Never Too Late (24 page)

His mother walked into the library that he now used as his office, a room she generally avoided.

“It is all right, you know. I have no objections to her, Alexander.”

Honoria’s words echoed in his mind.

“But you do not know her.” He wanted his mother to harbor no illusions about Honoria, nor about him.

“Silly boy, I know you. And I knew from the first moment I met her that there was something between you. You hate my dinner parties. No, do not deny it. You always present yourself creditably well, but you have never enjoyed the formality or the small talk. Your clues to invite her to dinner were as subtle as a cannon. I was understandably curious about your motives. So unlike you. What I saw that night was not just what a lovely woman she is . . . and she is that. I saw in your eyes that you were smitten, even if you did not know it yet.”

He ducked his head, feeling sheepish and suddenly much younger than he’d felt in years.

“I thought I was being so suave.”

“That is how anyone but your mother would see it, yes.” She responded with a quiet smile. “She is a fine woman. Fiercely independent, honest, and direct to a fault. She is not what I would have expected for you, but she is a good woman. And you love her. That is all I need to know.”

“I . . . I have hurt her deeply. I . . . betrayed her trust in the worst way. What do I do, Mother?”

This was only the second time in his adult life that he’d asked his mother for something. It felt strange, but not unpleasant. She looked at him sternly for a few moments, without speaking. Then she walked up to him and began stroking his hair, like she’d done when he was a child.

“Trust is such a fragile thing. When given by someone like her, it can be stronger than steel and diamonds . . . and when shattered, it can be that impossible to rebuild. I cannot provide assurance, but I have faith in both of you. Have faith, my son, that the love you have for each other will overcome this . . . obstacle.”

He didn’t see how that would be possible. She had no idea how severely they’d lied to each other. Her faith sounded like a fairy tale, but he needed to believe it, even if it wasn’t true.

“I never thought I could feel this way about anyone.”

“You have led quite a self-contained life thus far. I had despaired of you marrying, but, more than that, I worry that you closed yourself off from what is most valuable in this life. That is why it is so clear that she is different. You would not lower your defenses for just anyone. And I am so very glad you have.”

“I wish I had your confidence about her. About me. I do not deserve her affection. These feelings are entirely alien to me. She is as vital to me as breathing.” He saw his mother’s eyes glisten at that. “Was this what you felt with Father? I thought it was awful every time he left. But how could you stand it?”

His mother blanched, and he immediately regretted his question. They never discussed his father or his parents’ marriage. Even now, his anger and guilt toward his father still simmered so close to the surface. And he didn’t want to face his mother’s whitewashed adoration.

“I am so sorry, Mother. I should not have asked something so personal.”

“That is quite all right. I did feel awful every time he traveled.... It was . . . difficult. But our situation was different. We both made choices best suited to our life, our needs.” Her tone was conciliatory, but she stood and ambled toward the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “You are an honorable man. No matter what you have done to upset her, I’m sure you had the best of intentions. You can make this right. I am certain of it.”

As she shut the door behind her, he could only hope her faith in him was deserved.

He sat at the desk trying to figure out how best to express himself to the one woman he wanted, the one woman whose forgiveness and esteem were now everything to him. But the words wouldn’t come. So instead he began a note to Mrs. Marissa Clarke, member of Needlework for the Needy, offering his assistance in their endeavors in exchange for assistance in his own helpless muddle.

Chapter Nineteen

Evans Principle #i: Never forget that you are, first and foremost, a capable, honorable, responsible citizen of the world. You are an Evans. Your dignity is a legacy no one can take from you.

“M
y God.” It was all she could say, all she could think.

The image was undeniable. The stacks of copies multiplied the image like an unholy kaleidoscope. The woman’s hair, the tilt of her head, the line of her neck—Honoria recognized these almost as well as she would recognize herself, so familiar was she after years of close companionship. She had known Minnie since the girl’s birth. From that time, she kept the tacit promise made by her parents to support and protect Minnie, as well as her brother. How the girl she remembered in pigtails and a pinafore became this spectacle, exposed, posed in horrifically explicit ways, she could not fathom. What she did know was that she had to speak with Minnie, who by this time was usually hard at work upstairs.

