Page 46 of Sinful Persuasion of a Lady in the Making
Chapter Sixteen
“So…” she began tentatively, not wanting to ruin the good cheer, but desperate to know more. She wanted to know everything there was to know about him.
“So?” he asked.
“Well, there must be more to the rumors than only that,” she said. “I know there’s certainly a lot more to mine.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot we were talking about my past,” he said, twisting his nose in disgust. “My least favorite topic of conversation.”
“Perhaps,” Jenny said with a shrug, “but we must all bear our least favorites, from time to time.”
He snorted, half laughing but nodding his agreement.
“All right. As soon as I could, I ran away. To France. To the war. I was desperate to put my grief behind me.”
“And to punish yourself for your perceived crimes, no doubt.”
“Heavens, Miss Jones,” he snapped, and she jumped. “You are far too astute.”
She chuckled, relieved he was not genuinely annoyed.
“I am sorry. I shall try to act a little more vapid in future.”
“Oh, goodness me, that’s worse,” he said. “Please don’t. I like you just the way you are.”
She smiled, chewing on her lip, but despite the glint in his eye, she could see the underlying sadness in him.
“My Lord,” she said, taking his hand in hers and urging him to look at her. “Wherever your parents are now, I can assure you they do not blame you, who was just a boy at the time, for their deaths.”
“Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But they would be ashamed of the man I have become.”
“No,” Jenny said. “You have become a good man, and no one can blame you for wanting a little… fun.”
“Diana tells me often enough that they would be ashamed,” he scoffed.
His hand felt warm in hers, the skin soft but worn from use and lack of care. She liked the feeling, the slight roughness to his touch, and she let her fingertips trace the shape of his palm.
“Tell me more,” she urged, wanting to hear his voice, wanting to help him purge the emotions he had held onto so tightly.
“Do I have to?” he asked, looking at her askance and with an exaggerated smile.
“Yes,” she said, the word not sounding quite right thanks to the laughter it disguised. “You said you wanted me to know the truth, and now you have me entirely enraptured by your story. Tell me!”
“Ugh,” he said, rolling his eyes and laughing, but then he looked away, quietened by his memories. “The war was horrific in ways you can never imagine.”
“I do not even want to imagine,” Jenny admitted, balking at the thought. “War is for men and brutes.”
“More brutes than men,” Lord Hartwood said with a sigh. “And it did not do what I intended, either. In fact, it did quite the opposite. I came home full of even more grief than I had when I left. I had friends who—”
His voice cracked and Jenny squeezed his hand. He closed his eyes, composing himself, then looked back up at her with a sad smile. She tilted her head and returned his gaze, but she said nothing.
“Societal balls and soirees only ever remind me of the life I never had—and could never have. Gaming halls and drinking dens, while far from ideal places to spend time, are at least ignorant of my past and they ignore the woes of my future.”
“And I have no doubt that they are fun,” Jenny said with a chuckle.
“Well, they can be,” he said with a twisted grin. “But there, I can be anonymous. And those who do know me well enough to know my past don’t care.”
“I can certainly see the appeal in that,” Jenny said soberly. “To be invisible is something I have wished for more than once since beginning this new life of mine. But really, My Lord,” she said, letting out a little chuckle. “You act as though you have committed some terrible atrocities, but you have not. You were but a boy, lost in a new world that you did not understand.”
