Page 81 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“No. I struggled with myself, but when I looked into his eyes, I knew he lied.” His hand tightened on hers. “And yet, what if he truly meant what he said? How could I be certain?”

“You couldn’t.”

“With a dramatic gesture worthy only of a very young man, I slashed my hand and swore upon my life’s blood never to be forced into marriage.” He sputtered on a laugh. “Stupid, non? And then my loving papa threw me into the oubliette.” He turned to her, his eyes dark. “You know what that is, l’oubliette?”

“A dungeon where, judging by the name, one puts a prisoner and then forgets about him.” Horror rose in her gorge. “Your father did that to you? He left you there to die?”

“A charming parent, n’est-ce pas?”

“And I thought my mother was horrid. Oh, poor Philippe.” She put her arms around him and held him tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know whether he would have let me die. He still needed me, for he had no other son. But perhaps his fury overcame all.” He blew out a breath. “He invited many friends the next night. There was much wine and laughter. I heard them even from the oubliette. Perhaps it was to mock me with what my life might have been. En tout cas, my personal servant, Jean-Marc, stole the key to the dungeons and set me free. While my father and his friends caroused, we ran away to Paris, and I became a man of the people.” He shrugged. “For a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“I worked as a groom in the inn owned by Jean-Marc’s cousin, and I was one of those who stormed the Bastille.” He smiled—not a cheerful smile, but a sadly reminiscent one. “Soon I realized that as a son of the aristocracy, I could have more influence. I even tried to advise poor King Louis. He was a good man, but stubborn. If he had heeded my words, he and his family might have escaped in time.”

He shrugged again—each shrug, she realized, a futile attempt to rid himself of old burdens.

“Sophie’s husband, Jean-Esprit, the Comte de Ste-Anne, recognized the danger and took his family to Austria. But he was cruel to Sophie and a jealous fiend, so I stole her and little Charles away and gave her into the care of a lowborn friend of mine. After that, I went to England, for France had become too hot for me. But as soon as I had a place prepared for her, I returned in disguise and fetched her.”

His expression became grim. She wondered what dark memories had surfaced.

“For a while, I became involved in smuggling aristocrats and other unfortunates out of France. That is why, in spite of my revolutionary views, I am accepted amongst the émigrés here in London.” He laughed, but it was a harsh, unpleasant sound. “Some of them, that is. Others were proud and foolish, endangering everyone. I had to threaten to kill some of the women to make them behave.”

By the sound of his voice, she knew that had not been an empty threat.

He grimaced. “They have never forgiven me, but they do not matter to me in the same way as the peasants do.” He lay staring up at the canopy over the bed. “I will never know if I did right.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“You love me and are kind, but what if my father meant what he said? Perhaps, if I had not made a selfish vow to marry only of my own free will, I would have been able to help the peasants and to ameliorate their burdens. Perhaps they would not have arisen so violently in our small corner of France. Perhaps some who died would have survived.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “My father was in Paris when they looted the house, killed my old aunt and her servants, and then burned it to the ground. All his pride ended up in ashes—poor man.”

“Poor man?” she said hotly. “He got what he deserved, and you couldn’t have stopped the violence. Some people are never content with their lot, no matter how much help one offers.”

“My lovely Gloriana.” He turned, his expression rueful. “There is more. I am not an innocent sort of man. I have killed to protect those I care for. I consort with smugglers and other rogues. I was a thief and a highwayman and—”

“A highwayman?”

“From time to time, when I needed money quickly. It is not particularly dangerous if one does it seldom.”

“It sounds dangerous to me. As does climbing up the drainpipe outside my window.”

He laughed. “That is the easy part of burglary.”

“Maybe, but I am frightened that you will be caught trying to get my book.”

He kissed her. "Don’t worry. All will be well.” His smile faded. “But do you begin to understand, ma belle? Nothing excuses my cowardice, but it perhaps explains it.”

For a moment, she was all at sea, and then it dawned on her. “You thought I was trying to force you into marriage? That’s why you refused me and ran?”

He nodded.

“But you had already asked me to marry you!” she said.

“Yes, but we were to marry in the future, not then when I was still poor.”

“Granted, but—”