“Where did you get those scratches?” he said. There was an odd inflection in his voice, and I remembered that he’d seen the Beast’s scratches on countless bodies. He knew exactly how the claws cut through skin, how far apart the spacing was. Of course he would recognize them.
“Montgomery . . . ,” I said in a rush. I could feel the intimacy of the moment slipping out of my hands, and I grabbed his arm to keep it there.
He pulled out of my grasp and stood, pacing by the fire. “You said you hadn’t seen Edward before tonight.”
“Stop pacing, and I shall explain.”
“You said you hadn’t seen him. You lied to me.”
“I never actually said as much—you just assumed. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“He could have killed you!”
“You think I don’t know that?” I snapped, standing to face him. I chewed on my lip, trying to focus my thoughts. “Of course I know he’s dangerous. I think about that every minute, every second! Each one of his victims died because of me—each one had wronged me. One was a girl I used to know from the boardinghouse, who stole Mother’s ring. One was a member of Parliament who beat Mother and me, many years ago. Another was the solicitor who commandeered our fortune on behalf of the courts. None of them angels, though none of them deserved death. I’ve been living in a prison of fear ever since Edward came back, so don’t you dare try to tell me I’m ignoring how dangerous he is.”
My words ended short, and I took a few breaths. “But there’s good in him too, and it’s worth saving. He’s as desperate to stop the Beast as the rest of us. He’s trying to cure himself, and he asked for my help. Perhaps if you’d shown the same compassion—”
“Compassion?” he hissed. “Why would you have sympathy for a monster?”
“Because we’re not so different! I know what it means to be experimented on. I’m in need of a cure just as much as Edward. He and I were working together. We were making progress, until . . .” My hand went to the scratches on my shoulder. “It’s getting harder for him to control himself. The Beast gets stronger each day.”
“You should have told me,” he said. He went to the windows, pushing aside the curtains to look down on the world below.
“Well, I’m not the only one keeping secrets,” I said.
His head jerked up, eyes fixed with the intensity of a hunter. “What do you mean?”
“Edward said there are things you haven’t told me.”
He crossed the room to stand beside me. “What did he tell you?” The quick, almost desperate quality to his movements proved Edward right. Montgomery was hiding something, and he was a terrible liar.
“The letters, for one.”
“I told you, I never read them. Moreau told me they were just business transactions. Funding for the supplies he needed.”
“And you never thought that his financial backers expected something in return for their payments?”
He ran a hand over his face. “I made mistakes, Juliet. I admired your father. I loved him. I didn’t question things that I should have. But it would be a mistake now to let Edward live.”
“Just as it’s a mistake to let Balthazar live? Why an exception for one and not the other?” I snapped. He threw me an aggravated look, which I returned. “Balthazar’s a good creature, but so is Edward. You’ve just never understood him. Not like I do.”
There was a tenderness to my voice I hadn’t intended, and it made Montgomery stop his prowling. “How is that? As a friend?” His eyes drifted to the bare skin of my shoulder. “Or as something more?”
My jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare throw accusations.”
But jealousy had gotten its fingers deep within him, and he wasn’t about to stop. “Did he tell you lies about how he loves you, how he’d do anything for you? Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him back?”
Instinct brought my hand toward his face to slap him, never mind that he was dangerously close to the truth. But he caught my wrist before it made contact. His breath was coming fast; mine was faster.
I said in a rush, “You were right. Edward did try to kiss me, and I let him. I let him do more than that too, because he came back for me. He truly loves me.”
Montgomery’s eyes went wide. I’d gone too far, I realized. He’d hurt me, and so I had hurt him. But love wasn’t about swapping wounds, tearing each other apart. We weren’t animals. I bit my lip, wishing I could take those words back. Wishing they’d been a lie, instead of the truth.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You were gone. I thought I’d never seen you again.”
I reached toward him, but he jerked away. “You think I don’t truly love you?” he said, and then muttered something under his breath and stormed toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I demanded.
“To find Edward and put a bullet in his head.” He vanished through the door, letting it fall closed behind him. I heard the stairs groan and the front door slam as he disappeared somewhere out in the cold night.
I threw on my coat and slippers and opened the door to run after him, but tripped over a gigantic mass asleep a few feet outside my bedroom door. I would have landed against the hard wood loud enough to wake the entire household if Balthazar’s sleeping bulk hadn’t broken my fall.
“Balthazar,” I whispered, scrambling to sit up as his hand found my arm. “What are you doing out here?”