She buried her head against him as if to hide from the old memories. Did she even realize the man who tormented her in the present held her safe against old ghosts? Did she guess how his heart contracted with pity and wonder when she turned to him in her extremity?
“He attacked you,” Kylemore said, sickened.
“Yes. I couldn’t fight him off.” Her husky voice was muffled in his chest. “I screamed for help, but no one came. He ripped at my clothes and he punched me. I fought, but he was bigger and stronger. He knocked me to the floor. As I fell, I hit my head. When I could see again, he was…he was on top of me and he was trying…he was trying—”
“He raped you.” How could he bear to hear any more?
“No,” she said unsteadily, raising her head and looking up at him. Her eyes shimmered in her pale face. “No, he didn’t rape me. Sir Eldreth Morse was a guest in the house. He heard the screaming and he came in before…”
She sucked in a shaky breath before she went on. “He pulled John away from me and refused to listen when the cur tried to blame me for what happened. It must have been clear he’d forced me—I was bleeding where he’d hit me.”
“So Eldreth rescued you only to debauch you himself,” Kylemore said austerely.
Why the hell was he so angry? He hadn’t behaved any better when faced with the temptation this one woman presented. The brutal reality was that he and John Norton were brothers under the skin. Kylemore might never have forced himself on the servants—he’d never had to—but his treatment of his mistress shone in no kindlier light.
“No, you misunderstand. Sir Eldreth helped me,” she said vehemently. “He was kind. He told Sir Charles about John. It wasn’t his fault I lost my position.”
“They dismissed you for the crime of attracting their son’s notice.”
“They believed John rather than Eldreth. They shouldn’t have. I wasn’t the first servant girl who took his fancy, and I certainly wasn’t the last—or the most unfortunate. I realize now he was a man who liked to hurt women. Sir Eldreth saved me from all that.”
“Christ,” Kylemore muttered under his breath.
Roughly, he tore himself from her arms and left the bed. The violence in his soul threatened to erupt. He needed to regain control before he shattered under the storm of emotions buffeting him. Guilt. Sorrow. Anger. Unwilling empathy for someone who had a past as tortured as his own.
Continuing to swear, he strode across the room and flung the curtains wide with a loud rattle. It was still dark outside. But not nearly so dark as the raging tumult within him.
With shaking fingers, he fastened the breeches he hadn’t even bothered to remove before he’d taken her. The air was cold on his bare shoulders as he glared out the window.
“Kylemore?” she asked in bewilderment from the bed.
“Eldreth saved you for a life of vice and degradation,” he said with difficulty, scowling through the bars at the mountains outlined against the night sky.
“It was better than going on the streets,” she returned with equal heat. “Which is where I’d have ended up. And what would have happened to Ben and Maria then?”
God help her, God help him, she was right. His hands crushed the rich brocade of the drapes. She’d begun her story to divert him from his nightmare. Little did she know that what she described created its own nightmares.
This was a confession, but a confession made to a priest cast into hell for his own vile sins.
“Sir Eldreth found me in the village. When he saw my destitution and that I had the little ones to look after, he asked me to be his mistress.”
“And you said yes,” Kylemore said bitterly.
Mixed in with his other corrosive reactions, jealousy gnawed like acid in his gut. Jealousy over the elderly baronet’s physical possession of her, but even more over the affection in her voice when she spoke of him. She still admired, respected, liked Sir Eldreth.
Had she loved him?
Why did the question even arise? Love wasn’t part of any bargain he’d ever made with Soraya. Or Verity.
“It wasn’t what I wanted,” she retorted, clearly stung, although he hadn’t implied she’d sold herself gladly. “He said he’d support Maria and Ben. He told me I could use my advantages. Or else allow myself to become their victim.”
Kylemore turned away from the view to light a candle, and only then did he look at her. She braced herself high against the pillows, and her eyes were cloudy with turmoil.
“He told you men would always want you.” He heard the cynicism in his voice.
“That’s a crude approximation,” she snapped. “He offered me shelter and security. Luxury. A world I’d never known. A chance to learn and experience and develop.”
“In return for which he took your innocence.”