Page 39 of In Pursuit of a Christmas Bride
Henry’s body stiffened. He had expected nearly everything except that.
“I fell in love with an older man in Dublin. He was an actor, but once I was with child, he left me. I’ve raised my son here in London under the guise of my youngest brother, but he is mine. And Roger threatened to leak that to the gossip rags, knowing I would have to flee the city. He knew how precious my reputation was to me.”
“A son,” the duke repeated. “I can help. First, let’s see you two married, and we will keep the marriage a secret until Mr. Haskett is out of London…”
The duke continued, but Henry was too distracted watching shame wash over Tilly’s face. She couldn’t look him in the eye, and he didn’t like that one bit.
“What’s his name?” His voice was rough from yelling at Mr. Haskett.
“Hmm?” Then she finally looked up, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly, righting the world. There, that was what he had been looking for. Her smile. Her hands held in his. Her beautiful eyes, clear. “Ethan.”
Ethan.
“How old is he?”
“He’s five.”
Five years, well before London. Not that it mattered. It didn’t to him. “I don’t hate you. I don’t believe that to ever be possible.”
“We hardly know one another.”
“I look forward to correcting that.”
“Henry, this is ridiculous. We cannot marry. You are Earl Devlin now. You wish to marry a London actress?”
“I want to marry Matilda Brennan. You could be a fisherwoman for all I care.”
She laughed, wiping at her tears.
The duke approached and clapped his hand on Henry's shoulder. “See that Miss Brennan is looked after tonight. I will arrange for a small wedding by Christmas. Rest assured that your secret is safe with me. Good evening.”
Tilly and Henry left the duke alone in his office.
And Henry left betrothed, with a stepson he had yet to meet.
Tilly didn’t dareglance back as she walked to her rooms with Henry on her heels. She couldn’t stomach what would come once they found peace behind closed doors.
Embarrassment and shame twisted inside of her chest as she dragged in another breath.
She had needed help, and Henry had answered without wanting anything in return. But now they would both pay for her decision and would be married by Christmas. He didn’t wish for her to be his bride. He couldn’t.
And now he knew of Ethan and her past.
“I am sorry,” she said, clearing her throat as he shut the door behind them. Tilly circled the middle of her room and threw herarms out to her side, hanging her head. “I am not sure where to start…”
Henry reluctantly released the doorknob and dropped his hand to his side. His knuckles were bruised, and there was a cut by his mouth.
Tilly had done this to him, wrecked him. And now she had crashed into his life and tore that apart as well. Eventually, he would resent her and boredom would set in, and she would wither away while he installed mistresses around London.
“Look at me, sweet.”
Even his voice was rough. It cracked at the same time she felt her heart rip in two. She loved him, but now it was too late. They would never truly know what could have been because of this evening.
“Tilly.” Henry approached, stopping short at her feet.
She refused to look up, knowing full well she would tumble into those dark eyes of his and forget for a moment the evening they had just shared. “You must hate me. I understand. I hate myself.”
Henry bumped his fist gently under her chin, drawing her gaze up to meet his. “I love you. And I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you because I see in your gorgeous eyes that you don’t believe me. And that’s well enough. But you should know I am nothing, if not consistent, at being excellent at everything I do. That now includes being your husband.”
