Page 31 of A Kiss Of Lies

All his life he’d worried that he would become his father—evil, vicious, a bully. He could still remember, as a young boy, watching his father rape one of the maids, who’d been little more than a child herself. His father had no idea Christian was hiding in the linen closet, mere inches from where his father had the hapless girl pinned against the shelves. Christian had not really understood what was happening, but had been terrified by the girl’s muffled screams and the violence emanating from his father.

He could see the servant’s face and he watched the horror, pain and shock in her young eyes as his father raped her. He’d had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from being sick.

He could still vividly remember her collapsing in a heap on the cupboard floor, sobbing when his father had finished. There was blood on the front of her dress. It wasn’t until years later that he had understood what the blood had signified.

His father had stood over her, threatening her life if she so much as told a fly. She never did, and his father kept attacking her until she had got big with child, at which point he callously dismissed her.

Sebastian interrupted his thoughts. “Lady Harriet Penfold is still insisting it was you who abducted, raped, and beat her. Grayson is continuing to discreetly search for anyone who can come forward and refute that claim.”

“I can’t understand why the task is so difficult. I wrote and told Grayson everything, how I’d left the ball on foot and walked to the Honey Pot. Someone must have seen me.” He paused. “Surely Carla verified my story.”

Sebastian shifted in his seat. His fingers drummed the table.

“Well, did Grayson find Carla, as I asked?”

“He found her.”

The relief Christian felt was palpable. “Thank God. What did she say?”

“Not much, as her throat had been slit from ear to ear.”

Christian sat back stunned. He quickly gulped down the rest of his drink. Carla had been killed—because of him.

“Whoever set you up has done a very thorough job.”

“You believe me, then? That I’m innocent?”

“Of course,” Sebastian declared. “Your body may be scarred, but you’re the same person under that puckered skin. You have the same thoroughly honorable heart and soul that adds Carla’s death to your already overburdened conscience.” Sebastian leaned forward in earnest. “It shouldn’t. You didn’t kill her. None of us ever believed you raped the Penfold girl either.”

Christian studied the grain of the table, his thoughts welling with emotion. “That’s why I didn’t return to England sooner. I couldn’t remember. I—what if I had done it? You know my father’s history. I had to be sure.”

“And are you? Sure?”

Christian nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. That’s why I’m coming home. I remember everything about the night, but I’ve had to wait because of Lily. Her parents’ tragic deaths were unforeseen. Her care is my lifelong responsibility, to repay her late father’s kindness.”

“Very noble of you, I’m sure. What I’d like to know is who’d want to destroy you. If it was your father’s reputation being destroyed, there would be hundreds of suspects, but you? Do you even have any enemies?”

Christian’s chair suddenly became unbearably uncomfortable. “It has me completely baffled. I’ve been thinking of nothing else for months; my head hurts with the agony of it. But I don’t even have one name for the list.”

“Aren’t we the saint?” Sebastian drawled.

Christian shook his head. “Chance would be a fine thing. I was off fighting against the French for the last two years. I didn’t have the time or inclination to offend anyone.”

“It couldn’t be a woman scorned, could it?” Sebastian asked casually. “I’ve had a few run-ins with the odd vicious ex-lover. You haven’t broken anyone’s heart of late?”

Shame rather than alcohol burned at the back of Christian’s throat. How could he admit that the only women he slept with now were those he paid for?

“No. On the Continent, during the war, I had no relationships where the woman would have been expecting more. Before Waterloo, I’d just set Eloisa up in London. She kept me pretty busy—too busy to dally with any other lady. Thetonknew marriage was the furthest thing from my mind.” Eloisa Foley was London’s most sought-after courtesan, and Christian had taken immense pride in the fact that she’d agreed to become his mistress—his exclusively. But after Waterloo, she couldn’t leave his protection quickly enough.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sorry, I don’t have any more to tell you. You’ll have to wait until you speak with Grayson upon your return. Hopefully by then he’ll have better news.”

Christian slammed his tumbler on the table. “I had been hoping you’d tell me Grayson had already sorted out the situation and I could sail home and reside quietly in Dorset, at Henslowe Court. Now I’m going to have to go to London and ascertain the truth. Why would Harriet lie? There is more to this than meets the eye.”

“At least you can fix your situation. I fear I’ll be paying for mine all my life.” The guilt in Sebastian’s voice slammed itself forcefully into him from across the table.

Christian could read it in his friend’s eyes: Sebastian was in deep trouble. “What has happened?”

“I too left England in rather a hurry.”

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