“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth, moving her way to the right so she could kiss the disfigured skin there. “Every part of you, scars and all. Every part, Hugh. I would not have you change anything about yourself.”
He smiled, one side of his mouth tilting higher than the other, as was his wont. She loved every lopsided angle of it. “Then even if it were in my power to change, I would change nothing.” He held her closer. “I cannot imagine my life without you,” he murmured.
“Then don’t.”
“I never did, even when I was angry—unjustly so. I’m sorry, Chris. I should have been there with you facing your father. He is a vile, heartless man, and you should not have endured his cruelty alone.” Hugh’s smile twisted into a grimace. “I’m afraid when I saw him, I rather lost my temper.”
Christiana shifted closer, safe in the cocoon of his arms. The ache in her chest had eased, the pain almost gone. “You did? How wonderful.”
“I may have thrown a few things and threatened him.”
“Better and better.”
“I doubt he will apologize to you for all that, but I made it plain to him that you could be anyone’s daughter, and I will still want you for my wife. In fact,” he added, his tone contemplative, “I think I would rather you were not his.”
“Though you asked Mrs. Dove-Lyon for a lord’s daughter?”
“In the eyes of theton, you are. What care I for the details? A stableboy may well have been a better man than your father could ever be.”
“Without my mother around to tell us, I think it will be difficult to know for certain.”
“Some mysteries in life are destined to be unsolved. But I need you to know how little it matters. I was a fool, Chris, and I thought you saw me as a monster. But you accept me as a man. And I accept you as my wife and a duchess, no matter whose blood runs through your veins.” His eyes softened, so dark and deep, they melted every part of her. “And if we ever have children, I hope they inherit your eyes and heart and beautiful, intelligent mind.”
He hadn’t yet said he loved her, but she knew it to be true all the same.
“Kiss me again,” she said. “And this time, don’t stop.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Hugh had notmade the conscious decision to discard his mask permanently. But when he entered the carriage with Amelia and Christiana, he found he had no desire to wear it. Even when they stopped, he strode into posting houses with his face bare. And yes, some people did cringe away from him, but there was no screaming or running away.
All the while, Christiana had her hand in the crook of his arm, a comforting presence.
“Have you noticed,” Amelia said in an offhand way to Christiana, “no one is actually scared of him?”
Hugh glanced at her, but she ignored him determinedly. After Christiana had scolded her for traveling alone, she had been a little chastened, but that period of glorious quiet had now come to an end. All day, she and Christiana had been whispering; this was, evidently, the product of their machinations.
“Rather less impactful than I had supposed,” Christiana said.
“Do you want to maintain your reputation?” Amelia asked, turning to him. “The one where people suspect you of drinking children’s blood to maintain your everlasting youth?”
“At least you didn’t saybeauty,” he said dryly. “Then it would have been unrealistic.”
Amelia nodded. “In that case, I have a proposition. Please sayyes.”
“That depends entirely on the proposition in question.”
“Attend my debut in London,” Amelia said. “I don’t think you can justify staying home all the time when it’s so obvious that people just aren’t afraid of you.”
“I would rather like the world to get to know you,” Christiana said, a trace of apology in her voice. “And I think you would like that too, deep down. We can start small and see how you feel. Mrs. Barnaby’s dinner was a success—we can host a harvest ball and invite the local families to join. It’s time the ballroom was put to use.”
“And we can dance.” Amelia’s eyes shone. “Please say you’ll invite some eligible gentlemen.”
He cut down on his instinct to tell her she would be dancing with no one under his watch. Because, of course, she was a woman, and shortly about to enter her first Season in London. Better she get a taste of what to expect; her life had been so sheltered so far, largely because of him.
He had always assumed that the fire had been the end of his life—or at least of a life worth living. His pain had been a constant companion, and secluding himself from the world—shielding himself from its condemnation—had been a natural response to his situation.
But perhaps, with Christiana by his side, he could consider a different path.