Page 67 of Marry in Secret
There was a short pause, and when she finally spoke he heard a thread of anger in her voice. “I’m not nearly finished with you, Thomas Beresford, but you’re right, I’d better go home. I have no idea what the time is, and I don’t want Emm to worry. Will you stay to supper?”
“No. Thank you.” He was aware he sounded like a brute: curt, brusque and ungrateful for the generosity she’d shown him. It was natural for her to be curious, but he couldn’t bear to talk about it with anyone, let alone Rose.
“You should eat some supper. You’re too thin.”
“My body is still adjusting to English food. I’ll have toast or something at Ollie’s.”
“Ollie’s, yes. When do you think we’ll be able to move into this house?”
He shrugged, even though it was too dark in the room for her to see. “Whenever you decide it’s ready, I suppose. Seeing as you’ve taken it on as a project.” He sounded callous, as if he didn’t care. He did, but he was rattled. She’d caught him unaware. That was the trouble with making love—it relaxed a man, made him talkative, unwary.
He’d planned never to let her know he’d been a galley slave, the lowest of the low, barely existing, laboring in stinking, unbearable servitude. And instead he’d blabbed it without thinking, while looking for a damned stocking.
“In that case, I’ll let you know.” She was cross with him, but she’d get over it. She didn’t hold a grudge, his Rose. She was as direct in her anger as in everything else. Thank God for it. He knew where he stood with Rose.
But he wasn’t giving in. Some things were simply too... private.
***
Rose sat curled up in her bed, hugging her knees, brooding. One of the things she’d always loved about Thomas, back when they first met, was that they could talk about anything. They’d talked about everything under the sun. She told him about her family, how worried she was about Lily who was so sick, about the rest of her family, the people at school.
She’d talked to him about things she’d never spoken about to anyone else—dreams, random thoughts, worries—and he shared his thoughts and ideas with her.
She knew about his childhood, his mother dying, his father’s naval career and Thomas’s thoughts about following in his footsteps. He’d told her about the uncle who’d taken him under his wing, the cousins he’d grown up with, Gerald with whom he’d gone away to school, and Ambrose, his uncle’s illegitimate son.
It had sounded like a relatively carefree and happy childhood and a close-knit family—so why had his uncle and cousin turned their backs on him? Such a ruthless and hard-hearted act of abandonment. It made no sense to her, but perhaps there was something he wasn’t telling her. He’d been quite closemouthed about them to her family, too, telling them he had no family.
Who was this uncle? Thomas had only ever spoken of Uncle Walter—no surname or title—and Gerald and Ambrose. And though he’d referred to his home with obvious fondness, he’d never mentioned the name of the house, or even a town or village nearby. Justhome. Which had become no home at all.
She’d always assumed that it was accidental that he hadn’t originally mentioned them by name; now it seemed deliberate.
And now, he’d practically bitten her head off for askingabout something that had happened to him, something serious and hurtful that she needed to know about.
She’d shared the trauma of her miscarriage with him. That was his business as much as hers. And how he got his dreadful scars was something she needed, as his wife, to understand.
He’d talked about it with Ned, but he couldn’t talk about it with her. That hurt. But maybe it was a male thing. She would ask Ned about it in the morning.
***
She broached the matter with her brother-in-law and sister when they were out for their usual morning exercise in the park. They’d been for a good fast ride—it was the only time it was possible, when the park was almost deserted—and had blown away the cobwebs and given the horses and Finn a good run. Now while George and Cal were flinging a stick for the dog, Rose and Lily and Ned were letting their horses amble slowly along as they talked.
“I know he talked to you about it, Ned, for he told me he had, but when I asked him about it he just clammed up. And when I persisted he got quite short with me.”
“He didn’t exactly tell me about it, Rose. I made a good guess and surprised him into admitting it. We never actually discussed it.”
That made her feel a bit better. But not much. “But why would he not want to tell me about it? I don’t understand.”
Ned hesitated. “It’s not a very nice topic for a lady.”
She gave him an indignant look. “I’m his wife. If he had to endure it, I can certainly bear to listen to it.”
Ned grimaced. “I didn’t mean that, exactly.”
Lily leaned forward. “Perhaps he feels ashamed of what happened to him, Rose. Or guilty.”
“Why would he feel guilty? Or ashamed? It wasn’t his fault.”
“People feel shame for all sorts of reasons,” Lily saidquietly. “For things they did, for things they couldn’t help, and sometimes, for things that were done to them.”
