A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

Genevieve sensed his roiling reactions. Pain, certainly. Anger. Curiosity avid as a fever.

Augusta’s lip quivered. It was the first weakness she’d displayed and Genevieve realized that she suffered too. “Please sit down. This isn’t easy. Especially with you looming over me like an ax about to fall.”

Genevieve waited for Richard to say that it wasn’t easy for him either. He remained silent. When he and Genevieve sat on the sofa, she drew his hand across her lap, holding hard to bolster his courage.

Augusta’s eyes faltered from her son’s face and she spoke in a low voice. Richard leaned forward as if striving to catch and keep every word. The need in his expression sliced at Genevieve’s heart.

“My parents were ambitious. They arranged my marriage to Lester Harmsworth when I was only seventeen.” Augusta paused. “I was already in love with a young lieutenant from a good family, but sadly, he wasn’t rich. We planned to run away together, but he was posted to India and my maid confessed our plans. In the end, I buckled to pressure and wed where I was bid.”

She stopped and glanced quickly at her son, as if expecting criticism. After a crackling silence, Augusta continued, her voice even lower. “I didn’t see my young lieutenant for five years. When we finally met again, he was a major with a fortune in prize money. He came to London while Sir Lester was in St. Petersburg.”

“So you broke your marriage vows,” Richard said softly, but with such bitterness that Genevieve flinched.

Augusta was as ashen as her son. “I was a wife in name only.”

“Because you didn’t love your husband?”

She shook her head. “No. Because Sir Lester was incapable of the marital act. In any true sense, Thomas Fraser was my husband.”

“Good God!” Richard’s hand clenched over Genevieve’s.

“Lady Harmsworth—” Genevieve protested, speaking for the first time in what felt like hours.

Augusta raised a trembling hand. “Please. I’ve waited almost thirty-four years to say this. I can’t stop now.” Her hand returned to fist in her lap until her knuckles gleamed white. “You know what love is like.”

It was an appeal for understanding. Genevieve wondered whether Richard could rise above his history to respond. However touching the circumstances leading to his birth, for years he’d paid for what this woman had done with a man to whom she wasn’t married.

“Yes, I do.” It was tacit acknowledgement that he couldn’t despise his mother for her sins. Genevieve loved him then more than she ever had. She blinked away tears.

His mother must have recognized his words as a concession too, because her anxiety faded, replaced by a grief that was no kinder for being over thirty years old. “We couldn’t stay away from each other. We had plans to elope to America and make a life together. He’d sell his commission, although a brilliant career beckoned.”

“Presumably he thought you were worth it,” Richard said with no hint of a sneer.

Augusta’s faint smile made her look very young and Genevieve had a glimpse of the girl Thomas Fraser had loved so desperately. “He said he did.” She stopped and visibly fought for control. “But he was committed to one more mission. France was in chaos. Thousands murdered. Robespierre mad with blood. They sent Thomas there in secret, but he was betrayed. I’ve never discovered the full truth. After all, I had no official standing in his life. I was merely his mistress.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. “His pregnant mistress. Just after Thomas left for France, I discovered that I carried his child.” She brushed the tear away. “You, my son.”

Augusta visibly gathered herself to finish the tragic tale. “Sir Lester returned from St. Petersburg to a fine baby boy. He had no hope of a child of his loins, so he accepted you as his heir. He loved you. I hope you remember that.”

Richard stared across the room, but Genevieve knew he sifted memories. “Yes, he was kind to me. I grieved when he died.”

Augus

ta’s mouth contracted. “I couldn’t save you from scandal. After all, everyone can count and no child grows in its mother’s womb for sixteen months. I can’t even blame you for hating me. After all, my sin fell on your innocent head. But when I heard that you were madly in love with your wife, I had to tell you and… and beg forgiveness.”

It was the first truly humble thing she’d said.

Another silence fell. One heavy with years of resentment and regret. Richard had much to blame his mother for and only an afternoon’s confession to place on the other side of the balance. Genevieve longed to hold him close, to tell him that none of this mattered compared to the wonderful man he was, to insist that whatever decision he made, she was on his side. But under Augusta’s tormented dark gaze, she stayed silent.

Richard kissed the hand he held. Then he released Genevieve and rose.

Genevieve’s muscles tightened until she trembled on the edge of the sofa. Dear heaven, did he mean to storm out? Augusta had cost him so much happiness, and he’d nurtured a lifetime of rancor.

He passed Genevieve the locket. She glanced at the tiny, exquisite painting and bit back a shocked gasp. If one disregarded the old-fashioned powdered wig, the man staring from the miniature was Richard. No wonder he’d been so moved to see it.

The tension between mother and son drew her gaze from Thomas Fraser’s handsome face. Augusta’s eyes were lowered as if she awaited condemnation. Richard still hadn’t moved. The disregarded tea table stretched between them like a thorny barrier.

Genevieve’s heart melted with compassion for Augusta. How could it not? But her main concern in this encounter remained Richard. How must he feel after today’s revelations?