"You allowed the wolves to devour her."

Dare's eyebrows narrowed to a frown. "That tells me little."

"You left her at the mercy of that beast. I found her…" The shopkeeper took a deep breath. "Miss Laurent had sent me to deliver a commission, and when I returned… Lord Ivers had just driven away." The woman glanced toward the back of the millinery where the stairs were. "He had violated her, my lord."

Air hissed sharply between Dare's teeth; his gut clenched as if a knife had been plunged into him.

With sudden brutal clarity he recalled the blood on Ivers's lip, an injury the earl had claimed was due to Julienne's preference for rough play.

Oh, God. His heart thundered while a wave of horror crashed through his mind.

"He forced himself upon her," the Grimble woman repeated, twisting the knife further. "You didn't know?"

"No…" Dare whispered, the word a raw rasp. "I never knew. Perhaps I should have."

"Aye, I think you should have. He was a beast, but you… She loved you, my lord, and you abandoned her."

Raising a hand to his head, Dare clutched at his hair. Understanding nearly brought him to his knees; the violent reality of it was paralyzing.

He had fled Kent that very afternoon, too intent on his own bleeding wounds to question the fate of the beautiful deceiver who had savaged his heart. He had kept away for years, forcibly attempting to shut out even the slightest thought of Julienne.

The shopkeeper merely stood there, not speaking, her silence eloquent with condemnation while Dare grappled with the enormity of his transgression.

"Why in God's name didn't she tell me?" he said after a time.

"I don't know, my lord. I wanted to go to you. I thought you would somehow protect her, even after… what Lord Ivers did to her. But she wouldn't let me. I think she must have been too ashamed." Miss Grimble's tone hardened. "That was not the worst of it, either. Lord Wolverton made certain her reputation was utterly destroyed by rumors of treason. No one would give her business any longer, and the scandal nearly killed her mother. Miss Laurent was forced to leave town. His lordship drove her away. And by then you were long gone."

Dare couldn't speak. There was nothing he could say, no apology he could make to excuse his ignorance or his actions.

Turning, he blindly made his way out to his carriage. Self-contempt stuck in his throat, hot and thick, as he fell back against the squabs of the landau.

Julienne had been assaulted-raped by that vile bastard-and he had walked away.

They were never lovers at all. She had only wanted him to believe it. But in God's name, why? Had Ivers threatened to hurt her? Forced her to support his claim? Dare's mind rebelled at the possibility. Surely Julienne knew he would have done everything in his power to keep her safe.

But he hadn't kept her safe. Instead he had failed her in the worst possible way.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Julienne had never betrayed him with Ivers. She had been faithful all along. But his own jealousy had blinded him, caused him to condemn her as deceiver.

Was that why she hadn't told him? Because she'd anticipated what his response would be? Or had she thought he wouldn't want her as his wife after she had been violated? Or was there another, more immediate reason? Had she been afraid he would call Ivers out? That he would kill the man?

Dare's fists clenched. He would have killed Ivers if he'd had the slightest inkling of the truth.

Rage gripped him in its power, along with an acrid shame. However unwittingly, he had let Julienne suffer alone the consequences of their passion. Abandoned her to the mercy of his grandfather's wrath and brutal scheming. The marquess apparently had hired Ivers to break up their betrothal by whatever vile means necessary.

What a stupid, blind, bloody fool he had been! He had known his grandfather could be a ruthless bastard. He just hadn't known how ruthless.

For a long while Dare sat there, rocked to his soul by a tempest of emotions-grief, raw fury, hatred, self-contempt. The truth burned too hot and fierce for anything else to penetrate his dazed stupor.

"My lord?"

The concerned voice finally registering, Dare raised his gaze. His coachman was looking over his shoulder at him, his expression troubled.

"Are you unwell, my lord? Should I drive you to a doctor?"

A doctor could never cure his malady, Dare thought with a bitter, mirthless laugh. "No, no doctor."

"Where do you wish to go then, my lord?"

Tags: Nicole Jordan Notorious Historical
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