Page 138 of From Rakes to Riches

“I do,” she said, her voice a soft whisper. “It makes me wish things were different. Our lives…”

She seemed at a loss to finish her sentence so he went ahead. “Our lives were meant to intersect, Lola. I’d only returned from America the day before Bow Street knocked on my door. The Runners allowed me to accompany them because I insisted and would not be deterred. I knew I had to go to Vauxhall. Losing Fremont was a tragedy I never anticipated, but it also brought me to you.”

“I am grateful for that.” She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, stroking over his jaw with tenderness. “It makes my choices in the past that much more meaningful, why I left Ipswich and found my way to London, but it doesn’t change the circumstances now.”

“What circumstances?” he asked. “You’ll have to explain that to me.”

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “You are an earl. I am a Vauxhall performer with a sordid past. Society would never have it. If you carry on with me, it will ruin your reputation, tarnish your heritage and ultimately bring you shame and embarrassment.”

She said the words matter-of-factly but he knew her well enough to hear the tremulous emotion hidden in her voice.

“No.” The one word sounded loud in the room. “I don’t believe it will be as damning as you predict. Society finds a new scandal to bandy about every week, if it even takes that long. I care nothing for gossip rags and idle scorn and have no one to please besides myself andyou, Lola, you please me.”

She didn’t say anything and his heart lurched. The longer she stayed quiet, the faster his pulse raced. When she turned on her side to face him again, he saw tears in her eyes.

“But that’s the problem.” Her brow furrowed and her lips quivered as she drew a stilted breath. “There’s something about me you don’t know that will forever keep us apart.”

He waited, but she didn’t continue. A tear slid free and when she reached up to wipe it away, he caught her fingers, accomplishing the task with the pad of his thumb while keeping her hand in his, keeping them connected.

“You can tell me anything,” he began, wanting her to know the depths of his emotions. He drew her to his chest and held her a minute, her damp cheek pressed against his skin. “I’ll help you every way I can and we’ll solve the problem together because I can’t live another day knowing you carry around such pain.”

She let out a long exhale and glanced up at his face, her own filled with sorrow. “When you visited Ipswich did you try to find out about my life there?”

“No. I knew you would tell me about your past when you were ready,” he answered immediately. “And I respect you too much to deceive you or be dishonest. I haven’t lied to you.”

She bit her lower lip. “I wish you had.”

“Lied to you?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. “Why would you say that?”

She swallowed, her eyes closing for a long blink before she answered. “Because I’ve lied to you, Theodore, since the first day I met you.”

23

Lola watched Theodore’s face register surprise, confusion, and then the most damning emotion,hurt.

“What do you mean you’ve lied to me since the first day?” His voice sounded different and she felt his body tense. “Is this about us or what happened to Fremont?”

“No,” she answered quickly. “I didn’t see anything besides a man in a black greatcoat. I mean, I saw what he did, and I saw your friend on the ground, but I was on the rope. I told you everything about that.”

She realized she was talking too fast and took a deep breath, wanting to explain calmly.

“Go on,” he said, his eyes watching her intensely.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“At the beginning, Lola. If you want me to understand why you’ve lied, you’ll need to tell me everything,” he answered, his voice not at all like the rich, affectionate tone she’d come to love.

“My name is Lola Morgan,” she said, drawing the coverlet closer to her chin. “I took the name York when I came to London.”

He was staring over her shoulder at the flames in the firebox and she wondered what he was thinking. What he would think of her when she finished telling him everything.

“My parents, sister and I lived a comfortable life in a lovely cottage on the grounds of the Duke of Leinster’s country seat in Ipswich. My father was a sought-after horse trainer and His Grace, an avid equestrian. The duke met my father over two decades earlier and their association was one of friendship as much as employment. Or so we all believed at the time we were invited to live on his property where my father was in charge of the extensive stables.

“Mostly, things were fine. Life was enjoyable. But His Grace had a stern hand with the horses and my father and he openly disagreed about discipline versus training. My father wouldn’t tolerate abuse of any kind and His Grace knew that. They occasionally exchanged words and I suspect His Grace kept his darker habits for when no one could witness his cruelty.”

She heard Theodore curse under his breath, but he didn’t say more so she continued.

“One afternoon my father took delivery of a young Hanoverian the duke purchased for an ungodly sum. His Grace wanted the stallion broken immediately. He wanted him saddled so he could show the rare breed to a few noblemen he planned to visit, but my father refused, knowing the horse should become acclimated to its new home first. Father believed livestock needed to gain trust before he initiated training, but the duke objected and they argued openly. That night my father expressed his anger at the dinner table. He was frustrated and my mother encouraged him to take a long ride and clear his mind.

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