Page 58 of Her Beautiful Bastard
“You did not have to accept me,” he said quietly, a bit of the tension easing out of his body, his hands uncurling at his sides. “If you did not love me, you should have simply said so. It would have hurt, but I could have recovered.”
I could have gone on to meet Lydia, free and unattached.
She snorted, shaking her head again. “And risk upsetting Papa, who was so determined for you to become the master of Buckton? He always believed you’d do it … you were so bloody brilliant, and everyone knew it. Besides, we both know no other man in the country would have me. Not with my … disease.”
Sinclair studied his wife, wondering how he’d never seen this insecurity in her. A woman so beautiful she had men trailing in her wake everywhere she went, even after she’d wed. She was wrong. She could have had any man she’d wanted, he was certain. But, perhaps she had not known that. Maybe, he thought suddenly, she’d been told otherwise. For all the love he bore the earl, he cursed the man in this moment for what he’d done to Drucilla, and by proxy, Sinclair himself.
“We are quite a pair, aren’t we?” he said with a little laugh. “A bastard and sickly shrew.”
She met his gaze again, her lips quivering with mirth. “It is fodder worthy of one of those illicit novels.”
He smirked, leaning against one of the bedposts, staring down at her. “I tried, Dru. I did try to love you, to make you love me. Even if you never loved me back, I would have been content if you’d simply tried, as well. We could have been something better than this … something … I do not know. Friends, perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” she hedged, glancing down at the counterpane. “But, after Henry was born, I didn’t think you would ever forgive me. When you returned from London, you were so cold, so distant …”
“You never asked,” he told her. “I might have forgiven you if you’d asked, if you had explained why you and Miles had betrayed me. It would have been difficult, but I was already prepared to claim Henry. I could have brought myself to forgive you.”
Drucilla squeezed her eyes shut and sighed, leaning back against her pillows. “God, what a mess we’ve made.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But that is over now. You should … you should rest.”
She laughed, the sound a rough bark. “I’ve been resting in beds since I was a girl. I am sick to death of resting. I want Henry. I want to hold him and talk to him and … will you send him to me?”
Pity lanced through him, for her as well as for his son. This would be hell for her, knowing she did not have much time, and hell for his son after she was gone. The days ahead of them would be dark ones, and he had no notion how to navigate them.
But, he nodded, deciding that even after all the pain she’d caused him, in her last days, Drucilla would have everything she wanted.
“Of course,” he replied. “I’ll have Mrs. Beecham bring him as soon as he has had breakfast.”
She nodded and closed her eyes again, a tear tracking down one hollowed cheek. “Sin … I’m afraid.”
He perched on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand—the first time he’d touched her with any sort of tenderness in years. Raising it to his lips, he kissed her knuckles. Her eyes opened in shock, and she gazed up at him as he patted her hand with his other one reassuringly.
“I know,” he murmured. “But we are all here, for whatever you need.”
She sighed. “Henry will do for now.”
He patted her hand again and stood to leave once more, but her voice drew him up short at the door.
“Sin?”
He turned, one hand braced upon the doorknob. “Yes?”
“Miss Darling. I do not like her.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “That does not surprise me at all.”
“She is brash and common,” Drucilla went on, her voice taking on its haughty tone once again. “She’s a hoyden who enjoys men’s pursuits, and it is no wonder she’s gone unmarried for so long.”
Leaning against the door, he smiled, a laugh simmering in his chest. “Yes. All those things are true … they also happen to be all the reasons I love her.”
Drucilla nodded, as if she’d suspected as much. “Yes, well. She is quite perfect for you, you know. Be sure you do a better job of making her happy than you did me.”
He raised an eyebrow and fought not to laugh again, knowing that this was as close to a blessing or any sort of well-wishes he was likely to get from Drucilla. “I will certainly try.”
“That is, if she will even have you,” she added. “After all, she might be a brash hoyden, but she does have some sense.”
“That, she does,” he added before finally taking his leave.
