Page 85 of The Heart of an Earl

“Yes.” His voice turned into a roar. “I’m not married. I love you, Jules and that has ruined me so fully I haven’t even been able to touch another woman since I last held you.”

She sucked in a breath, her head tilting down as she pinned him with narrowed eyes. “But I saw you. I heard you with that woman in the gardens—she was going to embarrass you.”

His head shook. “She’s my daughter, Jules. My daughter.”

She fumbled a step backward, and then another. “You have a daughter?”

Des nodded. “Yes. Vicky. She’s Corentine’s daughter. I never knew she existed. I read in that letter on thePrimrosethat Corentine had died and I assumed the babe had died with her. The letter was taken from me before I read it through.”

Jules exhaled a weary breath. “By Redthorn.”

He nodded. “If I had known, I would have gone back for Vicky. Immediately.”

Jules looked past him, her head shaking, her gaze on the white stripe of the horse’s black nose.

Redthorn.

Of course.

Of course everything went back to that one moment in time. That blasted second he had boarded thePrimrose.

Her gaze shifted back to Des. He still kept his distance. Smart man. “How did you discover she was alive?”

“I went back onto theFirehawkafter I learned you were dead. I was on it for five years. And then I was found.”

“By whom?”

“By my brother-in-law.” A slight wince crinkled the edges of his eyes. “The Duke of Wolfbridge.”

Her brows lifted high on her forehead. “The duke is your brother-in-law?”

He heaved a sigh. “Yes. And I am the Earl of Troubant—though I wasn’t at the time we met. My cousin took over the title as they believed me to be dead and I never dissuaded them from that notion. After Corentine died, I didn’t want to be an earl, couldn’t bear the thought of that life without her. I never told you and I should have.”

“What?” Her right hand lifted to her forehead, squeezing it. “Bloody hell—do I even know you, Des? Des—is that even your name?”

“Yes, you know it is.” He took a step toward her. “You know me, Jules. You know me better than anyone.”

“No.” Her hand ripped away from her face, her palm out to him to stop his advance. “No, I don’t. Do you realize all of this could have been avoided—my father—his manipulations—all of it? Had you told me we could have walked into Gatlong Hall and presented you as an earl and he wouldn’t have turned into the maniac he is. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I should have.” He stared at her, his face pained. “I kept it secret because I didn’t know you at first—the only one on theFirehawkthat knew of my past was Captain Folback. After Redthorn’s attack, after I left thePrimrosein port—knowing that Corentine was dead—all I wanted was to disappear and I couldn’t do that if I was the Earl of Troubant. So I wasn’t. I was just Des.”

Fresh ire spiked through her. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yes. After I got you home—settled.” His fingers ran through his hair. “That was all I wanted to do at the time, get you home. Get you safe. Because it’s what you wanted most. So I needed to get you to Gatlong Hall as quickly as possible and I didn’t want to upset anything before that.”

Her hand fell to her side and her eyes closed, her head shaking. “And home ruined me—ruined us.”

“Aye. That it did.”

Her eyes opened, her gaze centering on him. “Where were you, Des? You were shot but what happened? You couldn’t send word? You were supposed to come back for me—you swore you’d be back. And the next day passed and then another and another and I didn’t lose hope. I refused to give up on you—little good that did me.”

“Your father had me shot in the back as I left his estate. Shot and dumped in the river.”

“What?”

He nodded. “An elderly man fished me out of the water and his wife kept me alive—Ned and Jean Plinton—the both of them kind to their cores. After I could hold myself up again the very first thing I did was come back for you—but it was four weeks later. Your father apologized and told me you were dead—that’s when he showed me the grave. He was the epitome of a grieving father.”

“Four weeks? But that was when I was gone, searching for you. I went to Portsmouth.” Her hand went to her forehead and she exhaled a growl, her look going to the dark sky above. “My father has the blackest heart.”

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