Page 92 of The Rakehell of Roth
“I imagine that’s for her to share when she’s ready,” Kendrick said.
He swallowed hard. “Where is she?”
“Kendrick Abbey.”
Winter felt his chest squeeze, the withered organ inside batting fiercely.Fuck. When had he lost the very heart he claimed not to have? He’d repeatedly ordered her to go back, to return to where she belonged, and she had. It was what he’d wanted…what he’dthoughthe wanted, and now that she was gone, he wanted to beg her to return. The only place she belonged was in his arms.
“She left me,” he murmured. “I pushed her away because I don’t deserve her.”
A long moment passed before the duke cleared his throat. “I loved your mother, but her designation of love differed greatly from mine. In the world of theton, love doesn’t have much value, yet it is the most valuable thing we can hope to experience. And it’s worth fighting for.”
“I—”
“Let me finish,” his father said. “I know the duchess turned to you with her troubles—a burden that no young boy should have to bear. But you need to know the truth. She used my love, and yours, to serve her interests. Prudence got the worst of it.” Winter exhaled at the mention of his sister’s name. “She knew how much you adored that girl, as I did. Like Oliver, Prudence wasn’t mine in blood, but she was mine in every other way.”
The confession stunned Winter. Oliver’s parentage had been a shock, butPrue? He’d never suspected, though once more, hindsight was perfectly clear. It’d been in the way his mother had treated both Oliver and Prue—in her reverence toward Winter and her subtle disdain toward the other two. She’d been exacting on Prue, forcing her to play the pianoforte until her nails broke and fingers bled. Forcing her to be perfect. His sister had been treated as though she wasn’t good enough, because in their mother’s mind, she wasn’t.
“I should have seen it,” he muttered. “Done something.”
“I overheard Prudence once telling her maid that she could never measure up—she wasn’t beautiful enough, clever enough, talented enough. And that she was done because she’d found out the truth, discovered your mother’s infidelity and her lies, and nothing would ever change who she was.” A harsh sound ripped from his father’s chest. “I couldn’t save her, tell her she was loved and sowanted. I failed her.”
“We both did,” Winter said hoarsely.
His mother especially. He wouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he knew that he had to let go of the darkness that he’d kept clamped around his heart. The past, though not what he’d thought it to be, was in the past. He could only look forward. Start afresh.
“Isobel reminded me so much of her. Nothing will ever replace Prudence in my heart, but she brought so much light back to Kendrick Abbey. I couldn’t let you throw away one of the better things in your life, even if you think you don’t deserve it.” Kendrick’s eyes shone with something that looked suspiciously like pride. “And don’t think I don’t know about your shelter and the good you’ve done. I’m proud of you, Son.”
His chest clogged with emotion, Winter embraced his father, feeling suddenly as if all the pieces of his life were falling into place. All except for one…the one that would make him complete.
“I fucked up,” he murmured. “She told me she loved me, and I didn’t know what to say.”
Kendrick nodded. “That girl has loved you from the start, Winter, and I knew you weren’t as inured to her as you pretended to be, even when you left her on my doorstep three years ago. You had to get out of your own way first.”
“What do I do?” he asked.
His ever-proper father gave him a look that bordered on exasperation. “You bloody well go and get her, Son.”
…
Isobel sat on her favorite hill, looking out at the scenic undulating hills of Kendrick Abbey. Tenant farms dotted the horizon at wide intervals, the lush landscape and verdant fields stretching between them as far as the eye could see, her favorite lake twinkling in the distance. Usually the view brought her peace, stunned her with its breathtaking beauty. But today, like all the days she’d ridden out before, her chest felt raw and her heart heavy.
Everything hurt. Everything ached.
She plucked at a piece of thistle on her breeches. It seemed like she’d come full circle. This was the exact spot she’d come to when she’d found out about Winter’s opera singer…when she’d read and screamed about every previous one of his exploits. Now, however, she knew better. He was a man who helped the helpless, who gave hope to those who had none. Who hid all his goodness and all his light behind a rakish reputation. He was as wild as the season he was named after, her Winter, but he was beautiful all the same.
No,nothers.
A sob broke from her lips and Isobel put a hand up to her mouth to stifle any that might follow. She’d spent every night drowning in a sea of tears, crying for something that would never be. It was a dangerous thing to love the possibility of a man versus who he truly was. But if only he could see himself the way she saw him.
Isobel’s heart clenched painfully, wrenching a groan from deep behind her ribs. When was it going to hurt less? Would it ever? People said time healed all wounds, but she couldn’t fathom what she felt ever lessening in intensity. More fool her. She’d tried to guard her heart, but she couldn’t guard something that had already been given away. It would always be his.
“Fuck,” she screamed. And then let out a laugh. She missed his filthy mouth, too. His complete lack of propriety, his inexorable amusement, his raw earthiness.Him.
“Get over it, Isobel,” she said out loud. “You’re not the only woman to face heartbreak. You’ll survive.”
Maybe she might not have the same happy-ever-after that her sister Astrid had gotten with the Duke of Beswick, but that didn’t mean Isobel couldn’t have her own version of happiness. Hers would just have to include an absentee marquess. Maybe one day he’d become the man she knew he was.
As Isobel stared out at the bucolic countryside, her heart seemed to settle as if its master had come to some momentous decision. Shewouldbe happy.
