Page 69 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

“We must talk,” he said quietly.

She smiled lazily. “Oh, I think your body did all the talking necessary, Duke.”

He brought his hand to her face and smoothed her hair from it.

“My father gave me away when I was eight years old.”

Horror filled her face. “Anthony?”

Her palm went to his cheek, caressing it. She didn’t ask him anything, for which he was grateful. Gradually, words spilled from him.

“I suppose I was a difficult child. I constantly got into trouble. My mother died giving birth to me. I know Theodore blamed me for her death and I think my father did, as well. Theodore bulled me unmercifully. The duke turned a blind eye to it. He favored his heir and had no use for me.”

He smoothed her hair again. “I fought a lot with other boys. I never received any attention at home. Everything was always about Theodore since he was the heir to the dukedom. It’s... as if I never existed. I was ignored. The longer it went on, the more the anger built within me. Then I used my fists because how could I use words? How could I tell other boys while they talked about their families—and I had none?”

She placed her head against his chest, stroking it lightly. He guessed she knew how hard this was for him and it might be easier for him to speak without seeing the pity in her eyes.

“I used my fists all the time. I didn’t have any friends. I was asked to leave two schools because of my violent behavior. At the third school, Ridingham Academy, I was goaded by a boy who said some awful things to me and then blackened my eye. I went berserk, attacking him with all the rage within me. It took two grown men to pull me off him. The duke came and was informed that I could no longer attend school there.

“He told me he had no use for me. That his time would be spent grooming Theodore into the perfect son and heir. He dropped me at Aunt Constance’s that day. I never saw him again.”

Warm tears covered his chest. Laurel lifted her head, her eyes swimming with them.

“I’m so sorry.”

“He abandoned me. Never wrote to me once. The hate I had for him grew and grew until rage was the only emotion I knew. I lied to Aunt Constance as I got older and told her I was taking my holidays with friends when I had none and merely stayed at school. I cut myself off from anything that resembled family.” He sighed. “On my eighteenth birthday, a solicitor came to see him. He notified me of a commission being purchased for me by the Duke of Linfield. I went into the military and never looked back.”

“Anthony.” Laurel kissed his cheek softly. “There are no words I can share that can comfort you.” She bit her lip. “I have insisted you spend time with my family. I’m sorry. I never knew how truly awful your childhood was.”

“It made me strong. Stronger than all the other men around me, especially officers who came from families who’d coddled them. I displayed no emotion to others. I bottled up the anger which surged through my blood and directed it at the enemy. I had a clear mind and was a brilliant strategist. Wellington saw that in me. He listened to me, more often than not. I was fearless on the battlefield because I didn’t care if I lived or died—because I had no one to come home to.”

She lay her cheek against his for a long while and then raised her head and looked him in the eye.

“You have me now. I have enough love in my heart to take care of you. I cannot change your past but I can love you now and forever.”

He stilled. “You love me?”

“I do,” she admitted. “I know I wasn’t supposed to. Because of my own childhood and circumstances, I never believed in love. When you were forced to wed me, my head told me it was nothing more than a business arrangement.” She smiled. “But somehow you slipped into my heart, Anthony. Yes, I love you. I don’t expect you to love me but it doesn’t matter. I have so much love for you that I hope I can heal your heart.”

“I love you, Laurel.”

She shook her head. “No, don’t feel you have to echo my words. You desire me. I understand that. Passion doesn’t equal love. It doesn’t matter. You are a good man, Anthony Godwin. You have been a good husband and will make for an excellent father.”

“I haven’t always been a good husband.”

She smiled wryly. “Well, I haven’t been an ideal wife.”

He cradled her face. “I am speaking from my heart, Laurel. That black, empty hole that has been there for so long. The one that I thought rendered me dead inside. It’s not gone at all. You brought me back to life, sweetheart. I fought hard to push you away and hang on to my anger. Whenever I feared you grew too close to me, I distanced myself from you. I didn’t think I was good enough for you. I still feel like a fake. A pretender. I was never meant to be a duke.”

“I feel the same. I’m a poor girl from humble means, not some grand duchess. I’ve never felt good enough to be your wife.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Oh, we are a pair. We are the Duke and Duchess of Linfield, though. Nothing is going to change that. We might as well enjoy it.”

“Is that why you don’t wish me to call you Linfield? Because you think of your father when you hear the name?”

He nodded. “Every day I thought of him and my hatred grew. Suddenly, after so many years of my heart and soul being twisted,Iwas Linfield.”

“It’s true. You are Linfield now but you can be the Linfield you want to be. When others speak of Linfield in society, it will be the kind, generous, wonderful, loving man that you are.”

“How did I ever deserve you, my love?” he asked, overcome with emotion.

Laurel smiled. “You comforted a sad young woman with a kiss, never knowing the price you would pay.”

“I would pay it ten thousand times over. I love you, Laurel. More than I ever imagined. The emptiness within me has filled with love and light—all because of you.”

Anthony made love to his wife tenderly, savoring her. When he finished, he rolled her on her side and nestled her against him, his arms keeping her close.

“Go to sleep, Duchess,” he said softly. “When you wake up, I will be here. I will always be here for you.”

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