Page 69 of When the Rogue Returns
“Oh, right, I forgot. Rupert said it came out only a few months ago.”
Victor nodded. “As far as I knew, my father was an English soldier who’d paid for his whoring days by dying insane at Gheel.” His voice grew ragged. “And who made us pay for them, too.”
Suddenly she understood why he was finally telling her all this about his family. “So you’re saying you really did remain celibate all those years. And this is why.”
“Yes.” His jaw tautened. “Although at first it didn’t have that effect on me. When Mother wasted away from grief and then died herself, I joined the Prussian army because I knew the regimental life, and because I knew they would take me even at seventeen.”
“So that’s how you ended up fighting at Waterloo.”
“Yes. Father had instilled in me a hatred of Boney, so I was itching for glory, glad to be part of the fight against the French. And like any soldier, I played as hard as I fought, making frequent use of the camp followers.”
He laid his hand on hers and gripped it tightly. “But then a friend of mine caught the clap from one of them, and that brought it all back to me—Mother’s suffering, Father’s madness—and I realized how dangerous a game I was playing. I stopped consorting with camp followers then and there.”
Both of his hands now clutched hers. He stared down to where they were joined, and his voice dulled. “After you left... I considered it again. I was so lonely that even a whore—” He choked off the words. “But I could never blot the image of Father trying to stab Mother from my mind.”
Tears clogged her throat, but she was careful not to let them out. Some instinct told her that he would not endure pity from her.
“Then I considered taking a mistress,” he went on, threading his fingers through hers. “Until I realized how lucky Mother had been, that when she found herself with child, Father was willing to marry her. I couldn’t marry anyone I sired a child upon; I was still married to you.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “In the end, I figured it was better to pleasure myself. Less risky.”
She could hardly breathe. “So... no other women.”
“No.” He caught her by the chin. “Not since you.”
His kiss was gentler this time, more like the kisses of their youth, and rich with memories of all they’d been to each other and a promise of what they could be, if they put the past behind them. It made her wish she could linger forever in his embrace. When he drew back, it was to settle her more firmly in his arms, with her head tucked beneath his chin.
“Tell me about Amalie,” he said.
The yearning in his voice made her heart twist in her chest. How she hated that her family’s actions had torn him from his child.Theirchild. “Oh, Victor, you’ll adore her. She can be willful at times, like any child, but she has a knack for seeing the good in everyone.”
“That can be a curse,” he said, and she knew he was thinking of her and her family.
“It can also be a blessing. Any disparaging remarks she hears about her mother who’s in trade or about her lack of a father roll right off of her back.” When he tensed, she added hastily, “She tells me that those people are just jealous because I’m so brilliant and they have boring, regular mothers.”
As she’d hoped, that made him chuckle, and the rumble of it settled her anxiousness over wanting him to like Amalie, to be proud of her and see her for the wonderful girl that she was.
“Does she have her mother’s talent for chemicals?” he asked.
“Not a jot. She says chemicals are messy, nasty things.” She nuzzled his chest, drank in the scent of his musk oil. “But if I have anything to say about it, she won’t need to learn a trade to survive. Not only is she pretty, but thanks to her schooling, she’s so accomplished she’ll have men clamoring to marry her.”
“As did you.”
She lifted her head to eye him askance. “You were the only one who wanted to marry me, if you’ll recall.”
“I was merely the only one who dared to ask,” Victor said dryly. “The jewelers’ apprentices all had their eyes on you.”
“Nonsense. They were hateful to me.”
“Only because you ignored their attempts at courtship.”
She stared at him. “Whatattempts?”
Amusement showed in his face as he smoothed a lock of her hair from her cheek. “Their posturing. Their bragging about their prowess at shooting or hawking, and their talk of their connections to men of rank.”
“That was courtship?” she said, incredulous. “I just thought they were all braggarts.”
He shrugged. “Some men think that’s how to court a woman, by preening and showing their feathers forher.”
“You didn’t,” she said softly.
