Heartless (The House of Rohan 5)

“I didn’t fuck him, if you prefer me to use more colorful language. It’s a word I know particularly well; I just don’t happen to like it very much.”

“So?” Melisande was unabashed. “If it wasn’t in your professional capacity, how did you meet him and when? And why is he acting like you’re a complete stranger?”

Emma’s head pounded, her heart ached, and she just wanted Melisande to go away. There were times when she wished she could cry—if she could just burst into tears Melisande would go into maternal mode, comfort her and stop with these incessant, painful questions. But Emma was not about to beg for mercy. She made it through life by facing difficulties head on and that wasn’t going to change.

“To him I am a complete stranger.” She took a deep breath. She’d learned that when something would be painful it was best done quickly, and she went on. “I used to volunteer at the soldiers’ hospital, remember? That was how I discovered my affinity for the medical arts. Your brother-in-law was one of the men I looked after when he first came back from the Afghan War. He was very ill, and he had no memory of who or what he was.”

“And?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Taking care of an unconscious man is not the sort of thing to make you react like this. It’s most uncustomary.”

“I didn’t say he was unconscious,” Emma muttered. “He was in a great deal of pain, but he was able to talk. And we did. Talk that is. It helped him get through the long nights.”

For a long time Melisande looked at her, saying nothing. “I see,” she said eventually. “And what happened?”

“Absolutely nothing. I came back to the hospital and he was gone. His family had discovered him, and he was whisked off to be properly cared for like the aristocrat he is, and his memory came back and he forgot all about me.”

“So you had this connection with him all this time, while Benedick and I were going about trying to stop the Heavenly Host, and you never said a word to me?” Melisande’s voice was prosaic, but Emma knew her too well not to miss the well-hidden strain of hurt.

“What was the point? He’d forgotten me, he was doing his best to kill himself with opium and anything else destructive he could find. There was nothing I could do, and you had enough going on. You didn’t need an unimportant fact like that distract

ing you.”

“An unimportant fact like you’d fallen in love with a lost soul who was bound up with licentious, murderous degenerates?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Who falls in love with someone they barely know?” Emma’s mouth twisted in a grim smile. “Whores know better than to fall in love.”

Melisande slapped her. The blow was swift and unexpected, though more shocking than painful. “That’s my dearest friend you’re talking about,” she said sternly. “Don’t you dare call her names.”

Emma managed a shaky laugh. “You’re far too good to me, Melly.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” There were bright tears in Melisande’s eyes, and the ache in Emma’s heart deepened. Melisande was uncharacteristically silent for a few moments, and then sighed. “You know, it would probably be better if you weren’t in love with him. And don’t waste your breath saying that you’re not—I’ve known you for many years—I can tell when you lie. If he ever did marry, his wife would have a lifetime of emptiness.”

Emma shot a glance at her. “She would not!” she said, knowing it was unwise of her.

“No intimacies, no children. . . his wife would have little useful role in the household.”

“No intimacies, no children,” Emma echoed, perplexed. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

“Why, his injuries. I hadn’t realized they were quite that extensive until Charles told me. He cannot perform a husband’s duties, he cannot father children. He’s a eunuch. But if you tended him you must already know that.”

Emma stared at Melisande in shock. “What?”

Even outspoken Melisande blushed slightly. “His wounds. He lost his. . . that is to say. . . well, Benedick was most upset.”

“I imagine he was,” Emma said grimly.

“I expect Charles managed to communicate the distressing situation with great delicacy to Miss Bonham,” Melisande said doubtfully. “Though a small, evil part of me would have loved to have heard him try.”

“Hmph,” Emma said.

“You don’t find the situation at least somewhat tragic?”

“Not particularly. I helped bathe him. He’s not missing a thing, and all would have been in working order. He’s been having somebody on.”

Melisande looked nonplussed for a moment. “Really? How odd. He must have been desperate to avoid Charles’s matchmaking skills. I shall have to reassure Benedick. . .”