“And now you know. And you’re looking at me differently already.”
She was fully aware that she was. She could feel it in the tension of her shoulders, the angle of her chin, the careful distance she was maintaining. He was not Mr. Langford anymore, not the man she had come to know through evening conversations and shared concerns about the children. He wasthe Duke of Trevane, a figure from gossip sheets and society whispers, a man whose reputation preceded him like a warning.
“I have built a world here,” she said. Her voice was quieter now, some of the sharp edges worn down by the complexity of what she was feeling.
“I have built trust with those children. They believe that what I tell them is true. They believe that the adults in their lives are honest with them, even when honesty is difficult.”
“They don’t know about the title.”
“Of course they don’t know about the title. They don’t know their father is one of the most powerful men in England. They don’t know that their illegitimacy is not merely a social inconvenience but a scandal that could destroy them if it became public.” She pressed her hand against her forehead, feeling the headache building behind her eyes.
“They don’t know anything except that their papa cherishes them deeply and comes to visit when he can. And I have been complicit in that deception without even knowing it.”
“You were protecting them.”
“I was being managed. There is a distinction.” She looked at him, really looked, trying to see past the revelation to the man she had been coming to know.
“I need to understand something. The rake, the gambling, the scandals, the women. Is that who you actually are, or is that another performance?”
He was silent. When he spoke, his voice was careful, measured.
“Both, neither.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration she had never seen from him before.
“The rake is a role I built after Celeste passed away. It was a way to distract myself from the grief. A fortress of scandal and charm that kept people from asking questions I couldn’t answer. But the longer you perform something, the more it becomes part of who you are. I don’t know anymore where the performance ends and I begin.”
“That is remarkably honest.”
“You demanded honesty. I’m attempting to provide it.”
She stood in the middle of the study, caught between the door and the man, between anger and something that was not quite forgiveness. The fire crackled in the hearth. The wind continued its restless movement through the garden. The house settled around them with all the weight of secrets revealed.
“I need time to think,” she said finally.
“Take whatever you need.”
“I’m not going to leave them.” She said it fiercely, as though he might doubt it, as though anyone might doubt it.
“Whatever I decide about you, I will not leave those girls.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know. You can’t know. You have no idea what kind of woman I am, because you never bothered to find out. You were too busy managing me, controlling the information I received and ensuring that I could never become a threat.”
“That’s not…” He stopped himself. Took a breath.
“That’s fair. I do deserve that.”
“You deserve considerably more than that.” She turned toward the door, then paused with her hand on the frame.
“The children’s birthday is next week. I assume you knew that.”
“I know.”
“They will expect you to be here. They have been planning celebrations for months. Anna has created an elaborate schedule. Viola has drawn invitations. Thistle has compiled a list of requested presents that includes, among other things, a horse, a castle, and a brother.”
“A brother?”
“She believes siblings come in sets of three and that they are due for an additional one.” Mel’s voice was dry.
