“My father was the younger son to the Baron of Baderness and apparently the black sheep of the family. When he married my mother, they left for London. I don’t know how they died but when they did, no one came looking for me.”
She gasped, her insides clenching and her hand rested on his chest. “I was four and I knew that my father was the son of the baron. I’m not sure how. But I told the woman who ran the orphanage so and she contacted my family. They still didn’t come.” He swallowed. “I learned later, she’d demanded money and they thought it some sort of swindle. She was so angry that she tossed me out of the home.”
“Bad,” she whispered, curling her fingers into his chest. Her own insides twisted and her stomach gave a heave thinking of a little boy tossed out on the streets all alone.
“My given name is Benjamin,” he whispered, his eyes meeting hers. “My mother called me Ben.”
“Ben.” Her other hand came up to cup his cheek. “What happened?”
“I slept in doorways, ran errands for a few pennies for food, survived by cunning and wit, I suppose until I was discovered by Monsieur LaFleur to join his fighting club. I was ten when I began training.”
Her throat had nearly closed as she stared up at him, tears stinging in her eyes. All the scars, the crooked nose. He’d been a fighter.
He looked down at her. “I was nineteen when I learned that I was the next male heir to the title.” He shook his head. “I may look like a lord now, love. But make no mistake, I’m a street urchin through and through.”
r /> Grace stilled. What was he explaining to her precisely? That he wasn’t a real lord? Was this an explanation of sorts? But why would he reject her? He had the title and as far as she could tell, he was the most gentlemanly man she knew. “But you’re the rightful heir, that was never a question and…”
“I grew up thinking I was trash. Dropped and forgotten, unloved and unwanted even by my own family.” His face spasmed, pain in every line.
Grace didn’t answer at first. She didn’t know what to say. She lifted her head from his arm, looking into his dark eyes. “You grew up strong. I don’t blame you if you wish for a different childhood. What you went through is terrible. But it’s shaped you into a man who can single-handedly rescue a woman from a runaway carriage while being held captive by multiple villains.”
His eyebrows rose, the deep lines in his face easing. “Abernath wasn’t a real villain.”
Grace shrugged. “You might have me there. She had sores all over her palms and she talked as though she were mad.”
Ben drew her head down to the crook of his neck. “That actually frightens me more. I’m so glad you’re here and safe.”
“I’m glad too,” she answered, drawing in his sandalwood scent. There were moments when she felt closer to this man then any other person in England. But then she remembered. This conversation had begun because he’d rejected her last night. She eased out of his grasp. “I’m sure you’re eager to return me home.”
He searched her face, his hand coming to cup her cheek again. “I’ve never told anyone that story before. I’m mean, I’ve mentioned a few pieces but—”
His confession pulled at her heart. “Your secret is safe with me,” she answered. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re worthier than most to carry the title of lord.” She made to roll away and get out the bed but his hands held her firm.
“Do you really mean that?” he asked, his face pitted in deep lines once again as his fingers dug into her back. He held her now like he never wanted her to go. Which she knew wasn’t true. They did nothing but argue and he’d rejected her just a few hours ago. He didn’t want her and she’d be a fool to think he did.
* * *
Bad knew that he should let her go. But her words were the balm he hadn’t realized he’d needed. Slowly, carefully, she reached up, tracing several of the scars that pitted his face. “Every word,” she answered, giving him a small smile. “I’m not sure where I’d be right this very moment without you but I am forever in your debt.”
Debt? The word echoed about his brain as he released her and she rose from the bed. He watched her as she sat up, stretched, her back elongating in the prettiest way, her arms tossed over her head.
He knew exactly what he’d do with a man who owed him a debt. He’d collect. And what he wanted from Grace…well, despite his rejection last night, he knew exactly the way he’d like to collect.
His muscles tightened. He wasn’t just referring to sex. Though that was most certainly part of it. He thought back to the kisses they’d shared, she’d been so eager and pliant underneath him. But a man did not dally with a woman like Grace without understanding the full measure of consequences.
She began dressing and he lay his head down, unabashedly watching her. Her movements were nimble and filled with a natural grace that made him ache to touch her again. He should look away. It was the polite thing to do, but he didn’t want to and he was, after all, still a street urchin at heart, title or no.
Damn, he wanted to touch her. Pull her back into the bed and feel her body underneath his. His fingers dug into the blankets as she reached behind her to tighten her own corset strings. He should offer to help but he’d never complete the job. He’d end up stripping every piece of clothing from her body and kissing her from the tip of her toes all the way to her… He tried to control his errant thoughts.
“How long will it take us to get back?” She turned back to look at him and he tried to make his face a blank mask.
“Seven hours. Maybe eight unless the weather changes.” He sat up. He’d never in his life wanted to see rain more. How nice would it be to hold her in his arms another night?
She turned back to him again. “Does my family know I’m safe?”
Her family? He drew in a sharp breath. How had he not thought of her family until now? “I sent a message to Vice. He and Ada are also following us but I’d guess they were travelling at half the speed we were. Once he receives the message, he’ll send word to your parents.”
Grace gave a stiff nod as she picked up her crumpled dress. “Fitting that this is what I’ll wear back into London.”