Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
A handkerchief.
A pillow.
A cup of tea to warm her trembling hands, and then later, when her throat was parched from talking, cool water to down in a single swallow.
At some point, the objects ceased moving into and out of her grasp, and she found herself clinging to one steady source of comfort: Gabriel’s hand.
“I thought escaping to finishing school would be a relief,” she went on, “but it was worse. So much worse.”
Finishing schools ostensibly existed to instruct young ladies in playing the harpsichord and painting with watercolors. However, the lecture the matrons gave most frequently had nothing to do with art or music. The topic was virtue. The importance of staying pure, of never allowing gentlemen to take liberties before marriage. Not a kiss, not a touch. Without her innocence, a young lady was worthless.
By the time of her debut, Penny felt like a fraud. She wasn’t the sort of young lady she’d been told a true gentleman would want, and she never could be again. The event was a lie. She was a lie. And of course, the mere idea of dancing made her ill.
So she tucked a hedgehog in her pocket. Freya was a protective talisman. Curled up in a tight ball, all her soft vulnerability hidden beneath rows of sharp quills.
And even now, when she’d grown old enough to understand it hadn’t been her fault, and that her inner worth was intact, and the very idea of ruination was a falsehood . . .
She still couldn’t bring herself to dance.
When she’d finally emptied herself of words and tears, it felt like hours had passed. Perhaps they had. She was wrung out, exhausted in both her body and her mind.
As she lifted her head, Penny gathered the frayed bits of her emotions and tried to prepare. Gabriel knew how it felt to be an unprotected, suffering child. He would want justice on her behalf.
She would have to make him assurances. He mustn’t be angry or do anything rash, she prepared to tell him. She was better now, she’d say. So much better.
But the truth was, she didn’t feel better. Not even though she’d unburdened herself of everything, purged that vast store of shame and pain and secrets. What remained when one unpacked an old wardrobe? An empty space. One that would take time—perhaps years—to fill.
So, no. She didn’t feel better yet.
She didn’t feel anything but numb, and she’d no strength in her body to pretend otherwise.
“Penny,” he said. “If it’s all right . . . may I hold you?”
She nodded, and he drew her into his arms, holding her close. He pressed a kiss to her crown. She couldn’t have believed there were any more tears in her, but her eyes wrung out a few more.
“I don’t have any kittens to offer,” he said. “But if you’re in need of some soothing, I may have just the thing.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Penny looked on with curiosity as Gabriel rolled his sleeves to the elbow, leaned over the immense copper tub, and gripped the water tap.
“Say a prayer to the gods of modern plumbing,” he advised her. “And if you know any, a ward against witchcraft.”
He turned the tap and water flowed into the tub—clear, plentiful, and steaming hot.
“That’s more like it,” he muttered.
“Hot running water?” She stretched her arm into the bath and swirled the water with her fingertips. “I hereby retract all my complaints about construction noise. This is a miracle.”
“It certainly took an act of God to achieve.”
He turned the other tap, adding cold water to balance the hot. Then he reached for a vial of attar roses and added a few drops to the bath. The room filled with fragrant steam.
“There are towels.” He indicated a stack of immaculate white flannel towels, folded in perfect squares. “Soap is there, by the basin. I’ll be seeing to a few things downstairs, but you’ve only to ring if you need anything and I’ll come at once.”
“Wait.” She turned her back to him and lifted her hair. “Help me with the hooks, if you would?”
He undid the fastenings carefully and loosened the tapes of her corset, as well. His manner wasn’t seductive, merely gentle.
“I’ll hang a dressing gown on the hook outside the door,” he said. “Take as long as you like.”
Once he’d gone, Penny slid her arms free of her frock, untied her corset and petticoats, and unbuttoned her chemise. She pushed the layers of fabric down over her hips, shedding them all at once, like a skin. The tile was cold beneath her bare feet, but when she lowered herself into the deep tub, the heat enveloped her.
Heaven.
The bathwater wrapped around her like a hug. One that embraced every part of her equally. A hand, a knee, a breast, an earlobe—the water didn’t distinguish between them. She submerged herself to the crown of her head and let the warmth flow over and around her.