Herbert ran his fingers along the line of my jaw. I closed my eyes. “There's no need to lie to me, Ginevra.”
His hand dropped to my leg. Groping fingers hitched up my skirts. The other fumbled at his pants.
Though his hands no longer held me, disbelief did. It shackled me.
He leaned against me; his naked flesh rubbed against mine.
“I will have you both. I deserve both of you.”
They were the last words Herbert Butterworth would ever say.
GINEVRA
1900 Now
Every second is a blur. I stand by the body, the gun—still warm—in my hand. The voices creep towards me as I imagine old age does. There is a moment of escape, escape I could take. I don't. I don't know who had seen what, who had seen Pearl. For her, I stay where I am.
The first voice I hear is that of Mr. Worthington. He's first i
