A muscle in Hugh’s jaw twitched. ‘I remember nothing except my mother.’
‘You never travelled there again?’
‘Never. I didn’t want to know if...’
‘If it had changed?’
‘I didn’t want to know if she was still there.’
Alice needed to sit. Her legs weak from the storm, from his story. But she also wanted to hold him, so she stood. How had he endured the jibes of the town, of his father, when all the while he’d worried about his mother?
Before she knew it, she’d crossed the room and grabbed the outside of his arm. He looked down at her hand, his eyes softening from the starkness they’d held. When she went to remove her hand, he clasped it in his own.
Startled, she searched his eyes. There was so much pain there. ‘Was that even a possibility?’
He shook his head and released her hand. She reluctantly let it fall to her side.
‘She was coughing blood at the end. There was someone else in the room—a local healer, I think, who often tended her. But still...’
But still he wondered if he had been abandoned.
‘Weren’t there others in the village who could have taken care of you?’
‘I never believed so. Why else would she have notified my father and asked him to take me in?’
Why, indeed. And if his father had already abandoned him, why beg him to take in his son?
Then a thought occurred. ‘How did she know where your father was?’
‘My father was born and died in Swaffham; it probably wasn’t difficult to find him.’
‘Was your mother...? Did your mother have coin?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m asking this wrong. Do you know how she got you to Swaffham?’
‘I travelled with a messenger from my father.’
From his father. ‘So it’s possible your father paid for your trip? It’s possible he wanted you?’
He raised a brow. ‘Trying to soften it for me? My father made his intentions towards me clear when he abandoned his wife, my mother.’
‘But he agreed—’ Alice started, then stopped and gathered her thoughts. ‘He took you in, Hugh. Even if you believe he didn’t pay for your expenses to travel. He answered your mother. He took you in.’
Hugh’s eyes closed, as if he could not accept what she said. When they opened, they were as clear as she had ever seen them, and completely unreadable. As if he purposely kept what he felt from her.
‘Why are we talking about this?’ His eyes went to the room where William slept.
‘Because after all this time we’re here, together.’
Her heart hammered in her chest. Finally they could talk about the dance, his revealing of his past. The accusations in the garden. There would be no misunderstandings any more. No more questions ofwhat if?
‘For what purpose? I said I would help with the Seal. We’ll find it or not, and either way we’ll leave Swaffham come spring. Me to my home, and you to inform the King on what has happened.’ He looked back at her. ‘We’ll be going our separate ways...as we have before.’
‘No. You kissed me. I know you feel for me.’ She took a step and noticed him bracing himself before she stopped. ‘I know why you turned me away that day. All those years ago. It was because of your father.’
‘He’s dead.’
‘But he’s why you stayed away, isn’t he?’
‘At the time? Yes. Is that what you want to hear? How could I subject you to a father fallen drunk in the mud? To the shame and humiliation of my lineage?’
