Page 86 of Not his Marchioness
And yet he had never sought to assist any of them. Even when they told him their stories, which were usually sad.
“It is safer to try to help the climbing boys. More socially acceptable,” he said. “And of course, to establish a school.”
“Yes. But we forget that many of the children who are in need of such schools reside in areas like St. Giles. I think back to my youth, and I must say—I don’t know about your reputation as a rake, but I believe I could rival you. When I first arrived in London, I went to one of the clubs that employed lightskirts in their back rooms. But nothing happened. By that time, I was enthralled by Evelyn, though we were at each other’s throats constantly. But the idea of another woman when my heart was already hers? Impossible.”
Rhys scoffed.
“That scoff tells me that either you have experienced the same thing or you think me a fool.” Nathaniel smirked.
The challenge hung in the air.
Rhys shrugged. “This marriage is an arrangement for both of us, but I cannot deny that I value Charlotte’s opinion. I do not wish to lose it.”
“Which is why you’re helping her with the school.”
“Yes,” he affirmed. “But you are right. It is all well and good to build a school, but there are other matters. There is a young barmaid who frequents a gambling hall in St. Giles. I have not seen her for a month, not since I met Charlotte, but I would spend the night with her on occasion. Lizzie was her name. Sad story. She was young. I often wondered how she found herself in such a position. Her and others like her.”
Nathaniel wetted his lips. “I wonder if some of these people—not just them, but also those who cannot even afford the rundown homes in Whitechapel, and henceforth sleep on the streets—couldn’t have benefited from a school. Or any sort of attention. Yet nobles look at the rookeries, the poor areas of London, as places to wrinkle their noses at. Places to venture into when they want the thrill of excitement and the forbidden. Nothing more. They do not see them as people. Although I hear you.”
Rhys shrugged again. “I made it a point not to care. After my family died, I decided that it would be best for me not to care, not to have empathy.”
Nathaniel chuckled. “Yes. The wretched beast, empathy. I battled it in my youth, too. But it always finds a way back into my heart, and I cannot help myself, especially not with Evelyn as my conscience.”
“Sometimes I feel as though Charlotte wishes to be my conscience.”
“We need that on occasion,” Nathaniel murmured, his eyes back on the chessboard. He made a move and looked back up. “I have not spent much time with you, but it seems your feelings for my sister-in-law run much deeper than you first wanted to admit. I would not want to see her hurt, and I would not want her to be left wondering. So if there is something, perhaps you ought to talk to her.”
Rhys sat back. It had been six weeks since he got married. Sometimes, it felt like six months.
How their relationship had changed. They had gone through periods of arguing, quarreling, enjoying one another’s company, and had gone through moments of passion and then coldness. And his fear of being hurt had always stopped him.
But what if he wasn’t so different from Nathaniel? What if there could be a future for him, too, with Charlotte?
Nathaniel eyed him narrowly. “Are you afraid to acknowledge what is right for you?”
“I suppose I always feared that I might lose another person I cared for and that it might utterly wreck me,” Rhys allowed.
He was surprised that he could confide in Nathaniel in a way he hadn’t been able to confide in anybody else—not even Gideon.
“I always thought I might not be enough. I grew up a commoner,” Nathaniel said. But you have to accept who you are now. Your old life is gone. Yes, it was dreadful to lose your family, as it was dreadful to lose my father and the life that I had thought I would have. But you can embrace the life you have now. If you live in fury eternally, you’ll rob yourself of the chance of happiness.”
Rhys nodded slowly, then made his next move.
Nathaniel smirked. “That was a mistake.” He knocked off his bishop. “I think I may have given you too much to think, and you can no longer focus on the game.”
“No. I assure you, I am quite certain I can do both—contemplate my future and beat you at chess.”
“Well then,” Nathaniel said, rubbing his hands, “let’s see.”
As he focused on the game, Rhys felt something shift inside him. Something opened, like a string tied too tight and finally released with the flick of a knife.
Certainty flooded him. He now knew what he wanted. He had always known. And he wasn’t going to let his fears hold him back anymore.
CHAPTER 33
The following morning, Charlotte sat in the drawing room, going over the list of things that must be accomplished before the school opening.
“Busy?” Rhys asked as he walked up behind her.
