Promiscuity • a.u • Robbie Kay

~Sixteen~

It's as if my mind had left my body.

A steady ringing in my ears, not quite deafening, but enough to notice.

I will never forget the look on her face; the redness in her eyes and total and absolute fear written over and over all across her face.

"Emory." I got out, clutching her hands so tightly it must've hurt, yet she didn't pull away. "Is it Charles'?"

Charles was Emory's fiancé, whom she'd almost hated toward the end of their engagement, but somehow I felt that this was not his doing.

She shook her head. "We never."

I breathed out, feeling my heart beat faster. "Mr. Kay?" I whispered.

Slowly and shamefully, she brought her head up to meet my gaze. "Yes, Mirissa."

I swallowed hard. How can I be mad?

He had charmed nearly every proper lady in England, even myself, how could I be cross for knowing that my dearest friend had followed him to bed?

"When did this happen?" I asked.

"Right after the engagement ended." she said, tears trailing down her fire colored cheeks. "We were at his house in London for a dinner party."

I couldn't say anything. I couldn't tell her that the father of her child had seduced me in such a way that I nearly gave myself to him.

"I was so upset, Mira. I was in such a fog after Charles that I felt I would stay alone for the rest of my life. Somehow he.." she licked her lips to rid of the salty tears. "He spoke to me in a way that drew me to him. His words were soft and made me feel.."

"That he loved you." I finished.

"Yes, exactly." Emory said, surprised that I knew what she was to say before it left her mouth.

"Does he know?"

She shook her head again.

"Emory! You haven't told him?!" I asked, her hand quickly covering my mouth as she put a finger to his lips.

"I've come here to tell him. I heard he was here and seeing you would give me an excuse to confront him." she stated. "I don't know how he will take it."

"What can be done? This will ruin both of you, I can nearly assure that."

"Not if he were to marry me."

It stung.

Yes, how it stung to hear the words. Our conversation was still fresh in my mind, his very words branded into my thoughts like his hands on my skin.

I am not meant to marry, he'd said.

Surely, he could not abandon his own child. But would he marry a woman he cannot love to keep his reputation?

"You must tell him. Tonight, after dinner." I told her and she simply nodded her pretty head.

In a few moments, I had left her to change for dinner and retreated to my own room to draw a bath for myself.

The soap trailed again and again over my body, yet somehow I remained feeling dirty; damaged.

In a way, I was grateful for Varney walking in when he did as I would only feel worse if things had carried any further.

But knowing that he had touched her and spoken sweet words to her, made me feel I had been abused and it was all my own fault. I let him. I knew of him, and I let him.