Page 55 of Everything a Lady is Not
A grim expression again chased the smile from his face, returning the stony countenance to which she had grown accustomed. She feared he might not answer the question.
“Yes,” he said at last. “James made clear his opinion that I am a lesser member of House Beaumont who should seek his future elsewhere and without assistance, financial or otherwise. This place became my home, not Northumberland. When I finished school, the cavalry seemed an acceptable alternative to begging my brother for funds.”
“Why?”
“Why the cavalry?”
“No, muttonhead. Why did your brother consider you a lesser member? Did you offend him?”
He nodded. “I offended him very much.”
“If I may pry, how did you earn his disapproval?”
He gazed at his open hands. “I killed my mother.”
She could only stare, speechless, as a hundred scenarios competed for ascendency in her imagination, each one more horrifying than the last. “Your…your mother?”
He glanced up with eyes devoid of life. “She died giving birth to me, the first instance of my vile destiny.”
“But you were an infant. Surely you don’t blame yourself?”
“Perhaps I wouldn’t, if not for everything else.”
“Everything else?”
He returned to the study of his hands, as if examining blood stains. “On my first hunting outing with Father, I recklessly shot and killed my favorite dog, Percy. Then, when a suitor visited Charlotte in Father’s absence, I threw myself at him like a savage animal and beat him until his nose was broken and my fists were bloody. I was only eleven.” He hesitated. “But that was not the worst of it.”
She closed her eyes, trying to remain silent, but failed. “What happened?”
“My father fell dead of apoplexy while in the process of berating me for stealing food to impress the daughter of a footman.” He stopped and whispered inaudible words, swaying slightly as his eyes grew vacant. “And James was always sure to remind me why I did these things. That mine was a lost soul because of my ancestry.”
“What ancestry?” Though she should not pry, Lucy’s curiosity could not be contained.
“My mother was the daughter of an arch rogue.”
Lucy blinked with surprise. “Your…your grandfather was a criminal?”
He heaved a deep sigh. “Yes. He ran a highly successful smuggling ring out of Dumfries in Scotland. He was a cutthroat, a scoundrel, and a villain of the first order.”
She blinked again at the shocking news. “How…how did your father come to…”
When she left the question hanging, Henry nodded. “My father dabbled in the import of illegal whiskey to burnish estate profits, and my grandfather was his, ah, contact in the enterprise. The first time he laid eyes on my mother, he fell heels over head in love with her, the lonely widower that he was.”
“She must have been a rare beauty, then.”
“Yes, from what I’ve heard.” He paused in seeming recollection. “They married after a torrid courtship. Thetoneventually forgave my father that indiscretion due to his station, but my brother never did. He saw in me the seed of a criminal, come to taint the family with inevitable criminal behavior. Thus, it is my lot in life to set a solo course and strive to avoid my inevitable descent toward my grandfather’s corrupt nature.”
The confession left Lucy stunned. However, she at least understood the stigma of a criminal connection and the desire to rise above it. She also understood the life of one who walked alone in search of a better path. She mumbled, “I shall find a way or make one.”
He regathered his focus and glanced at her in surprise. “You know Seneca well enough to quote him?”
“I know most of the major Roman philosophers and a few minor ones.”
He shook his head again while watching her. An unlikely soft smile formed. “You are an odd one, Lucy Locket. Odd indeed.”
“You are not the first to offer that assessment. Only the most recent. Thank you for joining that very long list of those who discredit me.”
“I meant not to discredit you, but rather to comment on your unique quality.”
