She was shaking her head, refusing to hear his words. “That’s not true. You shot the highwayman.” Her eyes pleaded with him to deny the truth, as tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. She had lived the lie for too long, protecting a dead man, who deserved to rot in hell for eternity.
“I shot Bredlebane while he was on top of you,” he confessed. His heart skipped several beats as she continued to shake her head in denial. Knowing that no matter what she accepted, she could end up hating him for murdering her husband.
“Then I killed his driver who had been holding your wrists down. He’d pulled out a pistol and I had no problem killing him on the spot. I’m just sorry I didn’t arrive sooner.”
“He was my husband…” she whispered
“He was a scoundrel who did not deserve you.”
“He thought I’d lied to him.”
“That’s not an excuse for him to beat you. It’s no excuse for what he did to you.”
Silently, she cried the tears she hadn’t shed when she’d been recovering from the heinous attack. “I never thanked you,” she said through a hiccup.
“Thank me for what? Failing you when I knew him to be a scoundrel?” He wiped her tears with his wet hand.
She closed her eyes as if to block out what she was going to say. “He was going to kill me and then demand my dowery fromRoss. He said he deserved the dowery for the pain he’d suffered on the trip home from Gretna Green.” She paused, then looked at him and admitted, “But, now it’s me who cannot heal. Me who carries the shame.”
She continued to cry quietly before she confessed. “I can’t have children.”
“I know.”
“My son. He’s not my son.”
He nodded, too afraid his voice would crack if he tried to speak.
“I was traveling to London to get the girls. Forrester had written to me about them and I felt their plight so deeply,” she took a large shuddering breath. “On our journey, my driver stopped at the same inn where William and I had stayed on our way to Gretna Green. William was such a gentleman that night.” Then her face crumbled in pain. “He acquired two separate rooms, but what I didn’t know was that he ravished the inn keeper’s daughter the very night I dreamt of him becoming my husband.”
“Are you certain your son is Bredlebane’s?” It wasn’t that he doubted the man was guilty, but the child wouldn’t be the first bastard someone claimed belonged to a gentleman.
“Yes. She was just sixteen and innocent. She did not consent. He raped a girl younger than Robbi.” She admitted. “The girl and her parents didn’t want Dorian. The girl couldn’t look at him or hold him or care for him. He has William’s eyes.”
He’d heard many a lady extolling the virtue of Bredlebane’s blue eyes. It was as if they believed the color of a man’s irises determined the goodness of his heart. If that were the case, his own soul was black as the deepest loch in Scotland.
“Are you going to raise him as your own?” he asked.
“He was born of my sin, and William’s. I will not let Dorian suffer for our actions.”
“You committed no sin.”
“But don’t you see? I did. I brought evil to that young girl’s doorstep.”
He shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. “That was no sin of yours. Bredlebane committed the heinous act. Don’t accept his sins as your own.”
She nodded slowly in acquiescence, but he knew she didn’t believe it. Not yet.
“It’s a crime to pass a bastard off as a legitimate heir.” He knew all too well the dangers he faced with his own lie about Sébastien. He was very aware of what he was doing. But he needed to warn her.
“The real crime was what William did to that girl, yet the ton would never look down upon Bredlebane. I am merely attempting to atone for his crime.”
“You bestowed an allowance on the girl, didn't you?” He asked.
“I gave her a dowry of sorts. Her parents had arranged for a marriage to a good young farmer who was caring and had loved the girl for some time. He will take good care of her.”
“Was she injured as you were?”
“Not as badly, no.”
