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Authors: Christina Brooke
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a little as if she reeled from a blow. She seemed to catch herself. “You mean … You mean you’ve known where I was all this time?” An admission, but he didn’t pounce on it.
“I knew almost from the first.”
He paused while she digested this. Then he said, “I assured myself that you were safe and content, of course. I would have intervened otherwise.”
She raised her gaze to his. “Then you are not here to take me back to my father?”
“Your father has lately been obliged to leave England,” said Xavier.
Her eyes were wide. “Did you have something to do with that?”
“I?” said Xavier, disconcerted at her insight. “Why should you think that?”
It had taken years to slowly dismantle Bute’s fortune piece by piece, but Xavier was nothing if not patient. Bankrupt, hounded by creditors, Bute had fled to the Continent. Xavier had done that to him in vengeance for Nerissa. And for this girl.
She shook her head, frowning into the distance. “I saw you that night, you know. With that whip wrapped around his throat.” She met his eyes briefly, then looked away. “A part of me was glad.”
So that was it. He’d feared his violence was the cause of her flight. Had she also seen his mother? Might she have recognized Nerissa with lash marks crossing her lower back like ghastly stay laces? Could that slip of a girl possibly have interpreted the scene correctly when even he had not?
“How did you keep apprised of my welfare?” she said. “Was it Lady Chard?”
“Mr. Allbright kept me informed.”
Her hand flew to her cheek. “Mr. Allbright! He knows?”
“He knows,” said Xavier.
“Oh. Oh .” She swayed and groped a little, as if for support, but there was nothing solid within her reach except him. He took her elbow to steady her and slipped her fan from her slackened grasp. He led her to sit on the bench.
Flipping his tails, Xavier sat beside her and waited.
She buried her face in her hands. “All this time…” Her voice was muffled, but he made out the words. “All this time I’ve felt so guilty and he … He knew.”
He waited, hoping she would not turn into one of those hysterical females he so deplored.
It was a lot to take in, of course. He couldn’t blame her for being upset. But he had to tell her these things. They’d make it easier for her to accept what now must be.
She didn’t weep, however. Her breath came in huge, shuddering gasps, which, affected him in some strange way he couldn’t quite define.
“Look at me,” he said, and knew a fleeting wish that his voice didn’t always sound so clipped and cold.
Slowly, she lowered her hands and raised her head.
In a low tone, he said, “I had hoped never to bother you again. But now I need your help, Alexandra.”
“Lizzie,” she corrected on a long exhale. “My name is Lizzie now. I won’t answer to anything else.”
“Lizzie, then.”
He turned her fan in his hands, frowning down at it. He opened it, then shut it again. For some reason, it was far more difficult to phrase his proposition than he’d expected.
He met her gaze. “Lizzie,” he said, “it is time for you to fulfill your duties as my wife.”
Chapter Six
Reeling from the marquis’s disclosures, Lizzie fought in vain for calm. All those times she’d lied to Mr. Allbright—flat-out lied to him—and he’d never shown by the flicker of an eyelash that he knew the truth. The vicar’s capacity for forgiveness humbled and shamed her.
Slowly, she came back to the present. With a jolt, she realized what Steyne actually wanted. Well, hadn’t she anticipated something of the sort?
“You need an heir,” she said dully.
“We are married, ma’am. I could attempt to beguile you with pretty words, but I don’t believe in prevarication.”
She gave a choked, mirthless laugh. She could not imagine him ever indulging in flattery.
“Just so,” he said, as if he read her thoughts. “You see, you are the only one who can give me a
“I knew almost from the first.”
He paused while she digested this. Then he said, “I assured myself that you were safe and content, of course. I would have intervened otherwise.”
She raised her gaze to his. “Then you are not here to take me back to my father?”
“Your father has lately been obliged to leave England,” said Xavier.
Her eyes were wide. “Did you have something to do with that?”
“I?” said Xavier, disconcerted at her insight. “Why should you think that?”
It had taken years to slowly dismantle Bute’s fortune piece by piece, but Xavier was nothing if not patient. Bankrupt, hounded by creditors, Bute had fled to the Continent. Xavier had done that to him in vengeance for Nerissa. And for this girl.
She shook her head, frowning into the distance. “I saw you that night, you know. With that whip wrapped around his throat.” She met his eyes briefly, then looked away. “A part of me was glad.”
So that was it. He’d feared his violence was the cause of her flight. Had she also seen his mother? Might she have recognized Nerissa with lash marks crossing her lower back like ghastly stay laces? Could that slip of a girl possibly have interpreted the scene correctly when even he had not?
“How did you keep apprised of my welfare?” she said. “Was it Lady Chard?”
“Mr. Allbright kept me informed.”
Her hand flew to her cheek. “Mr. Allbright! He knows?”
“He knows,” said Xavier.
“Oh. Oh .” She swayed and groped a little, as if for support, but there was nothing solid within her reach except him. He took her elbow to steady her and slipped her fan from her slackened grasp. He led her to sit on the bench.
Flipping his tails, Xavier sat beside her and waited.
She buried her face in her hands. “All this time…” Her voice was muffled, but he made out the words. “All this time I’ve felt so guilty and he … He knew.”
He waited, hoping she would not turn into one of those hysterical females he so deplored.
It was a lot to take in, of course. He couldn’t blame her for being upset. But he had to tell her these things. They’d make it easier for her to accept what now must be.
She didn’t weep, however. Her breath came in huge, shuddering gasps, which, affected him in some strange way he couldn’t quite define.
“Look at me,” he said, and knew a fleeting wish that his voice didn’t always sound so clipped and cold.
Slowly, she lowered her hands and raised her head.
In a low tone, he said, “I had hoped never to bother you again. But now I need your help, Alexandra.”
“Lizzie,” she corrected on a long exhale. “My name is Lizzie now. I won’t answer to anything else.”
“Lizzie, then.”
He turned her fan in his hands, frowning down at it. He opened it, then shut it again. For some reason, it was far more difficult to phrase his proposition than he’d expected.
He met her gaze. “Lizzie,” he said, “it is time for you to fulfill your duties as my wife.”
Chapter Six
Reeling from the marquis’s disclosures, Lizzie fought in vain for calm. All those times she’d lied to Mr. Allbright—flat-out lied to him—and he’d never shown by the flicker of an eyelash that he knew the truth. The vicar’s capacity for forgiveness humbled and shamed her.
Slowly, she came back to the present. With a jolt, she realized what Steyne actually wanted. Well, hadn’t she anticipated something of the sort?
“You need an heir,” she said dully.
“We are married, ma’am. I could attempt to beguile you with pretty words, but I don’t believe in prevarication.”
She gave a choked, mirthless laugh. She could not imagine him ever indulging in flattery.
“Just so,” he said, as if he read her thoughts. “You see, you are the only one who can give me a
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