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She bent and put her hands to his thighs, fixing him with a determined stare. “You said you killed him.”
“Bloody hell,” he said aloud, all politeness be damned.
Apparently, he had fully opened his wounds and exposed himself to her last night. Of all the people to confess such a thing to.
Straightening, Chastity folded her arms. “Did you really kill your father?”
“No.” He blew out a breath. “Well, yes. But no.”
“What does that mean?”
“Can I not just have that water?” He offered up what he hoped was a contrite expression. “Please?”
“Not until you tell me if I am working for a murderer.”
“You forced me to take you on if you recall.”
“Valentine.”
“Very well.”
Let her have the whole sordid story. At least then she would understand why the fiery connection of their kiss had been a complete mistake. With any luck, he’d frighten her off for good. It might put his finding answers to Julian’s death a little behind, but he could make servants talk eventually surely? After all, he was their employer. They should have no secrets from him.
He grimaced. Doubtful indeed. He did not have the knack for people that Chastity appeared to have.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Will you sit? My head hurts staring up at you.”
Chastity eased onto the bed next to him, making the mattress sink a little. She kept an appropriate space between them. Well, appropriate if one did not consider they were alone and he was in a state of undress.
He stared at the faint lines of the floorboards. “My father killed himself on this day twenty-one years ago,” he said simply.
“Oh.”
“Precisely. So now you see why I decided to get myself in such a state. It is a ritual of sorts.” He snorted.
“So why did you say you killed him?”
Did the damned woman have to be so inquisitive? He laced his fingers together and pressed his fingers hard into the back of his hands. It might have been so long ago, when he had been a mere boy at Cambridge, but it felt fresh still.
“I left him the night he killed himself. I knew something was strange about his manner and I offered to stay but he sent me away.” He swallowed hard when his throat started to tighten. “I should have stayed.”
Several beats of silence passed, so quiet that he heard her gentle breaths.
She put a hand to his clasped ones. “How could you have known?”
“I should have known. There was...gossip about him. It ruined his reputation and he feared—well, we all did—that he might end up arrested and put on trial.”
“Gossip? Was he philandering?”
“In a way.” He fixed her with a look.
“But why should he end up arrested? Goodness knows there are many men of rank who are not exactly saints, but their wealth ensures their safety from the consequences of their actions.”
“Not when one is thought to be—” Valentine paused.
Was he really going to confess such a thing to her? Those of Valentine’s age and above knew of his father’s death under shameful circumstances as did the older members of the staff but Chastity had been a young girl at the time and saved from hearing anything untoward. He could keep things that way.
