The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

“It’s an acquired taste.” He poured a half measure of port into the daintiest glass on the tray and handed it to her before returning to his seat. “The first gulp is the hardest to bear.”

She watched him over the rim of her glass while sipping her port. Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Jacob gave me the letters.”

“And did they make for interesting reading?” Oh, he knew Cassandra well enough to guess the nature of their contents. “I suspect they are not for the faint-hearted.”

“Interesting is not the word I would use.” Rose breathed deeply. “I found them rather sad.”

“Sad? For whom?”

“For you.”

A heavy silence filled the air.

His heart raced. Not because he gave a damn about Cassandra’s antics, or what people thought of him, but because those two words brimmed with tenderness.

“I don’t need your pity, Rose.” He had to be sure he wasn’t mistaken. “I was foolish and naive. Some might call me pathetic for ignoring the matter. But the truth is I’d grown weary of her games.”

Christian swallowed the rest of his brandy, but it failed to soothe him.

“It’s not pity. I find it sad that you didn’t receive the love and recognition you deserved. You’re a good father, an honourable man.”

“And a terrible husband.”

“From what little I know of you, I don’t believe that’s true.”

There it was again. An unnamed emotion lingered behind the words.

“I did not love my wife.” He had no idea why he was telling a stranger about his personal affairs. But Rose was easy to talk to, and he had been alone for so long. “That makes me the worst kind of husband.”

Rose sat forward. “And it is clear from the content of the letters that she did not love you, either. That’s what makes it sad. Two lives ruined, and for what?”

Christian snorted. “To appease overbearing parents.”

For a man born with privilege and title, love was bottom of the list when looking for someone to wed.

“Then you should count yourself lucky.” A weary sigh left her lips. “At least your father didn’t lock you away and deprive you of your freedom.”

A woman as innocent as Rose had no idea how destructive a volatile marriage could be. “Marriage was my prison. And while I’m blessed to have two wonderful children, I am not sorry Cassandra’s gone.”

He exhaled long and deep. God, it felt good to tell the truth, to say the words that had festered in his heart for the last two years.

Rose sat back in the chair. She stared at the crackling flames while cradling her glass between her hands. Was she shocked by what he’d just said? Was it right to feel relief over his wife’s death?

“Jacob said his mother always left when a letter arrived. He must have been five when this occurred.”

Christian brushed his hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “It makes me sick to my stomach to think he understood some of what went on.” How did a child so young learn to manipulate events?

“Some say children are extremely perceptive.” Without warning, she stood and walked over to the window, placing her empty glass on the silver tray as she passed. She looked out at the woods in the distance. “There is something I want to ask you.” She paused briefly. “It’s dark, and yet you’ve not drawn the curtains. Why?”

That was not the question that troubled her.

He took a moment to answer. “Perhaps I need to see what’s happening outside.”

She swung around and raised a challenging brow. “You’re not telling me the whole truth.”

This woman could see into his soul, could read his thoughts.

“What more do you want me to say?”