“Are you wanting a confession?” he finally asked. “Shall I tell you everything I’ve done?” She could only make out the vaguest shape of him, crouched in front of her. His breathing was still strained as he held her upright. She wondered then if they’d paused there so she could recover, or so he could. The dose of laudanum she’d taken had eased the pain splintering her head. A question rose to her lips, and she felt as if it was vital that she ask. She leaned forward, trying to see his face. “Do you want to?”
