The warmth which attempted to curl through her at this recognition was easily washed away by the cold stain of guilt.
“Pray, excuse me, Lord Pottinger.” Wincing at the way her voice broke, she dropped her head, and try as she might, she could not force a smile. “I ought not to be here alone. It is only that –”
“You are deeply upset.”
The softness in Lord Pottinger’s voice had Tara blinking in surprise.
“I confess that I do not know why, but there is part of me that is very eager to understand what it is that burdens you. Perhaps we might be of aid to each other.”
“I do not know what you mean.” Tara shook her head, not able to look up at him. “I do not think I can be of aid to anyone.”
These last words were spoken with a heaviness that could not be kept from her voice. She did not know Lord Pottinger very well, but he was speaking with an honesty and directness which surprised her. Perhaps it was because she felt herself in such distress that she could not help but respond to the kindness in his voice and expression.
“Allow me to be blunt.” Lord Pottinger cleared his throat. “I have just seen you stepping out of a rather dark establishment in the East End, an establishment that I am eager to discover more about, to solve a puzzle that confronts me. I will make no demands of you and I certainly will not insist that you tell me what you were doing there, but perhaps you might feel able to tell me a little more about it.”
“Aah…”
Tara sucked in air. Everything she had feared was suddenly coming to pass. Her head swam and tears filled her eyes, then she swayed suddenly as dizziness struck her. His strong hand caught her arm, but Tara wrenched herself away, staggering slightly. She did not deserve his kindness, and the warmth of his presence near her brought so many confusing emotions that she simply could not stand it. A part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms, to tell him everything, and to beg him to forgive her, but she stood very still, her hands curled into fists.
“I have no wish to injure you, Miss Shaw.” Lord Pottinger stepped back from her, both hands raised placatingly. “I seek only to help you.”
“You cannot.” Tara’s voice broke as she shook her head. “Lord Pottinger, you cannot do as you seek, not when I–”.
She broke off, her eyes squeezing closed as the realization of what she had been about to say filled her with a sense of dread. She had been about to tell him that she had done him a great wrong, had been about to confess all. His gentle presence encouraged confidences, somehow.
“It is clear you are in great distress.” Lord Pottinger’s voice was softer still. “Something has happened to upset you. I have found myself in much the same situation and strangely enough, it is linked solely to the place you have only just come from. That is why I hoped we might be able to aid each other and that you would be able to tell me a little more about it.”
Tara shook her head but said nothing. A vision of her sister flashed into her mind. If she dared tell Lord Pottinger the truth, then what would become of her sister? Would the cruel gentleman who had set things in motion come to punish her for what she had spoken of? Would the happiness she had finally managed to achieve for her sister be dashed away?
“Perhaps I have made a mistake.” Lord Pottinger spread his hands and stepped back again. Tara’s heart twisted at the distance he had put between them. “I did not mean to injure you or burden you further. I thought only that we might help each other in some way. I am struggling with a great loss. I thought that perhaps if you were in the same situation as myself that we could be….” He shook his head, his lips flat. “It does not matter. If you do not wish to speak of such things, then I shall not demand it and I will not speak of it either. Not to anyone.”
“I thank you, Lord Pottinger.”
Tara did not say anything more, nor stay for even another moment beside him. Instead, she practically fled, running along the path which would lead her back to her father’s house. Fear drove her forward, screaming at her that the truth would, one day, come out, and leave her with nothing. All her endeavors would be for naught; both she and her sister would be flung from society and left to rot at her father’s country estate. Neither of them would ever marry and Mary, at some point, would blame her for everything that had happened. Lord Pottinger had discovered her presence in the East End – and perhaps he was not the only one who had seen her there. What if he’d had companions? What if they were less inclined towards silence than he appeared to be?
“He knows now that I was there.”
Sniffing furiously, Tara passed one hand over her eyes to wipe away the final trickles of moisture. She would not be able to stay far from him, as she had hoped. Now that he knew that she had been present in the very place where he had lost his fortune, she feared that he would not be contented to leave her alone. He would always be watching her, would always be waiting for her to come to talk to him in the way that he had so desperately hoped she might, today. His interest, no doubt, would be piqued all the more, given the fact that she had refused to say a single word.
Her feet stumbled again, and her breathing grew ragged as she made her way home. Blindly, she went inside, only to walk straight into someone.
“Tara, where have you been?” Mary’s voice broke into her thoughts and Tara could only shake her head, unable to find an answer which would satisfy her sister. Immediately, Mary’s voice became thick with concern. “Whatever is the matter. You are very pale indeed, and your hands are so cold. Have you been crying?”
Tara opened her mouth to say that no, she had not been crying, only for tears to begin to flood down her cheeks. The next moment, Mary had her in her embrace, and Tara could do nothing but sob. Somehow, she was brought into the drawing room and, after a short while, a cup of tea was pressed into her hand. Still, the tears came and, in turn, Mary became more and more concerned, her voice lifting in worry as she spoke to her sister. And yet, all Tara could do was sob.
“I knew something had been troubling you.” Mary shook her head as Tara finally managed to dry her eyes with her handkerchief. “This is because of me, is it not?”
“It is not because of you.”
Her voice was weak, but the last thing Tara wanted was for her sister to take the blame upon her shoulders.
“Again, you do not tell me the truth.” Mary spoke a little more harshly, leaning forward so that she could see Tara’s face a little better. “We sit here together, you and I, and you refuse to tell me the truth. I know that you have done something significant for me, and yet you refuse to tell me what it is. You have told me over and over that my difficult situation with that gentleman was quickly and easily resolved, but I cannot believe that to be true. Not when I see you now, not when I know that you have been absent from the house today without any real explanation of where you have been. Tell me the truth, Tara. Tell me, even if you fear that it will distress me.”
Tara’s heart cried out for her to remain silent, as she had done for so long, but instead she found herself speaking.
“You recall the evening that I discovered you in the arms of that gentleman?”
Her sister nodded.
