His Fire Maiden

Chapter 13

Vivienne put the unpleasantness of murder out of her mind. She would enjoy herself with Reginald, if not for her sake, then for his. And surprisingly, they did enjoy the day. The museum was enormous, its collection of wonders vast.

When the hour grew late and most patrons made for home, Reginald slipped an obscene amount of money to the guard to allow them to stroll the upper floors uninterrupted. Vivienne was glad for it. A day spent in public with her husband made her painfully aware of how life was for him. Her heart filled with tenderness when she realized what this day out cost him.

They stopped to study Greek sculptures in one of the upper galleries, and she turned to him, intent upon offering her gratitude.

"Why haven't you left me?" Reginald interrupted, scattering her thoughts.

"What do you mean?" But she knew. Her throat went dry and sore. How could she tell him, when she hadn't truly admitted it to herself?

They stood alone in a small alcove facing an ancient frieze. He gestured toward the stairs where the sound of patrons leaving the museum drifted up. "All of them think I am a killer."

He ran a finger along the balustrade at his side, watching the movement. "Morbid fascination compels society to tolerate me. But you..." Reginald lifted his head, yet would not turn to face her. "Why haven't you left? Why do you defend me? I... I cannot account for it."

"You cannot account for a person coming to your defense when it is needed?"

"No. Never."

His quiet conviction made her ache.

"I told you, Reginald, I will not condemn you based on your appearance alone."

His stillness seemed to affect the air around him, turning their world quiet. "Come now, Vivienne. You heard all that Inspector Lane had to say."

Caught, Vivienne's breath left in a sharp puff, but he went on.

"Sir Percival called my name moments before he was murdered. Another servant saw someone dressed like me leaving the grounds. All very damning. Why did you not leave then?"

Vivienne's heart pounded loudly in her ears. "How did you know I was there?"

He made a soft sound, perhaps a laugh, and fell silent. So then, he would not answer unless she answered first. So be it. She would say it. "It was you. That night. You are the man who saved me in the alleyway."

Stillness consumed him, as if he'd frozen over. "Yes."

She released a soft breath. "Why were you there?"

Reginald studied her quietly, a man of stealth waiting to see which direction she would bolt. "It was as you guessed those years ago. To kill your father."

She knew it, but still the admission shocked her. "But why? What did he do to you?"

"Damage enough."

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from cursing his reticence.

The silence between them stretched tight until Reginald spoke, low and controlled and just a bit bemused. "I admit the desire to kill one man, your father. Yet you do not question that I might kill another?"

She met his gaze without falter. "Capable, yes. But you did not. Just as you did not kill my father when you had the chance."

He blinked. Surprise? Or guilt? For an endless moment, she waited.

"You have given me your word, Reginald, and I will believe it." It was a true answer. But not the whole truth. "I will not run from you."

The wool of his frock coat whispered against marble as he turned to fully face her. She stared back, unguarded for a pained moment. Warmth filled his eyes. He understood. He took a quick breath, and his voice dropped. "You've no notion of the effect you have on me."