He thought she’d somehow known all along, from the moment she’d shown up at his office yesterday morning. He believed in women’s intuition, and the two sisters had obviously been incredibly close. From what she’d told him yesterday, Evelyn had been the only family Jocelyn had left except for her young son.
“I’m sorry, Jocelyn. I’m so sorry,” he said again, loving the feel of her name on his lips, her silky damp hair against his face, her soft curves against his hard edges. She smelled delicious, like lavender and vanilla. He was a bastard for noticing such things when she was in so much pain, but how could he not? When she’d opened the door and he’d seen her standing there in nothing but a robe that clung wetly to every inch of her, it had been all he could do to get out any words at all.
It could have been five minutes or five hours that he held her as she cried, but at long last, her sobs subsided to hiccupping breathy gasps. “I’m getting your shirt all n-nasty,” she finally managed.
“Don’t worry about that,” he whispered, his heart aching for her. “I’m just so sorry I had to be the one to come here and tell you this terrible thing.”
“I’m glad it was you,” she told him, curling her hand in the fabric of his shirt, suddenly sagging bonelessly against him, as if all the fight and emotion had gone completely out of her. “If it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you.”
He hugged her tightly, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t ask any more questions, that he wouldn’t have to tell her exactly what had happened to the lovely young woman who had been Jocelyn’s sister until that monster had worked his murderous wiles on her.
“Tell me what happened,” she whispered, making no move to leave the comfort of his lap.
He sighed, knowing that he had to tell her but searching for the right words. How could he tell a gently bred, aristocratic woman like Jocelyn what had been done to her sister? Could she ever get over such a thing? Although he’d seen such things more times than he cared to think about, it never got easier, and the women The Viper had brutalized haunted his dreams.
“She was in the gardener’s shed in Postman’s Park,” he said quietly, brushing a few damp strands of lovely auburn hair from those tear-filled green eyes. “I should have broken the damned door down while we were there, but instead, it took an entire day for the gardener to be found. Then the key didn’t work, and they had to cut the lock off anyway.” He took a deep breath. “Someone murdered her, Jocelyn.”
“Why?” Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she tried to come to terms with what he was telling her. “Why would anyone do that to my sweet sister?”
He shook his head, unable to tell her the worst of it, not right now. He didn’t want to tell her that it had been The Viper, nor that he had left a note with the word whore scrawled across it at her feet as he had with the girls from Mercy House.
Lady Evelyn Lindsay had obviously led a secret life that Jocelyn knew nothing about.
“I should go,” he said, filled with new purpose. There were a million things he could be doing now that there was more evidence to process. He hoped to God that the bastard had made a mistake this time, left some evidence behind that would help them to figure out who he was.
“I know,” she murmured, and he swore there was regret in her eyes. Did she want him to stay with her as much as he wished he could? “Thank you so much for coming, for being the one to tell me.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Jocelyn.” He wished like hell it had been anything but this that had brought him to her bedroom tonight. Still, he was glad he had been here to offer her comfort.
She turned her head in an attempt to keep him from seeing the fresh tears that welled up at his words, and his heart clenched once more for having been the one to cause them. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she slid off his lap and stood in front of him, the light from the fire in the hearth dancing across her scantily clad figure.
“Please forgive my scandalous behavior... Sebastian,” she told him, still unable to meet his gaze. “I’m afraid I was quite overcome.”
“Don’t apologize,” he told her, getting reluctantly to his feet and staring down at her bowed head, her auburn hair still damp and falling wildly across her shoulders. He’d never seen anything quite so lovely or erotic. He wanted to press his mouth to that sweet spot at the base of her neck and simply breathe her in. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”
“I need to make arrangements for her funeral, her burial.”
“I’ll let you know when the—when she can be released to the family.”
“What do you mean?”
“The police are still gathering evidence from her. They’ll need a few days.” He said it as gently as he could.
“I... I don’t know how this happened,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “How c-could this happen to Evelyn, who was the sweetest of souls?”
“I don’t know, but I promise I’ll find out. I promise I’ll find the bastard who did this.” The words were a vow that he made not just to her but to himself.
She looked up at him then, those lovely eyes still full of tears, her rosy lips trembling. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman so badly, nor known more deeply that he couldn’t. The sweet fire they’d kindled had to be halted. It was the last thing she needed right now.
“I believe you,” she breathed. “I know you will.”
No one in his entire life had ever put their faith in him the way this woman had, and he felt the weight of it to his toes. He would not let her down. He couldn’t.