Page 25 of Captured By the Cold Duke
“It felt that way,” he said heavily. “From a very early age, he treated me with contempt. He told me outright that I had to earn his love, and never once did he say I had earned it. You cannot… you cannot know how that affected me as a boy.” He forced himself to look at her, surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“The first person who ever made me feel loved, or who convinced me that my father might be wrong, was your brother. From the day we met, he treated me with such unconditional love and trust that I could hardly believe it. I was sure at any moment he would realize his mistake, but he never did. He treated me like a brother, and when I was with him, I felt strong, and outside of my father’s control, for the first time.”
He gave her a very serious look. “That’s one of the reasons why, when Lord Breckenridge saw us outside that inn, I had to pledge to marry you; I could not imagine losing the love of your brother by making him think I would compromise his sister.”
Cherie swallowed, and for the first time since that fateful night, there seemed to be understanding in her eyes.
“Did your father treat you any better after you returned to India from university?” she asked at last.
“A little,” he said. “I was a man, so I could stand up to him. And I think he was afraid that if he was too hard on me, I would walk away from the family business. So he gave me just enough approval to keep me coming back for more, but never enough to truly satisfy me. We had a twisted relationship. He was cruel, I stood up to him, he would back down and lure me back in with promises that he’d changed, and I would hope he had, only to be disappointed again and again.”
There was a short silence, during which Thomas found it hard to look at his wife. It was hard to admit how worthless his father had made him feel—to her, to the woman who made him feel that he might have some scrap of value to offer.
But to his surprise, Cherie reached out and took his hand. For several seconds, she held it in hers, and they both stared at where their fingers touched.
It was this that gave him the courage to keep going.
“When I returned to find him on his deathbed, these were the subjects I tried to discuss with him. I wanted to know why he had always treated me so cruelly. It didn’t make sense to me; what had I done as a child that could have turned him against me?”
“Did you ask him?” Cherie whispered. “Did you ask him why he treated you so horribly?”
“I did,” Thomas said. His throat was very dry, and he tried to swallow, but couldn’t.
“And did he tell you?” His wife’s eyes were wide. He stared into those beautiful green eyes—those eyes that had bewitched him from the moment he first saw her; those eyes that had haunted him in dreams on the opposite side of the world—and he considered telling her the truth.
But how could he, when it would fill those eyes with hate?
It cost him more than he had thought it would to lie to her. “No,” he said, looking down and shaking his head. He cleared his throat. “No, he never said. He maintained only that he was trying to bring me up to be tough, that boys shouldn’t be coddled by their fathers.”
“Oh…” The disappointment on Cherie’s face was evident. “It would have helped you so much to get a clear answer. But perhaps that was the truth: he was simply a cruel old man who took out his discontentment on his son.”
“Yes,” Thomas forced himself to say. Cherie’s hand gently squeezed his.
“I’m very sorry,” she murmured. “I never knew your childhood was so awful. My brother never said anything.”
“He didn’t know. I never told him. I was too ashamed.”
“But it wasn’t your fault! You had nothing to be ashamed about!”
“Yes, but when you’re a child, you don’t understand that,” he said, shaking his head. “You think there must be something you did to make your parent hate you.”
She bit her lip. “I suppose I understand that.”
“Actually…” Thomas hesitated, then plunged on. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told about this.”
“Really?” she looked taken aback, then moved, as she stared into his eyes. “Thomas, that’s… it means the world to me that you would trust me with this.”
He smiled crookedly. “I just wanted to distract you from the storm. And look… all that thunder, and you didn’t even notice!”
Cherie started and then laughed. “Oh, my goodness, you’re right! I was so engrossed in your story I completely forgot about the thunder.” She looked slightly guilty. “Not that I was enjoying hearing about how monstrously your father treated you…”
Thomas laughed. “I understand. I’m pleased that my story engrossed your attention, even if it’s a tragic tale rather than a rousing adventure.” I would give you a fairy tale if I could. He glanced out the window; rain was no longer pattering against the glass. “I should let you get some sleep. I think you’ll be all right now. The storm seems to have passed.”
“Yes, I should get to sleep.” Cherie released his hand and stood up. “Goodnight. Thank you for the wax. And for everything.”
“Goodnight.” Thomas stood as well, then went to the door. As he closed it behind him, he snuck one last glance back into his wife’s room. She was curled up in the bed now, the box of wax open on her nightstand, the wax gone. “Sleep well,ma cherie” he whispered, and he was glad that she couldn’t hear him.
Ten