She jumped when she felt a hand at her back.

“Lord Devin, what are you doing here?”

“The repaired books arrived yesterday, along with the one you returned,” he said quietly. “I came to settle my accounts. Since you weren’t in the front room, I thought I would try back here.”

He carefully took the photograph from her hand and placed it facedown on top of the stack, obscuring the images completely. His light touch gave her time to stabilize her racing thoughts.

“You know her perhaps better than anyone,” he said. “She will need you to be strong. We will find the villains behind this, but right now you need to focus on her.”

She nodded. Then he left the room, closing the door to the front room behind him without a sound. Only dimly did she realize that she hadn’t greeted him, hadn’t spoken to him at all.

She hurried up the stairs, frantic in her search for the girl. “Minnie? Where are you, dear? I’m here to help you! Minnie?” The rooms to all the doors remained open during the continued repairs, and she searched each one methodically for any signs. Finally, she found Minnie curled up on a narrow couch in a third-floor bedroom, one that would have been servants’ quarters originally. As she took the poor child in her arms—
not a child any longer, Nora!
—she saw the photograph crushed in Minnie’s fist and felt her most constant companion uncharacteristically pulling away from her, hiding her face.

“What happened, Minnie?” she asked gently. “You can tell me, dear. I know you. I know you are a good girl. Were you threatened? Were you forced? What did they do to you?”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Duchamp.” Minnie’s words were broken by body-shaking sobs. “I never wanted to hurt you. You’ve been like a sister to me.” Her voice cracked. “But I truly had no choice.”

“Why, Minnie? What have you done?”

“I trusted him. He seemed so honest, so caring. We met by accident. One day he offered to carry the groceries home for me. Another day, he bought me pastry. He was so kind. And then he turned lovey, and it felt so good.”

Minnie shuddered, and Honoria took her hand for support.

“He would tell me how pretty I was, and he would kiss me in ways that made my stomach do somersaults. I was such a fool.” Minnie’s voice caught and tears slid down her cheek. “I thought he loved me.”

She ripped her hand from Honoria’s grasp and began pacing the room.

“He asked me for a special gift. He promised it would be safe, just between us. He swore I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. No one had ever treated me so. I would have done anything for him. I’m so ashamed.”

“What did he do to you, Minnie? You must tell me. It will be easier if you say it quickly.”

“There are other pictures. Photographs of things he made me do.” Minnie began to sob harshly again. “It sickens me. I can’t bear the shame.” Unable to catch her breath, she stumbled on the rest of the story. “Then he started threatening to share the pictures unless I followed his directions. He said he would give them not just to his friends—he would spread them around Haymarket, post them on advertising walls between here and Mayfair. Unless I let him and his friends into the shop when you were away.”

“Oh, Minnie.” As she moved to embrace the poor, distraught girl, she heard a scuffle and male voices raised downstairs. Quickly, she moved to close and lock the door, meager protection that would be from whatever new threat had arrived.

Meager, indeed, as Erich exploded into the room, breaking the doorjamb and slamming the door against the wall so hard, plaster fell from the ceiling.

“Wilhelmina! Tell me it isn’t true!”

Erich. Of course, this was what the situation needed. The young man rushed in, hair askew, a welt rising on his cheek, his shirt torn. Alex was close on his heels. Minnie folded into a corner and dropped her face into her hands as her body convulsed with weeping. Honoria bodily put herself between the siblings as she asked, “Erich, what’s happened to you? Did Lord Devin do this to you?”

He tried to get past his employer, but she grabbed his face in her hands and forced him to look at her, not his sister.

“What happened, Erich?”

His eyes red, he barely registered her. He pushed her hands off as he said, “The boys down at the pub. One of them was passing around these sheets, snickering.”

