Page 32 of The Marquess of Secrets

“We met at my place of employment. I was a nurse at St. Thomas Hospital. John Huntsford was a surgeon. At first, he was all charm and kindness. Fraternization is frowned upon between the staff, so we kept our relationship secret. Soon we were meeting after work in places far from our residences or the hospital. Before I knew it, I’d fallen for him and moved into his flat. Little did I know of his true character. Your turn.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Ah. Where did I leave off?”

“You stated you have a secret life. I believe I can guess what it is.” She gave the marquess a shy but knowing smile.

Harrison chuckled. “Please do.”

“At my lowest point, shivering and starving in an alley, I made my way to a place I heard about: a temporary respite from living on the cobbles. I encountered a man dressed in white, completely covered except for his mesmerizing silver-gray eyes. Doctor Damian. Toiling underground, treating the poor, giving his valuable time and talent. A medical Robin Hood.”

A slight smile curved about his mouth. “I’ve never heard it put quite like that, but I suppose it has a thread of truth.”

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Lydia stated, her voice soft with admiration.

“Yes. I’m a trained physician. I have degrees from Cambridge but am unable to practice due to societal rules. I practice medicine on my own terms and have for many years. In secret.”

Lydia’s heart swelled with approval. When had she ever heard of a member of the peerage giving so much with no recognition?

“I respect what you’re doing. It used to tear my heart to shreds to see people turned away at St. Thomas. People who couldn’t pay but who needed our care the most.”

Harrison nodded. “The very reason I started this secret charity. My good friend, Doctor Samuel Kenward, and the nuns, all do their part. Sacrificing of their time, energy, and perhaps a piece of their souls. Your turn. Little did you know of Huntsford’s character? Will you elaborate?”

It caused her insides to twist to speak of it, but she told him of moving in with John. Lending him money until her small savings were depleted. With a shaky sigh, she continued.

“I found out he’d been spending my money on opium. He introduced it to me one night w-w-when we were having relations.” Lydia flushed; the last word ended in a whisper. “This is hard for me to talk about. What you must think of me.”

Harrison gently clasped her elbow and pushed up the sleeve of the flannel nightgown. The tips of his fingers caressed the scars on her arm. Her heart fluttered rapidly at his warm and caring touch.

“He did more than introduce you. He forced the needle in against your will, tearing your skin. Am I correct?”

Though she tried hard not to react, tears filled her eyes regardless. Lydia nodded, biting her lower lip.

“He said it would enhance the experience.”

Uttering a foul oath under his breath, Harrison lifted her arm and softly kissed the scars.

Oh. Oh, my.

Her insides melted at his compassionate kiss. His mouth was warm, and his touch exhilarating. With tender care, he released her arm and laid it across her waist.

“The man is a monster for maiming you in such a way. What he did was a violation.” Harrison brushed away the couple of tears that had trailed down her flushed cheek.

Yes. That was the harsh truth of it.

An assault. A violation.

It was the reason she made such a hasty departure.

“I do not wish to upset you further tonight. All I ask is this: are you guilty of what the police detective claims? We will discuss the details tomorrow.”

“No, I’m not. I adamantly refused to participate in Huntsford’s twisted plan. It’s part of the reason I ran—”

Harrison laid a finger against her lips. “No more tonight.”

He stared at her with those beautiful eyes, which were filled with emotions she could not guess at. His thumb brushed across her lips, gently stroking, inflaming her body clear to her toes.

Lydia laid her hand on top of his and turned until her mouth met his palm.

She kissed it. Once. Twice. A third time.