Page 90 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be part of that world again. It’s haughty and cruel and pitiless. Intolerant of those who don’t adhere to the strict rules that are as ancient as this country. I abhor it. I’m glad not to be part of it.”
“It is my world.”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “I cannot—will not—make it mine again.”
He considered walking over and pouring his own whisky. He was in need of it. “I know it won’t be easy, but you won’t be alone. I’ll be there. My family, my friends—”
She moved her head from side to side with more force, more speed. “They spit on me, you know. Ladies of quality. When I passed them on the street or crossed paths with them at the dressmaker. They hug their children close as though I am a leper. Do you know why I wrested this house from Landsdowne, why I made him an offer so generous he would be forced to take it? So I could lord it over them that they may be petty and small but I have the means to live like a queen.”
“But is it not lonely in your castle?”
She turned her back on him, and he suspected at that moment she hated him with every breath she drew. He walked over to the table of decanters, poured two glasses of whisky, strode to where she stood so stiffly he feared she’d shatter.
When he held a glass out to her, he wished she hadn’t looked at him, that he hadn’t seen the deep pain and hurt reflected in her eyes. Still, she accepted his offering and took a long swallow.
“I know what it is to bear the brunt of unkindness, Tillie.”
She scoffed, following that ugly sound with an even more hideous laugh. He didn’t blame her for lashing out at him.
“I was only twelve, new to being away from home, new to Eton. Perhaps if I’d been older, I’d have not felt the pain of not being accepted so sharply. Certainly now I could care less what a man thinks of me. But then it meant everything. They thought me unworthy of being in their presence because my mother came from the streets. I suffered at their hands. I hid from them—in attics and bell towers and among the foliage. But the escape was only temporary because one must get on with life. It was only when I stood up to them that I showed myself worthy. And I developed a good right jab.”
Her mouth gave the tiniest of twitches but it was enough to offer him hope. “I am not saying that a boy’s hurts cannot run deep, but they can’t compare to a woman’s when she is cast out and cast aside,” she said softly.
“You’re right, of course. I don’t mean to imply my experience in any way equals what you have suffered, but I do have an inkling regarding what you are going through,” he offered quietly. “I always had my family and my friends to lend me their strength and support, to be there when I was in need. I don’t believe you had that—not family or friends who stood beside you—except for Gina, and she would have been too young to carry any sort of weight. How could you lean on her? Even now that she’s grown, you don’t. For all intents and purposes you’ve been on your own, alone, to face the dragons. You no longer have to be. I will stand beside you and so will my family and friends.”
“Because their loyalty is to you. How easily they can remove their support if they are not pleased with me or you ask them to cast me aside.”
“Once they get to know you, you will have their loyalty.”
“I don’t need them. I don’t want them.”
“But perhaps they need you. How better their world would be if you were in it. You’ve been strong for so long. Lean on me, trust me to take care of you.”
Staring into those imploring blue eyes, she couldn’t help but believe he was saying he needed her, that his world would be better if she were in it. But she had loved before and been betrayed. If her sister suffered because of her misdeeds, how could her children not?
Life had taught her to trust only herself. She turned away from him before she fell into those blue depths, before she promised her heart and soul to him, before he made her forget how humiliation at the hands of those she’d once considered friends could be.
She walked to the window, gazed out but she could see his faint reflection in the pane, watching her, waiting. “I’ve had others promise to take care of me. Promises can be broken.”
“Mine won’t be. I love you, Tillie. With every beat of my heart, every breath that I draw.”
She slammed her eyes closed. Not fair, not fair, not fair. Not when she knew her past actions had the power to bring him to ruin. “You can’t.”
“But I do.”
She shook her head. “I will not move back into Society, regardless of your words or promises.”
“To hell with Society then,” he said. “We’ll live at Kingsbrook Park. Avoid the social scene altogether. Raise horses and children.”
Children? The word was like a blow to her midsection. Was he implying marriage? She wanted nothing more than to give him children—but how might they suffer because of her scandals? She couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for any unkindness they might endure.
Opening her eyes, she forced herself to stare at his wavering reflection. If she turned to face him, saw him with clarity, she might fall into his arms. “The terms of our arrangement were for an affair. While it has been a glorious undertaking, I have no wish to extend our relationship beyond that.”
A lie, but he didn’t need the likes of her in his life. His birth gave him responsibilities and obligations. She couldn’t imagine him casting them aside in favor of her. He might believe he could do it, but he was a product of his upbringing—and she wouldn’t ask him to be less than he was.
“It seems I misjudged your affection,” he said quietly.
