Page 74 of The Mistletoe Countess
“And much like Athos, I thought myself in love with a woman whose heart belonged to her own chicanery. Once she realized she could gain a title and fortune through my brother, her affections conveniently transferred to him.”
She thought about the portrait she’d seen of Frederick’s brother, Edward, then looked back at her roguishly handsome husband. “What a poor choice on her part.”
“Darling.” His smile flickered, and he slid his knuckles against her cheek, eyes glistening bright again before he sobered. “It seems Father was somehow involved in the entire affair with Celia, but I was never privy to the nuances. Celia and Edward were married, and by all accounts quite happily until before Father’s death. I tried to stay away in London as much as possible, but when Father became ill, I returned home. He was a shadow of his former self. Agitated. Delusional. Grabbing my hands and calling out, ‘My son,’ as he’d never done before. Perhaps regret tendered his heart toward me near the end, but I cannot know.”
“And you had no comforting mother to help you.”
His gaze gentled on her. “No, in fact, she barely left her room the last two weeks of Father’s life, living like a recluse in her apartments with only her maid as company.” His brows knit tightly together as he tilted his head in some sort of deep contemplation as he looked at her. “Your presence is a comfort, though.”
“As yours is to me.”
He kissed her hands, shaking his head as the conversation fell silent.
“What happened that sent you to India?”
His smile faded, his gaze distancing in memory. “I’d learned caution around Celia, but in my grief, I’d forgotten to keep up my guard. With the desire to be of assistance to my brother, I stayed on at Havensbrooke for a few months, and with each passing week, Celia’s attentions toward me became more demonstrative.”
Grace’s palm came up to cover her mouth. “Oh, she is perfectly Lady de Winter.”
“One night I woke, and she was in my bed. I was grieving, lonely, and when she began to make advances, I lost my senses for a moment.” His gaze bore into Grace’s. “But only a moment, and then I moved to get out of the bed, but Edward must have suspected something, because he arrived and saw us together.”
“Poor Edward,” Grace pressed her hand to her chest.
“Yes.” Frederick groaned. “Of course, Celia turned the story around, claiming I’d been the pursuer.”
“And Edward believed her,” Grace whispered.
“She was his wife.”
“Someone needs to challenge her to a duel.” Grace growled. “If I ever meet her in person and learn to use pistols, I may challenge her to a duel myself.”
“I appreciate your protectiveness.” He offered a weak chuckle and cradled Grace’s chin with his thumb and forefinger. “But I hope you never meet her. She is neither safe nor kind, and no amount of your sunshine will change her.”
“Is that why you were sent to India?”
He sighed. “I joined a military outfit. I’d never gone from home for so long, and it pained me in a way I hadn’t expected. This place, this land, is a part of me, and to leave in such a shameful fashion?” His shoulders sagged, feeling the weight. “I wrote to Edward several times, begging his forgiveness, attempting to explain, but he never replied. I remained in India until I received a letter from Mother about my brother’s illness. He died the day I arrived. I’m the one who discovered him.”
“How horrible for you.” She touched his cheek.
“Itwashorrible. He must have died in such agony, from the way I found him.”
Grace’s thoughts spiraled back to the state of the east-wing study. Had Edward known he was dying? Is that why he wrote the letter? “Then what happened?”
He came out of his trance-like state. “I attempted to sort out our family’s finances, which had been left in ruin from both Father’s and Edward’s misuse. I’m still trying to place some order into their tangle of debt. Then Mother met your sister and father in London, suggested the proposal to me, and the agreement was struck.”
That was all? Since she’d imagined him murdering his father, joining some slave trade in India, and harboring a secret wife, the truth proved much less shocking.
“Why were you so afraid to tell me this, Frederick? You desperately sought love because your family didn’t give it and lost your heart to a vile woman who didn’t recognize what a very good man she’d rejected.” She shook her head. “I imagined much, much worse.”
He paused, his gaze shifting back to their hands, and a sudden foreboding caught in her throat. “There is one more thing.”
She braced herself. Hehadkilled someone! And he was rather roguish. Perhaps he truly was a pirate, but then he wouldn’t have to marry a rich woman, would he?
“I have a daughter.”
“You…you have a daughter?”
“She’s five years old. She was the child born to the tenant’s daughter. Her name is Lily, short for Elizabeth, and she lives as a ward of my estate.”
