IV. The Scarred Haverston

Once upon a Town...

Tommy was her first love. They were both seven when they met. He would not show himself in the main rooms, but he was always around with his mother, a servant in the manor, always following her everywhere until his father arrived to take him home.

Belinda would play with him if her mother was not around. They would go to the library where they would read books.

He asked her if they were friends.

'Of course, Tommy, we are.'

He had dreams. He wanted to be a doctor. Or a farmer. Or an inventor. He wanted to be many things. And she dreamed, too. And later, as they got older, her dream was to be with him.

*****

She sat before him atop his horse. He wanted to thank her when she pulled up her hood, muting the smell, but McKenzie was not ready to spite the woman. He already made a big mistake when he carelessly disregarded her claims during their first meeting.

As they traveled down the road, his horse hesitant in the darkness, he wondered what happened to her. There were too many questions.

Where did they take her? How did she get back? Who took her?

Did she deserve this?

He did not know the woman, never even talked to her. McKenzie was not spared from the stories about Belinda Carrington. His sister-in-law, Cressida, had the strongest opinion. Belinda had stolen secrets from Mary in the past and threatened her with them, even exposing one for the Town Herald to publish on its gossip columns. She tried to extort money from Mary when she could not have enough, but that bit was still an ongoing debate within their little family. Mary did not believe Belinda did it willingly, but Adrien and Cressida were fast to say that Mary was simply too good to think the worst of anyone.

McKenzie never bothered with the tedious and vile things women in the Town did, but he was inclined to judge when his family had been wronged. Cressida and Mary were family and he would not wish for them to be bothered by rumors spread by one such as Belinda Carrington.

"Will my father go to prison if it's proven he has made an illegal transaction to banish me aboveground?"

She had been silent since they started their journey that her question surprised him. "Yes," he replied.

She did not speak again until the lampposts lit up, signaling another day. Up ahead, the village of Oakley was yellow, rousing from sleep.

"They're heading to Wickhurst," she spoke again. "The men following me."

"Who are they?" he asked.

"I don't know. They can be anyone. But I don't want them to go to Julia," she said.

"I will send my men and make certain your sister is made aware."

"Thank you." And then she added, "I need a new dress."

"And food?"

"That's a given, sir."

And he provided just what she wanted. The moment they reached the tavern in Oakley, Belinda disappeared into her room, where her food and bath were waiting. McKenzie paid a servant to assist his friend with any type of clothing she needed, and also to send a messenger to Marsden for the two Guards he left behind. And then he, too, rested.

*****

Belinda knew her father was not foolish. He may be careless and impetuous in a game of cards, but his reputation, his status, was too great for him to ruin. If her suspicions were right, he might never get caught because he would do anything to preserve his place in society.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on the rim of the bath, letting the warm water soothe her tender shoulder. She felt clean after weeks of scant water in that small room in Willowfair. How long had it been since she had a decent bath like this?

The dress delivered to her room did not compare to the ones she had before her banishment, but was far better than the one she discarded. She fixed her hair in front of the mirror, careful not to scrutinize. Her hair did not smell like anything in particular, but it was clean. Her shoes fit perfectly, but they were too soft. She decided to wash her leather boots and let them dry for the journey tomorrow.

McKenzie Haverston told her he would take her somewhere safe. She would willingly go, but he would have to give her what she wanted. Not just his protection.

She jumped at the knock on her door. "It's me," McKenzie's muffled voice said from the other side.

Belinda checked herself in the mirror one last time, made certain her hair was tied neatly at her nape. The bruises on her shoulder poked out of the wide neckline of the blue dress, so she gathered the tail of her hair over it. Satisfied, she opened the door and let him in.

He gave her a swift look and just as quickly looked away. Her brow furrowed. Did he not like what he saw? Or did he simply not care? He turned and walked to the table, eyes landing on her empty plate. "You are full and clean," he said, taking a seat. "Well?"

McKenzie Haverston arched his right scarred eyebrow. It was small, but deep, as if someone smacked glass on his face and a fragment lodged into the skin. For a very tiny second, she wondered where he got it. A brawl? An accident?

He looked so big sitting in that chair, she thought. She had forgotten how big he was. In the past, he rarely attended balls; he and his brothers never liked such parties. She had merely seen him from a distance and, most especially now with the bright light, she was in awe at how intimidating the second Haverston brother could be. His presence made her want to cower so he would not spare her a glance. It could be his size, or the scar, or the way his eyes seemed to penetrate. It could be the tousled dark hair and dark bristles. Or it could be that he was a Haverston. A Town Guard. A man who knew her and her story. The same man who had seen her when she was in her prime, and then witnessed her in her worst and vulnerable state.

"Well?" he asked again. "Should we start our talk?" His voice was formal, yet there was a touch of something promising, like fun and adventure, like laughter and wit rolled into one. She shook the thought away and turned to lock the door.

"Do you mean our negotiation?" she asked, taking the chair opposite his.

"Before we make negotiations, I need proof that you have been aboveground."

"I brought nothing with me from aboveground." Her brow twitched at the lie.

