Page 106 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

“Did she turn away?”

“That is not the point.”

“It may be part of the point.”

“No. It is the excuse a selfish man reaches for when he wants permission to remain selfish.”

Jasper took a slow breath. “Hector⁠—”

“I knew what she had asked of me. I knew why it mattered. I knew the terms on which she had allowed herself to trust me. And I broke them because I wanted to know what it would be like.”

“That is a merciless way to put it.”

“It is an accurate one.”

“Is it?” Jasper asked. “Or is it the version that lets you punish yourself most efficiently?”

Hector gave a short, humorless laugh. “You believe there is another?”

“I believe you rarely allow yourself a human motive when a monstrous one will do, and it is human to kiss your wife.”

Hector sighed. He felt as though the conversation was going nowhere.

“She trusted me,” he said. “Do you understand that? Not as others do. Not because of my title, convenience, or need. She trusted me because I told her she could. I told her she would be safe.”

“Was she unsafe?”

Hector closed his eyes. It made little difference. “With me? In that moment? Yes.”

“Did you frighten her?”

“No.” The answer came too quickly, then wounded him by its certainty. “I do not think so.”

“Did she ask you to stop?”

“No.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

Hector’s mouth tightened, but memory answered before pride could. Poppy had not been passive. She had leaned into him, lightly, as if astonished by herself. Her hands had lifted, then faltered. She had been warm and alive and completely there.

“That does not absolve me,” he said.

“I did not say it did.”

“It changes nothing.”

“It changes everything, Hector.”

Hector struck the cane once against the floor, not loudly, but with enough force to mark the break in his composure.

“Do you know what I did afterward? I left her in uncertainty. I gave her a kiss and nothing to stand on. No promise I could keep. No future I could offer without risking her happiness. I took the comfort of that moment and gave her the burden of its meaning.”

Jasper’s voice softened. “And what meaning do you think she gave it?”

“The one any woman with a heart might.” Hector’s throat worked. “That I had chosen closeness. That I might stop holding myself apart. That she might not have to live always at the edge of me.”

“And is that impossible?”