He threw photographs like the many on her desk. She quickly moved to gather them. In that moment, Erich charged toward his sister. Alex barely managed to catch him by the collar, causing him to nearly choke himself.

“We are trying, Mr. Hearsh, to figure out where these photographs came from and bring the source to justice,” Alex said calmly, as he forced the youth to face him. How strange to hear Erich called by his proper name. An odd look passed between the two men, one that she could not decipher. “Your sister is understandably beside herself. As upsetting as this situation may be, cooler heads must prevail.”

Before she could speak, Erich turned on his sister, kept at bay like a dog on a leash.

“Say it isn’t true, Wilhelmina. Tell me that’s not you. I took on three men at the pub to get those away from them. God only knows how many more there are. Tell me that’s not you.”

Minnie only curled more tightly into herself, sobbing hysterically.

“Clearly, we cannot solve anything right this minute,” Honoria said, as she bent over the girl, wanting to shield her from all of this. “Minnie will stay here with me tonight. She needs rest to calm her. In the morning, we shall try to piece all of this together. Do you understand me, Erich?”

He gave a curt nod, looking not at all satisfied.

“Promise me you won’t go back to the pub tonight.”

He stared at her, narrowing his eyes.

“Promise me, Erich.”

“Promise her, Mr. Hearsh, or I’ll tie you up and lock you in a closet until morning.” Devin’s support was surprisingly comforting, bolstering her even as her own thoughts wanted to scatter.

“I won’t go back to the pub tonight.”

“Go home, dear. Get some sleep.” She couldn’t help but be moved by his distress. He must feel as responsible for his younger sister as she did. But in his state, he could not help her. “I’ll see what I can find out from Minnie. You and I both know she is better than this. Whatever happened, she’s better than that trash. We will help her through this. Together, we can find those responsible and make them pay. But that will not happen tonight.”

That small measure of solidarity seemed to reach him. The tension in his scrawny body eased a little. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, leaving it askew, and walked over to Minnie slowly, quietly. As he took her hand gently, he said, “Min, all will be well. I guarantee it. Believe me, all will be well.”

Minnie whispered something unintelligible in response, and then her brother stood and stiffly left the room.

Devin looked at her, a question in his eyes as he tipped his head toward the departing younger man. She nodded, and without exchanging words, he followed Erich, presumably to see him home safely and make arrangements for tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Honoria took over, treating Minnie as she might a sick child. She stroked the girl’s hair for a bit and then led the way down to her own bedroom. Simple as it was, her room was still the most appointed in the house, and here she would watch over her charge all night, if need be.

Just as Honoria tipped over the knife edge of bone-deep exhaustion into sleep, Minnie spoke.

“I had to. Don’t you see? The very idea of those photographs spread along the Strand. I could never show my face in public. I could be arrested. I didn’t even know how it happened—how in one moment he was the prince of my dreams and the next—”

“What, Minnie? What did you do?”

“They wanted you out of the shop. They needed to know when you would be away for a significant amount of time and whether you would be in a public area where they could run into you.”

“The break-in? You told the vandals where to find me?”

The girl nodded.

“I trusted you. I would have done anything for you, if you needed me to.”

“I know, Miss Honoria. I’m so sorry. So sorry. You have to believe me. I can’t stand myself for what I’ve done to you. But I had to!”

“No, Minnie. There are always choices, even if none of them are perfect. You had the choice, and you helped destroy the shop. You had the choice, and you smashed the printing press as badly as if you’d taken a sledgehammer to it with your own two hands. You had the choice, and you knew what he asked of you was wrong.” She knew she was being hard-hearted, but this new betrayal crushed her.

“You don’t understand. It isn’t just about me. . . .”

Awareness rushed in, and Honoria gaped at Minnie’s midsection in the dark. How had she missed the telltale spreading over the past few months? Minnie and Erich never starved, but they’d never suffered an overabundance of food either. She should have noticed sooner. She just never would have guessed; truly, people see what they expect to see.

“No, Minnie!”

Minnie looked truly agonized and could barely whisper.