Page 50 of The Storybook Hero
“It’s only fair. I have subjected myself to your scrutiny, and your laughter. You can hardly refuse to do the same.”
The blue of his eyes hardened into a stormy grey. “My story is not one that should sully the ears of a gently born female. Best leave it at that.”
“Oh no, that won’t fadge, sir. You won’t escape quite so easily. As you have seen, I am not so easily sent into a fit of vapors,” she said in her best governess tone.
Indeed, he did look a bit like a recalcitrant schoolboy as he tried to duck her question. “We have a long day ahead of us. I suggest you get some sleep.”
“Later.”
Seeing that she would not be put off, he let out a harried sigh. “Very well. My father was perhaps not as … poor as yours. I received a decent education, was sent to Oxford, where I made the first few missteps on my road to ruin.” A sardonic twist pulled at his lips. “One of those youthful slips resulted in my being sent down in disgrace. It caused an … estrangement frommy family and I have been on my own since then. There, now that should satisfy your curiosity.”
In fact, it was only piqued. “It is my turn to ask why,” she said softly.
His jaw went rigid. “Why I was sent down? For seducing the wife of a don,” he said roughly.
If he expected her to recoil in shock, he was wrong. She regarded him with a thoughtful expression, not one of scorn, and drew her knees up to her chest. “What makes a man do such a thing?” she mused aloud. “Was it just another game, or was she so beautiful and alluring that you were beyond all reason?” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I wonder, what would it be like to inspire such a passion in a man?” A resigned sigh followed. “Not that I shall ever know, of course.”
Her response, like so much else about her, knocked him off kilter. He wasn’t sure how to answer the complex questions she had raised. But what he did know in that instant was it was suddenly very important that she didn’t think him an unprincipled cad.
“I didn’t,” he blurted out. It was the first time he had ever told anyone the truth. “Didn’t seduce her, that is. I am guilty of many sins, but not of that one.”
Octavia took in his pale features and bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed you. You don’t have to talk about it … that is, unless you wish to.”
Surprisingly, he found he did. “The outraged husband has caught only a distant glimpse of the tall, dark fellow dallying in the field with his wife. My friend was a brilliant student, with a promising future. He was, however, quite unschooled in the ways of the world. When the lady—a lady well experienced in the subject—encouraged his advances, he was too naive to realize the consequences.”
Alex paused to jab a stick at the burning coals. “My friend’s family had no money or influence. His life would have been ruined had he been expelled from university, while I … I had already earned a reputation for reckless behavior.“ His lip curled in self-mockery. “The lady was happy enough to go along when the blame was shifted to a rakehell scoundrel. And no one else found it difficult to think me the guilty party—after all, what else could be expected from someone who had killed his brother.”
She gasped, but then her chin tilted up. “I don’t believe you capable of such a thing. Not for an instant.”
“Oh, not intentionally.” He ducked his head to hide how much her simple statement affected him. “But it is true all the same.”
Slowly, haltingly, the story came out—Jack’s invitation to join in a lark, the bottles of brandy, the exhilaration of the wind and waves. And then the storm.
“If Jack hadn’t had so much to drink … if I hadn’t been foxed as well,” finished Alex in a near whisper. “We might have been able to handle the sails. Or at least, when our sloop capsized, he might have been able to keep a grip on my hand. I should have been able to hold on. But I couldn’t.” He turned away to toss another piece of wood on the fire, but the flare of light caught the anguish in his eyes.
Octavia said nothing,but reached out and touched his arm. He looked for a moment as if to brush her hand away, but then, as she slowly pulled him close, his head came to rest on her shoulder. She simply held him tight.
He lay very still, except for a slight heaving of his shoulders. When he finally looked up, his emotions were once more underrigid control, save for a note of uncertainty in his voice. “It is a good thing Emma is not awake to witness such a craven display of spirit. What a pitiful hero I should appear in her book.”
“Valancourt is fashioned out of paper and ink while you, sir, are cut from real cloth. It is easy to be perfect when you are no more substantial than a dribble of ink from someone’s pen. You have been way too hard on yourself. We would not be human if we didn’t make mistakes. Or have regrets.” She paused for a fraction. “You have nothing to be ashamed of , Mr. Leigh. Though you may consign my opinion to the devil, I counsel you to talk with your father and make him see the truth. Both of you would feel infinitely better for it.”
“It is too late for that. He’s gone.”
“What of the rest of your family? Have you siblings?”
“Two older brothers. We are also estranged.”
“Don’t be a fool. You must settle things with them. Promise me you will.”
“What you ask is?—”
“Please.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “Very well. I promise I will try.”
Octavia make a show of shaking out the blanket that had been draped around her shoulders. “Well, perhaps we should get some sleep ourselves. I’m sure in the morning, things will not appear quite so dark, and we can devise a plan worthy of our favorite author.”
His lips twitched.
