Page 25 of Buon Natale, My Wicked Rogue
They had been discussing the death of her dog. Then, her wedding night. She’d told of countless times Jacob Berry had made fun of her in front of his associates and how he had taken her love and trust and used it to humiliate her. And now Evan felt like a brute. She was sobbing now, quietly, with her foreheadagainst her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs. That tightness in his chest seemed to break. He caressed her head. “What is it, my love?”
He could hear the hoarseness in his voice. He had barely choked the words past the huge lump that had seemed to lodge in his throat. “Trust is so important,” she said, her voice filled with aching sadness.
His stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard against the rise of acid in his throat. If he confessed to her now about all of his deception towards her, she would only hate him. She would likely run from this hunting lodge as fast as she could. And then parted from her, how would he be able to protect her? “Yes, Angela, trust is important.”
“Especially between lovers.”
His stomach lurched again, harder this time, and the ache went twisting all through him. “Yes, especially between lovers.”
“I lied to you, Evan.”
He caught his breath again. Here it was. Her confession. She was really a spy. They would have to flee England. That much was clear. He would be abdicating his title. No matter. One of his distant cousins could take his place as his uncle’s heir. What did it matter to him now?
Without Angela, his life would be meaningless.
“It doesn’t matter, Angela. Tell me, whatever it is, please tell me.”
“My father.” It wasn’t easy to understand her. She was as hoarse as he was.
“Your father?”
“My father isn’t dead, at least not yet. He isn’t an Italian merchant. He’s here in England.” she gulped back a sob. “He’s the Duke of Amesbury.”
“Amesbury?”
“He’s dying. I have never even met him. H-h-he wrote to me. He actually wrote to me for the first time in my life. He’s dying, and he wants to see me.”
The chills that had been crawling over his scalp melted away, and the hard knot of dread in his stomach began to ease. “Well, that’s not so terrible.” He ran his hand through his already mussed hair. “I mean, it is not good that your father is dying, but if he wants to see you and you want to see him, we can go there and see him. We can leave in the morning.”
“No, you don’t understand. I went there, to his estate, when I first arrived in England. His heir told me that he was too sick to see anyone. The heir, Edmund, such a sweet boy, was quite nice about it. A little young to be given such a task, I’d thought. Later that night, my father’s duchess came to my chamber, and she warned me that I had better leave in the morning and never return. She said that my father had spent quite enough of his money on me already, and I’d better not expect anything else from his estate, or else I’d be sorry.”
The look she gave him was so tragic that something deep inside him twisted and broke. Then heat surged through him, rage like he had never known.
No one had the right to hurt her like this.
No one.
“I lied to you about something else. I lied to myself because it was too painful. Jacob did tell me why he was disappointed inme. I tried to tell myself it must have been something else. But I know it is the real reason.”
An increased surge of burning anger made him grit his teeth. He didn’t give a damn what Jacob thought or said. But since she sounded so miserable, he asked, “What was that, my love?”
“He said I was not demure. He said a woman should be demure, in her dress, in her manner, and especially in bed.” Her chin quivered, and her voice grew weaker at the last word. “I tried to be demure for him. I tried to behave in the ways he suggested. But it was too late. He was already so disgusted.”
He could hold back no longer. “He wasn’t right.”
She flinched, and he regretted his tone. However, there were limitations on what a person could hold back.
“Not right?” She sounded confused.
He ran a hand over his hair, took a deep breath, and attempted to modulate his tone. “There was something wrong in your relationship with him. He wasn’t honest about something. Maybe he wasn’t even honest with himself. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re an exciting woman, in and out of bed.”
She looked at him with dazed eyes, and her face looked pale.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
She nodded.
“If you ever start doubting what I’ve said, come to me, and I’ll set you right about it again. Promise me?”
