things might be worse. She might be seasick or there could be a storm battering the ship. She took a deep breath and forbade herself of thinking about storms any longer. The last thing she needed were visions of sinking ships and herself at the bottom of the ocean.
She needed out of this room. She stood and crossed to the wardrobe, opening it enough to examine herself in Nick’s mirror. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see, and what she saw did not please her. She’d never been vain. She didn’t think much about what she looked like most of the time. She didn’t have to. As the only daughter in a family with five sons, she’d been petted and doted on. Plus, she knew she was pretty. She’d been told so every day of her life—except one.
She did what she could to tame her hair and pinch color into her cheeks so the circles under her eyes were not so apparent, and then she sat on the berth again and pulled her skirts to her thigh. Other ladies wore sheer silk stockings that were risqué and expensive. Ashley always preferred coarse, heavy cotton stockings. They hid her deformity completely.
She loosed the garters holding the ugly and, after the events of the last few days, quite shabby stockings and rolled them down over her right leg. The scarred skin looked redder and angrier than usual. She massaged it, which only seemed to make it ache more. If she’d been home, her lady’s maid would have brought her a calming compress. Even though she’d been burned years before, the injury still pained her the morning after a ball or after she’d physically exerted herself a bit too much. Her leg hurt now, but there was nothing for it. She would rather die before asking Nick for anything to help.
He knew about the injury, of course. He had to know. He’d never asked her about the ugly scar covering the length of one thigh and extending down to her calf. And that had to be why he’d rejected her after the night they’d spent together. He’d been disgusted by her. He couldn’t bear the thought of touching her again.
The scar was ugly, and she had no one to blame but herself. She’d been fourteen, old enough to know to be cautious around fire. But she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been teasing her younger brothers George and Devlin. She’d grabbed something away from Devlin and had been holding it so he could not reach. They were only a year apart, but she was taller than he—at least that year. She’d been having so much fun with her game, she’d not realized how close to the fire she stood, and when she twirled around, like the silly ninny she’d been, her skirts had caught fire.
The boys and one of the footmen had quickly doused the flames, but the thin muslin gown had not protected her skin from damage. She’d been in unbelievable pain for months and forced to stay in bed. Her family had kept the disfigurement a secret, and when she’d finally been healed enough to dress and resume her normal life, her mother had been the one to say what Ashley had been thinking.
“It’s too bad. You were such a pretty girl.”
She’d floundered after that, lost some of her confidence, but then she realized that no one need ever know or see her secret shame. Everyone would go on treating her as though she were perfect. No one need ever know how twisted and ugly she was underneath the beautiful skirts.
There were days she forgot about her imperfection. When she and Maddie had been running from the Duke of Bleven’s men, she’d done the only thing she could think of to distract them—run naked out from the woods. But, of course, it had been dark and no one had been looking at her leg. When Nick had found her, he’d wrapped his coat around her until they located her gown. As they walked through the forest, she’d thought they might have time to speak alone of what had happened between them all those months before, but then Mr. Dover—
that
was the dog-breeder’s name!
—
had appeared, and everything had
She needed out of this room. She stood and crossed to the wardrobe, opening it enough to examine herself in Nick’s mirror. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see, and what she saw did not please her. She’d never been vain. She didn’t think much about what she looked like most of the time. She didn’t have to. As the only daughter in a family with five sons, she’d been petted and doted on. Plus, she knew she was pretty. She’d been told so every day of her life—except one.
She did what she could to tame her hair and pinch color into her cheeks so the circles under her eyes were not so apparent, and then she sat on the berth again and pulled her skirts to her thigh. Other ladies wore sheer silk stockings that were risqué and expensive. Ashley always preferred coarse, heavy cotton stockings. They hid her deformity completely.
She loosed the garters holding the ugly and, after the events of the last few days, quite shabby stockings and rolled them down over her right leg. The scarred skin looked redder and angrier than usual. She massaged it, which only seemed to make it ache more. If she’d been home, her lady’s maid would have brought her a calming compress. Even though she’d been burned years before, the injury still pained her the morning after a ball or after she’d physically exerted herself a bit too much. Her leg hurt now, but there was nothing for it. She would rather die before asking Nick for anything to help.
He knew about the injury, of course. He had to know. He’d never asked her about the ugly scar covering the length of one thigh and extending down to her calf. And that had to be why he’d rejected her after the night they’d spent together. He’d been disgusted by her. He couldn’t bear the thought of touching her again.
The scar was ugly, and she had no one to blame but herself. She’d been fourteen, old enough to know to be cautious around fire. But she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been teasing her younger brothers George and Devlin. She’d grabbed something away from Devlin and had been holding it so he could not reach. They were only a year apart, but she was taller than he—at least that year. She’d been having so much fun with her game, she’d not realized how close to the fire she stood, and when she twirled around, like the silly ninny she’d been, her skirts had caught fire.
The boys and one of the footmen had quickly doused the flames, but the thin muslin gown had not protected her skin from damage. She’d been in unbelievable pain for months and forced to stay in bed. Her family had kept the disfigurement a secret, and when she’d finally been healed enough to dress and resume her normal life, her mother had been the one to say what Ashley had been thinking.
“It’s too bad. You were such a pretty girl.”
She’d floundered after that, lost some of her confidence, but then she realized that no one need ever know or see her secret shame. Everyone would go on treating her as though she were perfect. No one need ever know how twisted and ugly she was underneath the beautiful skirts.
There were days she forgot about her imperfection. When she and Maddie had been running from the Duke of Bleven’s men, she’d done the only thing she could think of to distract them—run naked out from the woods. But, of course, it had been dark and no one had been looking at her leg. When Nick had found her, he’d wrapped his coat around her until they located her gown. As they walked through the forest, she’d thought they might have time to speak alone of what had happened between them all those months before, but then Mr. Dover—
that
was the dog-breeder’s name!
—
had appeared, and everything had
Similar Books
