irrevocably altered. As a physician, I’m aware I should allow you all the time you need to recover, but a man is dead—an innocent, harmless old man who did nothing wrong except help me with my enquiries, but now he has perished, and I fear I’m to blame.”
Nellie spun round, her eyes wide with shock. “But…you said the old man died in a house fire.”
“I told Thaddeus Ormond about Mr. Cazalet.” Julian pushed to his feet and gulped down the last of the brandy. The alcohol bit into his empty stomach, but there was no relief. “You see, I went to Ormond with my bee brooch, foolishly thinking he might be able to shed some light on my mother, but he was outraged at my impertinence. His family traced back to the Norman conquest, how dare I turn up on his doorstep casting aspersions upon his dead sister! I grew angry with him, insults were exchanged. I hammered him with all the facts I’d gathered.” Up and down he paced the carpet as his memories tormented him. “I told him about Mr. Cazalet, about Ophelia having the brooch repaired, and now…now Mr. Cazalet is dead, and it’s my fault.” Coming to a halt, he smacked his fist against the mantelpiece.
“But you can’t be sure of that.” Nellie jumped to her feet and stood in front of him. “Houses burn down all the time. It could have been an accident.”
“Perhaps, but my gut tells me otherwise. Sir Thaddeus warned me never to go near him again before ordering his footmen to throw me out of the house. I thought he was malignant and arrogant, but I didn’t comprehend how dangerous he was until I witnessed your abduction.”
“So…you were shadowing Sir Thaddeus that night.” She drew back slightly. “It wasn’t mere serendipity.”
“I should have known how ruthless he could be. I should have warned Mr. Cazalet that he was in danger.” But instead he had dallied at home, ministering to Nellie’s needs. Not that she required much help from him in her recovery. She was rapidly mastering the metal mesh glove and could manipulate the artificial fingers with expert dexterity. As for her facial scars, they were healing as well as could be expected and didn’t need a doctor’s attentions anymore. But he had continued to whittle his time away with her, telling himself his interest was merely professional, but knowing deep down it was much more than that.
He studied her anew. In the diffused interior light, her striped face took on an otherworldly air. Instead of mutilation and horror, he saw an unconventional beauty, a lustre emanating from her inner strength. But his fascination for her had lulled him into a false sense of security, and he had to face the consequences of his distraction.
Gripping her upper arms, he pulled her closer. “Nellie, why won’t you tell me everything you know about Sir Thaddeus? Why the devil are you still protecting him after everything you’ve suffered? Why?”
Instead of crumpling into tears, as he’d half-feared, she braced herself against his hold, her eyes flashing with green fire. “Protecting him! I’m doing nothing of the sort. I loathe and despise Sir Thaddeus. I curse him with every last breath in my body.” The ragged hoarseness of her voice left him in no doubt of her feelings.
“Ah, so you admit to knowing him, at least.”
“Yes, all right. I do know him, though I wish to God I’d never laid eyes on him.” She paused, her throat working as she swallowed convulsively. “He is a bully, a thug, a monster. He will stop at nothing to get his way.”
Julian felt her tremble in his arms, saw tears spring to her eyes. She’d been such a pillar of fortitude, but here she was on the brink of breaking down. A delayed reaction, he thought. Nothing to be concerned about. But the physician in him could not control his other, less noble urges. He slid his arms around her and held her in a loose embrace.
“He wanted you dead, Nellie,” he murmured. “Why was that? What did you do that drove him to
Nellie spun round, her eyes wide with shock. “But…you said the old man died in a house fire.”
“I told Thaddeus Ormond about Mr. Cazalet.” Julian pushed to his feet and gulped down the last of the brandy. The alcohol bit into his empty stomach, but there was no relief. “You see, I went to Ormond with my bee brooch, foolishly thinking he might be able to shed some light on my mother, but he was outraged at my impertinence. His family traced back to the Norman conquest, how dare I turn up on his doorstep casting aspersions upon his dead sister! I grew angry with him, insults were exchanged. I hammered him with all the facts I’d gathered.” Up and down he paced the carpet as his memories tormented him. “I told him about Mr. Cazalet, about Ophelia having the brooch repaired, and now…now Mr. Cazalet is dead, and it’s my fault.” Coming to a halt, he smacked his fist against the mantelpiece.
“But you can’t be sure of that.” Nellie jumped to her feet and stood in front of him. “Houses burn down all the time. It could have been an accident.”
“Perhaps, but my gut tells me otherwise. Sir Thaddeus warned me never to go near him again before ordering his footmen to throw me out of the house. I thought he was malignant and arrogant, but I didn’t comprehend how dangerous he was until I witnessed your abduction.”
“So…you were shadowing Sir Thaddeus that night.” She drew back slightly. “It wasn’t mere serendipity.”
“I should have known how ruthless he could be. I should have warned Mr. Cazalet that he was in danger.” But instead he had dallied at home, ministering to Nellie’s needs. Not that she required much help from him in her recovery. She was rapidly mastering the metal mesh glove and could manipulate the artificial fingers with expert dexterity. As for her facial scars, they were healing as well as could be expected and didn’t need a doctor’s attentions anymore. But he had continued to whittle his time away with her, telling himself his interest was merely professional, but knowing deep down it was much more than that.
He studied her anew. In the diffused interior light, her striped face took on an otherworldly air. Instead of mutilation and horror, he saw an unconventional beauty, a lustre emanating from her inner strength. But his fascination for her had lulled him into a false sense of security, and he had to face the consequences of his distraction.
Gripping her upper arms, he pulled her closer. “Nellie, why won’t you tell me everything you know about Sir Thaddeus? Why the devil are you still protecting him after everything you’ve suffered? Why?”
Instead of crumpling into tears, as he’d half-feared, she braced herself against his hold, her eyes flashing with green fire. “Protecting him! I’m doing nothing of the sort. I loathe and despise Sir Thaddeus. I curse him with every last breath in my body.” The ragged hoarseness of her voice left him in no doubt of her feelings.
“Ah, so you admit to knowing him, at least.”
“Yes, all right. I do know him, though I wish to God I’d never laid eyes on him.” She paused, her throat working as she swallowed convulsively. “He is a bully, a thug, a monster. He will stop at nothing to get his way.”
Julian felt her tremble in his arms, saw tears spring to her eyes. She’d been such a pillar of fortitude, but here she was on the brink of breaking down. A delayed reaction, he thought. Nothing to be concerned about. But the physician in him could not control his other, less noble urges. He slid his arms around her and held her in a loose embrace.
“He wanted you dead, Nellie,” he murmured. “Why was that? What did you do that drove him to
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