Page 51 of The Pleasures of Passion
Fighting to ignore her desire to believe him, she pushed free of his embrace. “Your father didn’t seem to think so.”
Pain slashed across his face. “My father—right.” He thrust his hands into his greatcoat pockets. “Let’s assume for the moment that I’m telling the truth about not having a mistress, and that you’re telling the truth about what my father said. Why did you believe him?”
“He was your father. Why wouldn’t I?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Because he might have had another motive for blackening my reputation? You may recall I was initially reluctant to introduce you.”
“Yes.” She stared him down. “Because you never really intended to marry me. Admit it: You were ashamed of me because I was not of your station.”
Anger flared in his eyes before he banked it. “I was never ashamed of you.”
“You didn’t even introduce me to your sister or your mother—”
“I didn’t want to burden my sister with my secrets, and my mother is the most indiscreet person in the world—as you ought to know, having met her. She would have told my father at once.”
“Which would have ruined everything,” she said sarcastically.
“It would have indeed, if he’d disapproved of the match and cut me off financially. And back then I did worry that he might, given thatyourfather—”
“Was a wastrel,” she said. “Yes, I know. But your father wasn’t haughty. He didn’t seem to look down on me. Indeed, he was kind, even pitying. He seemed to feel sorry for me that I didn’t know your true character.”
“Itwasmy character once,” he said unsteadily, his eyes burning into hers. “But not after I met you. Then I wanted to have you—and only you—for my own.” His voice hardened. “I made that very clear to him before I left for the Continent. He swore to me that if you came to him, he would help you.”
She fought to breathe. “You’re saying I’m lying about what he told me.”
“I’m saying . . .” He released a shuddering breath. “Perhaps you misunderstood him. Perhaps—”
“I did not misunderstand him!” she cried. “Do you know what it meant to me to hear that you . . . had been deceiving me all along? My world collapsed. I walked around in a state of shock, knowing you were lost to me forever. Your father had no interest in helping me, and Captain Trevor had given Papa only two choices.”
She gulped down air. “Either I accepted Reynold’s hand in marriage, in which case Captain Trevor would forgive Papa’s entire debt. Or I refused it, and our family, including my sick mother, would be carted off to debtors’ prison.”
Horror suffused Niall’s features. “God, Bree, the debt was as bad as all that?”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Father never could resist high stakes, drat him.”
Niall paced before her, as if trying to make sense of what she was saying. Then he halted to look at her. “Did you tell my father this?”
“Of course not. And have him think me some sort ofadventuresswho was after his son’s money?” When he winced to have his words thrown back at him, she went on hastily, “I did have my pride, especially after he told me about your . . . your paramour.”
“Bree, there was no—”
“Anyway,” she went on, unable to hear his protest again, “I’d pinned my hopes on your saving me somehow, perhaps helping to pay off the debt . . . anything that might delay the inevitable. But after your father refused to send the letter, saying that you weren’t the sort of man to honor your promises, I . . . died inside. I agreed to marry Reynold, telling myself that I would grow to love him, that he was a nice man, that it was a good thing he was notyou.”
She clasped one fist to her chest. “But my heart refused to believe it. It wanted you.” She glared at him. “I fought hard and long to cut you out of my stupid heart. I’ve spent the last several years doing so, and now you have the nerve to come here and—”
“What do you thinkIwas doing all that time, damn it?” He stepped close to her. “The announcement of your marriage, which Father dutifully sent to me, ended my hopes for us. That was the real reason I went to work for Fulkham—to forget. To put you out of my mind. And my heart.”
“Did you succeed?”
“Didyou?”
She glanced away. “Will you believe me if I say I did?”
“No.” He seized her hands. “Because you don’t kiss like a woman who doesn’t care anymore. You don’t look at me like a woman who doesn’t care anymore.”
Drat the man for always seeing through her defenses. “That’s why I didn’t tell you about my marriage! Because I knew if you heard the truth, you would use it to . . . to try to get me back into your bed. You already assume, as all men do, that a widow is eternally lonely for a man, so she would swallow any amount of pride to—”
He cut her off with a kiss. And it was every bit as glorious as the last one, long and ardent and oh so tempting.
