The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

The dam holding her emotions at bay burst. Tears cascaded down her face and dripped from her chin.

Fabian stared at her, his eyes wide with shock. “You … you lost a child?” He covered his mouth with his hand.

She tried to speak, but a whimper escaped. The whimper became a sob. “I lost a daughter, Fabian. I lost the most beautiful—” Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor.

Fabian was at her side in seconds. Strong arms enveloped her. He pulled her into his lap and cradled her as the wail of a soul-deep loss echoed through the chamber.

She could not express her grief in front of Vane. Seeing pain and guilt flare in her brother’s eyes only made matters worse.

“Hush, love.” Fabian stroked her hair, kissed her forehead and rocked her gently back and forth. “Forgive me for pressing you on the subject, but know you do not have to suffer in silence.”

Lillian wrapped her arms around him so tightly she feared she might squeeze all the air from his lungs. Touching him should have felt awkward and new, yet it felt so comforting, so familiar. She buried her face in his neck. Just like everything else about him, the scent of his skin helped to ease her torment.

“You can tell me about Lord Martin when you’re ready,” he whispered. “It doesn’t have to be now.”

Whenever she thought about the scoundrel, about all that happened in Italy, inside she became a shivering wreck. Fabian now knew her darkest secret, and it had not altered his opinion of her. A part of her loved him for that. It was time to trust him, time to tell him everything.

Lillian sucked in a breath and looked up at her husband. “Let us sit by the fire and drink brandy.” That would banish the chill from her bones. “I shall tell you about Lord Martin, and of my daughter, Charlotte.”

Saying her name aloud validated her daughter’s existence. It confirmed she was real, the only good thing to come from a horrid nightmare.

Fabian kissed her forehead. “Only if you want to. Only if you feel able.”

“I do.”

Fabian helped her to her feet and guided her over to the chair. She sat and watched him dress quickly, stoke the fire and pour the drinks. Two glasses in hand, he returned to sit opposite.

“To friendship.” He offered her a glass and raised his in salute. “Life has not been kind but know you can trust me, Lilly.”

“To friendship.” Liquid fire trick

led down her throat as she took the first few sips. “Know that despite my reservations, I do not regret marrying you.”

He put his hand over his heart. “After the way I behaved, that is a compliment indeed.”

A nervous silence ensued.

He cradled his glass and stared at the dancing flames in the hearth.

“I won’t bore you with the minor details,” she finally found the courage to say. “Perhaps it will be easier just to relay the facts.”

He nodded but said nothing.

“Lord Martin paid me court for a month before he offered marriage. During that time, he convinced me of his affection, and I believed him to be a kind and generous gentleman.”

“And your brother approved of the match?”

She snorted. In Vane’s eyes, no one was good enough. “Not at first. He insisted upon checking Martin’s background. Other than a penchant for gambling, people held him in high regard.”

“Gambling? Surely that was enough to convince Vane the man lacked merit. It takes a weak man to squander three generations of hard-earned funds.”

“The debts were small, infrequent, paid on time.” A blush rose to her cheeks. Fabian was right. It was a warning sign they’d failed to take seriously. Yet another reason why Vane blamed himself. “As the wedding drew closer, he began acting strangely, demanding to know if I loved him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. And I couldn’t lie.” She’d been tactful, told him love blossomed over time. “I told him I cared for him and knew it would develop into something more.”

“I have never met Lord Martin, but he sounds like an insecure fop.”