Page 50 of A Kiss Of Lies

“I barely remember her,” he whispered bleakly. “I was six years old when she died. I can scarcely recall what she looked like, but I do remember her perfume—lavender—and the way she’d cuddle me close if I was ill or hurt. She lit up the nursery when she came to visit. All the staff loved her. She was gentle, quiet, and compassionate—all the things my father wasn’t.”

Sarah was quiet for a moment. Even though Sebastian had told her, she knew Christian had to say it, to speak of it. “How did she die?” Outwardly she sat very still, but inwardly she cried for the young boy he’d been.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “At the hands of my father,” he said, anguish clear in every note.

“An accident?”

She flinched at the pain underlying his whisper, and she let him feel for her hand and grip it tightly. “I’ve never told anyone apart from Grayson and Sebastian. I was too young at the time to understand, but Roberts, my father’s butler, told me years later. Father beat her and then pushed her down the stairs at Henslowe Court.” Christian just looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. “When I reached manhood, I couldn’t confront him because of what he might do to Roberts. But Father knew I knew. He could not look me in the eye, and he began to drink even more, which made it worse for everyone. So, finally, I left. I left home and joined the cavalry. Fighting to help defeat Boney helped ease the anger and helplessness burning inside me.”

She pressed a chaste kiss on his lips and he pulled her onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and regarded him matter-of-factly. “You are nothing like your father. You take after your mother in more than looks. You’re gentle, kind, compassionate . . .”

“God, I hope so, because there’s more. He did terrible things. I pray every day that I don’t have his bad blood coursing through my veins.”

“What could be worse than killing your mother?” she asked in shocked surprise.

“I have at least one half sister that I know of.”

“Know of?” She knew whatever he was about to say was terrible, for his muscles tightened beneath her fingers.

“When I was ten years old, I used to play hide-and-seek with the governess. During one of the games I’d hidden in the linen cupboard, unbeknown to my father. He dragged a maid inside and raped her. He discharged her from service when she was big with his child. She threw herself off a bridge soon after the child was born.”

Sarah stilled in his arms, nausea churning in her stomach. His father was a rapist. Her mind rebelled at the thought of Christian being this man’s son, but they were very different. She admired how honorable he was, considering his upbringing. He’d been born to privilege and power but did not abuse it. He wore his status with pride and humility, knowing that being wealthy and a peer did not necessarily make a person a good man.

“Once my father died, I tracked down my half sister and offered to stand by her and support her, but she’d have none of me. Not that I blamed her. I send her money. I will provide her with a considerable dowry should she marry, and we write to each other occasionally. I don’t know how many others are out there. Their fate constantly haunts me.”

“It’s admirable that you want to right so many wrongs, but you are not responsible for your father’s mistakes.”

Christian stroked a hand down her arm. “That’s easy for you to say. I should have done more.”

“As a woman, I know how powerless women can be made to feel.”

He asked, “Your marriage?”

She nodded. “On my husband’s tobacco plantation, I tried to help the slaves. He mistreated them terribly. The first few weeks I was constantly ill, fearful that I’d go mad living with the unfairness of their lives and the parallel that could be found to mine. I was owned, as they were.” Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Then Pippa, one of the household slaves, told me I shouldn’t feel guilty about circumstances I could not change. The fact I tried was enough.” She pressed her palms to her eyes, willing the tears not to fall, and quietly said, “The fact I couldn’t change my situation, or theirs, only made it worse. The powerlessness ate at me. I withered away as if struck by a cankerous disease.”

“Let’s hope your husband is getting what he deserves where he has gone.”

She started. “I beg your pardon?”

He frowned. “He died. If you believe in a heaven, then there must be a hell.”

She shivered in the humid air. “Is it awful of me to hope he’s suffering?”

He kissed the top of her head and murmured against her hair, “No. I’m glad we’ve talked. I’m hoping my behavior this evening won’t make you leave my employ. Lily—Lily and I—will be very disappointed if I have driven you away.”

She softened her tone, to cushion the blow of what she was about to say. “You have no right to be jealous of me. I do not belong to you. I thought that I was quite clear on that point.”

“I know I have no claim on you. I know your freedom is very important to you. I shall try to keep my feelings of inadequacy under control and rein in my jealous tendencies.”

This time she allowed herself to smile. “You have no reason to feel inadequate. You are the only man I have willingly shared myself with, ever. I did not come to that decision lightly.”

Sarah couldn’t believe how blind she’d been. Here was an honorable man. A man who seemed as lost in this world as she was. A man who, like her, was looking for something—someone—to fulfill his life. She knew she could never be that someone for him, an earl. But she looked forward to the voyage to England and sharing a little of herself with him. She looked forward, with more desire than she thought possible, to the prospect of learning all about passion from this man.

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to her fingers. “I’m honored, truly. I shall endeavor to earn back your trust and respect, for I treasure the gift you bestowed on me last night. Please say you’ll give me a chance to know everything about you and, at the same time, share everything about myself with you.” She saw his throat work hard to swallow. “Will you give me—our relationship—another chance?” he said, hurrying his words. “We can take it slowly, and leave off the physical aspect until we are comfortable with each other.”

“What if I don’t wish to wait?” she teased.

His face lit with a radiant smile. It was a smile that tugged at her heart and sent her pulse racing. He stood and walked to the bed, depositing her gently on the covers. “I am at your command. You may set the pace, and I shall eagerly follow.”

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