‘Do you think I trust you now?’ she scoffed. She looked at him, then stepped away. She was pacing off her fury, moving back and forth in the narrow foyer as she spoke. ‘I have seen what it takes to survive,’ she said. ‘You think it is easy for a girl to spread her legs for coin?’
‘Of course not!’
She glared at him. ‘That is the easiest part of it. Five minutes and it is done. But the beatings, the disease, the pregnancies, bringing another reviled child into the world.’ Fury burned in her eyes. ‘Do you know the terror of that? Of starvation? Of fighting with rats for food?’
He shook his head. He could not comprehend the way she was raised, and it made him sick to think of it.
‘You risked everything when you told our secret. If he had reviled us, if he had cast us aside, where would we go? What would we do?’
He swallowed, feeling the magnitude of what he had done. In his desperation, he had risked her life as surely as if he’d shot her with a pistol. That it had turned out well was merely luck and a measure of Lord Wenshire’s goodness. He could have easily tossed them aside. And then what would she and Grace have done?
At the time, he’d imagined that they’d turn to him for salvation. Even then, he wanted to stand by them. But his rash words had risked everything, and he could not be more ashamed.
He wanted to say something. He wanted to express the depth of his shame. But what words could he offer that would mitigate what he had done?
‘I am beyond sorry,’ he said miserably. ‘I—’
‘How can I forgive you after what you did?’ she asked. ‘How can I look at you without thinking of what could have happened?’
Obviously, she could not. Indeed, he doubted he could look himself in the mirror and not think the same things.
‘I do not ask for forgiveness,’ he finally said. ‘I see that is impossible. But how can I make this better for you? What can I do to make you feel safe? Your father loves you. Your sister will be a duchess. You need not fear—’
‘And yet I keep food secreted away in my bedroom. I have items in a satchel that I can sell.’ She stepped up to him. ‘I lived in fear all my life. I was finally feeling secure here and with one sentence, you ripped all that away!’
‘Lu-Jing!’ he cried, daring to touch her hand. She whipped it away from him, but he stood there nonetheless with his hand outstretched. ‘Do not let me—or anyone—tear away your peace! You are not alone. Declan will see to it if no one else.’ He dropped to his knees before her. He wasn’t even sure why except that he had no right to stand tall before her. ‘I was ten thousand times a fool, but you are safe.’
She looked at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. ‘I trusted you,’ she whispered. ‘I loved you.’
She could not have hit him harder if she’d stabbed him. It was even worse because he knew he deserved the wounds. ‘I will go,’ he finally whispered. ‘You need never think of me again.’
Then he stood without looking at her. He grabbed his hat, and he left. He heard the door shut behind him and knew that whatever his future held, it would not include her. It could not.
That knowledge destroyed him.
The reason was obvious. It wasn’t even a surprise to him. And yet, the truth of it echoed in his mind over and over as he walked the streets of London.
He was in love.
He loved Lucy.
Lucy might very well be his one true love.
And if he were a baker or a sailor or the lowest bootblack, nothing would stop him from pursuing her. But he would be an earl someday, and some things were expected of his title. Chief among those requirements was to support the estate and the people who lived upon it. Not just his family, but the tenants, the village and of course, his blighted parents.
He could not stop thinking about what she’d said or that he could not convince her that she was safe. She had people who cared for her now. People who loved her, including him. And even if he could never speak of it to her, could never show her how much she was valued, the truth of it was all around her.
She was loved.
And he…
He…
He wanted to drown himself in self-pity. He was alone. No one cared for him. No one protected him.
Except that wasn’t true, was it? Just like her, he had friends. A great many of them. And the protection of his title, if nothing else.
In fact, many of them would be all too willing to help him ease the pain of a lost love. They thought he mourned Grace. He did not need to correct them.
So he sought them out. What else could he do? And they brought him in, plied him with drink and let him grieve however he willed. Since he refused to gamble, they gathered in other haunts, their own bachelor accommodations, and even Carlton House with the Prince Regent.
Yes, he got royally drunk with Prinny himself. And when he got sick of talking about lost loves and incompetent fathers, he turned the conversation to commerce. It wasn’t a polite thing to discuss money like this. But they were all drunk, and men liked to talk about making money.
So he did. He told them all what he had learned aboardThe Integrity. He said he knew he could find more markets for English goods. He could find things other than tea to bring back from the Orient. He could do these things, he said, if only he had a ship, investors in his cargo and a roof to cover his sisters’ heads.
By morning, he had all three. Or at least the coin to see it done.
This time, he swore as he cleaned himself up, he wouldn’t fail. His only wish was to see Lucy one last time before he left.
One month later, he got his wish, though not at all in the way he intended.