Page 74 of Cruel Hearts

“Did Elizabeth tell you anything about him?”

Maxwell’s face twisted into one of those expressions people made when trying to calculate hard sums. “She and her mother always bad-mouthed Neapolitan, but they still invited him every year for Christmas, Easter, and a bunch of other family holidays.” He tilted his head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

“I think he’s my father.”

His entire body stilled, and his gray eyes roved over my features as though looking at me anew. My stomach tightened. What if he saw something of Father Neapolitan in my features and decided I looked too much like that scumbag? I sucked in a deep breath, reminding myself that I looked just like Mother had when she was young.

“Did your mother tell you this?” he asked in an artificially neutral voice.

“Yes.”

“We all thought he was a virgin.” Maxwell pulled out his smartphone. “But it makes sense that the poor woman would run far away to avoid a shotgun marriage.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Do you think Mr. Burgh would—”

“That religious crowd values chastity over everything else,” Maxwell tapped on the screen. “Compare the number of times people have gotten suspended for lewd conduct versus violence.”

He was right. I’d supposedly broken Elizabeth’s nose, but they had just locked me in a room and gotten Lady Liddell to have a ‘chat’. “What are you doing?”

“Booking us on the sleeper train to Glasgow. Shall I reserve two singles?”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Maxwell pressed a kiss on my temple. “A double it is.”

Chapter 27

I was too wrapped up in recent revelations to take in my surroundings as we exited the Uber at Euston station. Its vast concourse faded into a blur, and the announcements on the loudspeaker only registered in the periphery of my awareness.

Without Maxwell’s strong arm around my back, I would never have made it onto the train. I cycled from shock to horror then back to a numb stupor. I wanted to shove every Liddell and those who supported them off the tower and watch then shatter.

“Do you need a drink?” Maxwell sat me on a soft surface.

I blinked, bringing everything back into focus. We were in what looked like a tiny hotel room with mahogany-paneled walls and sculpted glass lamps with brass stands. The double bed beneath me stretched from one wall to the other, and on the right was a window that looked out onto the platform.

“This is the sleeper?” I whispered.

Maxwell smiled down at me, compassion shining in his eyes. “Tea, cola, whiskey?”

“What?”

He knelt at my feet and rested his large hands on my knees. “When you’re ready to tell me the rest of what’s bothering you, I’ll be there. But you haven’t eaten or had anything to drink since the flight. What can I get you from the buffet?”

I hooked my fingers under his lapels. “Take off your clothes.”

His face went slack. “Lilah, did you—”

“Get naked. I want to see what I’ve been missing.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and he licked his bottom lip. I narrowed my eyes. The Maxwell I knew and lusted after would grin and give me a show that would blast away all my troubles. Mother, Billy Hancock, Father Neapolitan, and the wretched Liddells would become a distant memory.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He frowned. “Max. Why?”

I let go of his lapels with a shove. “Because you’re acting like you’ve never stripped in front of me, let alone a girl.”

“It’s not that.” His gaze flicked down to my knees and back up to my face. “