"Surely you know things only someone from aboveground should know."

She met his powerful gaze unflinchingly. "What do you want to know?"

"Where were you taken?"

"A manor near the ocean."

His scarred brow arched. "And how many others were there?"

She shrugged. "I cannot count. We could only go out one at a time. But there were six when I arrived."

"When you arrived?"

"They held us in a basement first." She hesitated for a moment, reminded of the place. "There were five women and a child in a cell next to mine."

His handsome face hardened. "And how long were you kept there?"

The corner of her mouth twitched, because all she could afford now was a silent, mocking laugh. She could not cry. "A year. You do not have to look so horrified, Mr Haverston. Some would think I deserved it."

"Banishment is bad enough as it is."

Her lips stretched further as she regarded him with a curious look. "Have I satisfied your curiosity?"

"Not quite," he said. "Tell me about the sea."

Belinda shook her head. "If I tell you, will you truly believe me? I might have just taken the information from The World Above."

"Then have you read the book?"

"No," she said. "I'm not one of the lucky few who found a copy," she said, referring to the famous book long banned from the Town. It told stories of the world above, of things the Townspeople would call magical. Belinda sighed, rolling her eyes. "The sea is enormous. It will scare you at first, most particularly on a windy day. The waves were high, slapping against the rocks underneath."

"Underneath?"

"The manor was on a cliff," she said with a dismissive nod. "The sun sets behind the sea, painting the sky orange and violet, pink and blue. It is quite magnificent, with the clouds forming strips or clumps. The air is salty to the taste, yet it's also refreshing and soothing. The wind is typically as strong as the crash of water against the rocks. You could shout and never be heard because it's as angry as the screams. Like a woman scorned."

"You are saying you are scorned."

She shrugged. "They ruined my life."

You caused it upon yourself. Was he about to say that?

Her smile froze on her lips. Finally, there it was. The judgment in his eyes. He did not have to say it. It was loud enough. "I believe we have veered off topic," she said tightly. "Do you believe me now? I can tell you more about how their carriages work up there. They all them cars. And like the carriages here, the cars can tell you how much money someone has."

"And you have met someone with these cars?"

"No, but the clients come with them."

"Clients?"

She smiled at him. "Clients," she repeated, aware he knew what she meant.

His blue eyes cleared with understanding. "Men?"

"Sometimes women as well." She chuckled with derision. "Are you judging, Mr Haverston?"

His eyes flickered with annoyance. "I refuse to judge what you had to do to survive."

"If you say so." Belinda did not care, really. She had been judged far worse for lesser acts.

"I am curious about one thing," he said. "You may choose to believe this to be merely gossipmongering, but I need to know who I will be working with."

"You need to know more about me."

He smiled. "I hope you do not take offense, but I need to ask..." Belinda did not move and simply waited. "Why did you do it? Why did you risk ruining your reputation with Nigel Godfrey, a man who was twice your age?"

Her heart raced and her chest tightened. No one had asked her that question before. They simply skipped that part and judged. But she did not want to answer. It seemed irrelevant now.

She was tired of trying to tell everyone the truth. Even so, she felt she needed to say it because she was too proud to even lie about it. "He was not my lover."

His brows cocked high. "Because he died before something happened." He was trying to make her remember everything about that night, what happened before and after. That's all she could remember, really. The before, then after. But never the exact moment.

"Are you always this blunt?" she asked.

"Only when I need to know the truth."

"Then you are asking the wrong questions, Mr Haverston. You want to know if I killed him or not because it would make it easier for you to discern if what I'm telling you now can be trusted. Did I kill Nigel Godfrey?" The corner of her mouth lifted. "I believe the burden of proof is on you, not I."

This man was judging her simply because she was the Belinda Carrington; the vile, shallow chit who used her beauty to trick and enchant men, who gave the ladies a thorough lashing with her talented, sharp tongue. They all judged her for what she did, not why she did them.

"Now, if you think you can bear to work with someone with a questionable innocence, I wish to negotiate now. Otherwise, I would have to thank you for the food and the clothes."

"I feel used."

She held his gaze. "It will get better."

He frowned at her, as if he was trying to see through her words and demeanor. Well, Belinda hoped he could not hear the giant thuds in her chest. And she genuinely wished he was as ignorant as the people who shunned her. It would be terrible if he could sense how much she needed his help.

To her relief, he nodded. "Negotiation," he said. "What can you offer me?"

"Names." If he was surprised or pleased, he did not show it. He merely cocked a scarred brow. "But you shall not get them until I get what I want."

"I sense you will demand more than protection."

"Your protection will only last until you get what you want. I need something more."

"And what is that?"

"The most powerful of all, of course—money."

And there it was again—the clear understanding in his eyes. He must have expected it. To be fair, McKenzie Haverston was proving to be wiser than she thought. "You are planning to return to society."

Belinda managed a smile despite the hammering in her chest. "Yes."

"Why go back to the same society that shunned you?"

Is revenge not enough? That answer would bring her trouble, so she said, "I want to clear my name."