake and remembered the press of Garrick’s body on hers, the sense of him within her, the way that she had felt possessed and completed and utterly claimed as his?
Merryn fidgeted as a wave of heat rolled through her, making her stomach melt with a fiery longing. She had never been troubled by physical desire before she had met Garrick. She had read about lust, studied the differences between Eros, passionate and sensual desire, and Agape, deep, true love, and had thought how interesting it was and how clever language was to be able to separate and define the two. She had looked on it all as an academic exercise and had not felt anything but intellectual curiosity. But now she burned. She burned for Garrick and to learn and explore all those wonderful sensations she had only just discovered. It had been like a door opening into a richly colored fantasy world. She wanted to run through that door and greedily grasp after every new discovery.
She hated herself for it.
A wave of shame and self-reproach tumbled through her, making her feel physically sick.
You lust for the man who killed your brother …
“I am sorry, Joanna,” she said. “I am sorry that I deceived you about working for Tom Bradshaw.”
She saw Joanna frown. “It made me wonder,” Joanna said, “whether I really know you at all.” She fixed Merryn with her big blue eyes. “You have been working for Mr. Bradshaw for several years, so I understand. When I thought you were attending lectures or scientific talks you were undertaking assignments from him.”
“Not always,” Merryn said, feeling defensive. “I have done a great deal of study as well.”
Joanna swept on as though she had not spoken. “I used to imagine you as so unworldly and intellectual. I thought that I had to protect you.” She gave a short laugh. “Do you remember when John Hagan threatened to destroy us all if I did not become his mistress, and I went to Alex for protection? I did that for you as well as for myself, Merryn. I thought I had to care for you! It turns out you were nowhere near as naive and defenseless as I had thought.”
“I think,” Merryn said, with painful honesty, “that I have been extremely naive.”
Joanna’s gaze considered her. “We shall come to that in a moment,” she said pleasantly. “For now, please permit me to get this off my chest.” She drew a deep breath. “When I was abroad and thought you safely staying with friends you were apparently undertaking other assignments for Mr. Bradshaw. Indeed, I am wondering if any of your friends actually exist! Last night, when you did not return home, we sent to a Miss Dormer’s house because you had said you were attending a concert with her. We found that Miss Dormer did not live at the address you gave.”