Page 111 of The Art of Sinning
“Art Sacrificed to Commerce.” He held his breath, waiting for her to make the inevitable connection.
“Ah. So it’s about your father not letting you go to art school when you wanted.”
A maniacal urge to laugh rose up in him. Mother had never been very deep. “That’s not what Yvette says. She says it’s about Hannah, about my guilt over her death. Amanda told her some nonsense about how she looks like my late wife.”
“Well, that’s absurd. Your fiancée looks nothing like your late wife.” She snorted. “Amanda never was very observant when it came to people. I hope she didn’t upset Lady Yvette too much.”
A lump stuck in his throat. “As a matter of fact, my fiancée doesn’t want tobemy fiancée anymore. She’s convinced that I haven’t let go of the past. She says that marriage isn’t for those who are still living past tragedies.”
“Ah.”
When she said nothing more, he slanted a glance at her. For the first time, he realized how old his mother was getting. She was still in her late fifties, but gray had finally begun to overtake the auburn in her hair, and time had etched lines in her face where there had been none before. Had all this happened in just eight months?
Your mother and sister need you. They suffered along with you back then, though you probably couldn’t see it. Let them help you grieve now and put it behind you at last. So you can go on.
“Why didn’t you stop him?” The question he’d always wanted to ask burst out, and he realized that if there had been any rift between Mother and him, it was this. That she hadn’t prevented Hannah’s death.
When Mother paled, he said, “Forgive me. I know you don’t like to speak of it, but surelyyoudidn’t think Father’s choice was right—to save the babe over my wife.”
She began to tremble. “Must we talk about this?”
“I think we must. If I’m to lose the woman I love over it, then let me at least—”
He halted as he heard himself. The woman he loved.
God, he was such a fool. He loved Yvette.
Of course he loved her. How could he not? She was his lodestone, drawing him in. Anchoring him to the world, to a reality outside his past. He’d been so convinced he couldn’t or shouldn’t or wouldn’t fall in love that he’d refused to see the truth slapping him in the face.
He loved her. And if he wanted to get her back, if he wanted to make a life with her, he would have to change things.
His mother looked as if she might faint. Hastily he went to her side and urged her to sit on the settee opposite the sofa.
He sat next to her and took her hand, noting the blue veins that grew more prominent with each passing year. “I don’t mean to upset you, Mother, and I don’t ask this to accuse you of anything or blame you for anything. I just need to understand why you let him do it. Why you didn’t stop it.”
She gripped his hand in hers. “Because I agreed with his choice.”
He gaped at her. Surely she hadn’t said what he thought.
“You weren’t there, Jeremy. She was in agony. Even at nine months along, she was such a frail thing, and pale as death besides. The doctor said she probably wouldn’t survive the birth anyway, even if we destroyed the child. He said that if he opened her up, we might still save the babe.” She thrust out her chin. “Your father gave the order, but I agreed with it. Perhaps I was wrong, but—”
“Why did you never tell me this?” he asked in a hollow voice.
“So you could cutmeout of your life, too?” She swiped a tear angrily away. “You were both so stubborn, you and your father. He wanted to force you to his will, and you fought that with every ounce of your being. And after Hannah died, he blamed the doctor, you blamed him, and I knew better than to take a side.” Her words grew choked. “I didn’t want to lose my only son. But I suppose I lost you anyway.”
“No,” he said earnestly. “Never. I love you, Mother. I just... couldn’t bear to go back to Montague, to face the truth. That I should have been there.Ishould have made the choice.”
“If you had, it wouldn’t have ended any differently, my dear boy. I never was able to make you accept it, but sometimes people just die, and there’s not a damned thing we can do about it.”
She pulled his head down and kissed the top, as she’d done so many times when he was a boy, and he clutched her to him, fighting the tears stinging his eyes.
“I know your father was a hard man,” she whispered into his hair. “He never understood you, and he didn’t know a blasted thing about how to talk to people without getting their backs up. But he didn’t want Hannah dead, I swear. He just saw a chance to save his grandchild, and he took it.”
Jeremy’s control crumbled. Gripping his mother tight, he gave way to his grief—for the wife no one had been able to save, for the baby that had never had a chance, for the years he had lost with the hard man who’d been his father.
Mother held him and murmured soothing nonsense, as if he were her little boy again. And he didn’t care. There was something freeing about losing himself in the comfort of his mother’s arms.
After a while he pulled away to find Mother crying, but she was smiling through her tears. She cupped his cheek tenderly. “Oh, my poor lad. You must leave it behind.”
