Page 76 of When the Scoundrel Sins

Bartleby glanced at Lady Ainsley, who hesitated, then nodded her permission for him to continue. He cleared his throat and explained, “Your inheritance of Glenarvon would have equaled their shares. Lord Ainsley made certain of it.” He paused and nervously pushed his spectacles into place on his nose. “He wanted all of his daughters to be taken care of.”

She nodded, noting from the corner of her eye that Quinn had pushed himself from his chair and moved to stand behind her at the settee. “Lord Ainsley was a good man. Of course, he—”

“Including you.”

She caught her breath, stunned. Quinn’s hand went gently to her shoulder as the soft words registered inside her. No, that couldn’t be. What he was implying…impossible.

But when she looked up at Quinn and saw his sober face, she knew—

“My father was Marcus Greene,” she breathed, so softly that her own ears couldn’t hear it. Her heart leapt agonizingly, each thumping beat coming so hard that she thought it might burst free from her chest. Numbly, she reached up to cover Quinn’s hand with her own, seeking an anchor in him to keep from falling away. “My father wasn’t…my father?”

Lady Ainsley sat beside her on the settee and took Belle’s hands securely in hers. The look of sadness and grief on the viscountess’s face ripped through her, stealing her breath away and instantly forming hot tears at her lashes. When she felt the blood drain from her face and all of her began to shudder, Lady Ainsley placed her hand against Belle’s cheek. “Charles North, Lord Ainsley, was your real father, Annabelle.”

Sudden grief tore through her so fiercely that even in her stunned shock the pain was blinding. The world tilted beneath her. Only Quinn’s hand on her shoulder gave her anything solid to cling to, his strong fingers tightening to let her know he was there.

“We never meant to hurt you by keeping this from you,” Lady Ainsley whispered softly, her hand soothingly stroking Belle’s cheek and hair while the other held tight to her hand. “But it cannot be kept any longer. You need to know now.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she gave a jerking nod.

She felt Quinn’s hand slide away.No! Stay with me!But she couldn’t speak through the terrible anguish shredding her from the inside out. Then she heard Lady Ainsley’s voice through the painful fog suffocating her—

“…lost his first wife, Ainsley was devastated. He could barely leave his bed and wouldn’t eat. Your mother was his housekeeper at the London house, and she helped him through his grief. They became very close.” The viscountess’s voice quavered, and Belle was only dimly aware through her own pain of how difficult this must be for her. “Ainsley loved your mother, very much, but he was a viscount with young children to care for and could never marry a housekeeper.”

Another jerking nod, and her eyes squeezed tighter.

“Then one day, she left. No warning, no explanation…Ainsley looked for her, but she was gone. Yet he never gave up, and nearly a decade later, he found her. That was when he learned he had a daughter in you.” She took Belle’s face between her trembling hands. “Your mother had left because she’d discovered that she was with child, and she married Marcus Greene so that you would not be illegitimate. When Ainsley found you and your mother, you were eight. You thought Marcus Greene was your father, and your mother didn’t want you to know the truth.”

Belle gave a soft sob, unable to hold back a tear as it slipped down her cheek.

“Don’t blame her, darling.” Soft hands soothed at her temples and cheeks, gently brushing away the stray tears. “She wanted only to protect you, to keep you safe. But she allowed Ainsley to meet you, remember?”

“My birthday,” she breathed out past trembling lips.

“He gave you a new coat and shoes, and a pretty doll, just like the ones he gave his other daughters when they were little.” She paused, her own voice trembling with emotion. “It broke his heart to leave you behind.”

Belle was certain it did. Butdear God! Hearing the truth now stirred so much pain inside her that it hurt to take each breath.

“When Marcus Greene was arrested, Ainsley made certain that you and your mother had a safe place to live, food, clothes—everything you needed.” The viscountess drew a deep breath. “Then your mother fell ill.”

“And I came here,” she whispered. She opened her eyes, and Lady Ainsley’s concerned face blurred beneath her tears.

“He promised your mother on her deathbed that he would treat you as well as his other daughters, that he would always care for you.” Her eyes glistened. “He was at her side when she passed. The last words your mother heard were of how much he loved her.”

Unable to choke down the flow of tears any longer, Belle collapsed into Lady Ainsley’s arms. The viscountess held her tenderly and cooed soothingly to her as she rocked her in her arms.

Belle had no idea how long she lay there in Lady Ainsley’s lap while she cried, but long enough that when she finally sat up and wiped away her last tears, Quinn had moved away to stand in front of the window, staring blankly outside at the night, his back toward them and his hand rubbing at his nape.

“Why?” Belle whispered, her hands tightly clutching the viscountess’s. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

“Life was hard enough for you as it was, having lost your mother to fever and the man you thought was your father to prison. Ainsley knew what happened to illegitimate children born to members of society when their father’s true identity was made known, and he didn’t want you to be hurt any more than you already were. He thought it was for the best to keep it secret and to give you the best life we could despite that.” She squeezed Belle’s hands. “We both did.”

All those years…she’d never once suspected that Lord Ainsley was anything more to her than the kind and generous man who had taken her in as a favor to her mother. But he’d loved her, Belle hadalwaysknown that. As much as any father could have.

“We treated you exactly as we did his other daughters, and he made certain you had everything you should, right down to a good education and a London debut.” Lady Ainsley smiled sadly. “He was always so proud of you, most of all whenever he found you in the library, lost in a book. You were his little bluestocking, and he constantly bragged about how smart you were, what new language you’d learned, what play or novel you’d forced poor Ferguson to act out with you in the gardens. He couldn’t have loved you more if you were his legitimate daughter.”

Belle nodded and lowered her face as she wiped at her eyes. And she’d loved him. The grief filling her heart now was not for Lord Ainsley but for herself, for never having the chance to know him as a father.

“He wanted to protect you, and so we agreed never to tell you. What good would it have brought?” She sadly shook her head. “But now, with circumstances as they are…”