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Her eyes sharpen slightly, but she doesn’t berate or shame me.

“I didn’t tell Charlotte and Tiffany, obviously, but they came into my room this morning and saw…” My voice fails. I force it back. “There was blood on my sheets.”

Hazel draws in a breath.

“They thought it was Mr. Stanley,” I say quickly. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t him.”

She squeezes me. “I believe you.”

I nod, because if I try to thank her, I’ll cry harder. “They kept saying things. Calling me things. And then Charlotte asked if it was a Vexley, and I guess I reacted, and then—” I stop.

“It’s all right,” Hazel says.

“I lost my temper,” I whisper. “I shoved her. Then we were fighting, and Tiffany got involved, and Audrey came in. She took their side, of course.” I wipe my eyes. “She called me…”

My throat closes around the word.

Hazel simply nods, her eyes softening. “Audrey Steppe may be head of the household, but she’s an evil bitch.”

I can’t help a soft laugh.

“Besides,” Hazel continues, “you’re far from the first woman to give herself to a man she shouldn’t have.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“Good. That means you’re alive.”

“That’s not exactly comforting.”

“It isn’t meant to be. Comfort rarely helps as much as truth.”

I wipe my eyes again. “Did you ever?”

Hazel gazes out the window, silent for a moment. Then, finally, “Yes.”

My breath catches.

“Years ago,” she says, “I had an affair with a married man.”

Married? I hold back a gasp. At least Nathaniel isn’t married.

“Was he…” I stop because the question feels intrusive, and I’m not even sure which question I mean. Was he kind? Did he love you? Did he hurt you? Was he worth it?

“He wasn’t mine,” she says. “I should have known better.”

“I’m sure you did.”

She smiles, sort of. “Yes, I did.” Silence again, until, “I got pregnant. With a baby boy.”

I clasp my hand to my mouth. “You have a son?”

“No,” Hazel says quietly. “I don’t.”

I don’t want to press further. I don’t like what I’m hearing and am terrified of hearing more.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to say I’m sorry. Or ask questions. Or pretend not to understand, which I don’t, really.

So I choose the only thing that seems kind.