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"And I need to know about that night, because I think you were falling in love too."
"No."
"If I'd realized, if I hadn't been so soused, you would have ruined all your grand plans by coming to my bed. I would've realized you were a virgin. And yet you came. Why?"
"Please go away. Go away, go away. My head hurts and I don't want you here."
His weight shifted and she thought he would leave, but he only pressed a kiss to her hair. "Better?"
"No. I won't be better until you're gone."
"You are not disgusted by me. You don't hate me. You may even be in love with me as I am with you. I love you, Emma. I want to marry you, have children, build a life. Will you—"
"No!" she cried out, and fought the tight cocoon of the covers. She pushed away from him and twisted around, flinging her fists at him in a blind rage. "No, no, no! I will not have you, do you hear me? You disgust me. You and the way you make me feel. And children. They are worthless and weak and, and . . ."
"You're lying again. You had a little brother. You must have loved him. Didn't you—"
"Stop!" Her throat ached with her cries. "Stop! Do not speak of him." She gulped in air, but it did nothing to stop the wild sobs that burst from her throat. He tried to reach for her and she struck out, slapping him away. "You have no idea. None!"
"Tell me."
"Of course I loved him. I loved him and he died, just like everyone else. My mother. My father. My uncle. Matthew. And all of it my fault. My fault."
"Emma," his voice was a soothing lull. He didn't understand. "You didn't cause those deaths."
"You have no idea. My mother, she was ill after I was born. She should never have had another child. We killed her, Will and I. And my uncle . . . If I'd left Matthew alone, if I'd told him I couldn't meet him that night. . . I was bored, you see. Flirting with him was my only excitement. I didn't care if he loved me. I didn't care that I would drive him mad, push him to kill my uncle and himself."
"That man hunted you like an animal. He set fire to both your homes!"
"Because of me. There is something inside me. Something wicked that pushed him to madness. I am terrible and sinful just like my father."
"You are nothing like your father. You are a sensitive woman with healthy passions."
"And Will. . ." Emma sat slowly back on her haunches and pulled the linens tight around her. She stared into the hearth, at the jumping flames that looked like life, but brought pain and death. "My father was drunk. He was drunk and laughing in that way he has after a long night of drinking and wenching. He wanted to take Will for a ride in a phaeton he'd won in some game the night before.
"I told him no. I did. But Will was so excited. My father never paid attention to us. He began whining that he wanted to go, and my father told me to shut my mouth or I'd discover the taste of a real whip. And I was scared. I'd seen women whipped in my home before, and I was scared, so I backed away and watched him lift Will up into that carriage and I knew. I knew he was drunk and reckless. I knew. I saw it in my head in that moment, the horses, the road, the crash. And I did nothing."
"You were just a girl. He was your father."
She began to cry. Soft, high sounds leaked from her throat as her tears fell against the sheets. Hart reached for her and she let him, hating her weakness and overwhelmed by need.
"He was so small, just a baby. And when they told me, I didn't believe them. I couldn't. I told the nurse that she was a stupid cow and I ran, ran all the way up to the attic to hide. I must've stayed for hours. By the time I came down it was dark. And. . . and they were all gone. All of them. My father hadn't paid most of them for months. They took silver and rugs and crystal. It was cold and pitch-black."
"You must have been terrified."
"I just. . . I didn't know what to do."
"Of course not." He'd slipped beneath the quilts and held her tight to his body. His hands stroked her naked back, a touch that took nothing and had naught to do with sex. She wanted to climb into him in that moment. Disappear into his warmth and strength. But she couldn't disappear, no matter how much she wanted.
"I found a candle on the floor, just laying there. I lit it and walked around, looking for someone, sure that my brother was in his bed or in the schoolroom. I remember the wax dripping on my hand, but I didn't dare put it down. And then I found him."
His breath shuddered from his chest. She realized her ear was pressed just above his heart and his blood beat so strong and sure.
"They'd been laid out on the dining room table. Their . . . the servants laid them out, but that was all. They knew I was there, knew I would find them. I don't know why . . . They didn't clean them up or even wipe the blood away."
"I'm so sorry."
"And my brother . . . my little baby. He never had a mother. I took care of him and loved him. I picked him up when he fell, made it better. And he was crushed beneath the carriage when it turned, caught under the wheel. In pain."
