The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(23)

“But you’ll have to tell me eventually. I mean, after what we… what just happened…” She trailed off at the harsh set of his features.

“I’ve acted unforgivably. Again.” He pushed back from her, dragged a hand through his hair. “It was wrong, taking advantage of you as I did—”

“You told me I could trust you!” She jumped off the table, shoved her skirts into place. Panic hammered in her chest. Please, please, please don’t be like all the rest. “Aren’t you… aren’t you going to do the honorable thing?”

Their gazes held, and her stomach plunged.

“Offering you marriage would not be the honorable thing to do,” he said quietly. “Other than money, I have nothing to offer you. I don’t have a title, and I don’t come from a distinguished family—or a family of any sort, really—and my reputation… it’s far from respectable.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered, “about any of those things.”

“But you do. Or you will, once you find yourself without the privileges of your world. At the moment, you’re just blinded by desire—damn me to hell.” He swore with startling fluency, his expression ravaged. “I deserve to be strung up for introducing you to such things—”

“Then why did you?” she cried. “It’s because you think I’m a hussy, isn’t it? Because I’m a tart who is so unworthy and low that even some… some nobody can dally with me and walk away without consequences!”

“That’s not true. Like I said before, you’re an angel, but I’m not worthy—”

“It’s not me, it’s you?” Rage entered the fray. “If you’re going to lie, at least have the grace to do it with a modicum of originality.”

“I’m not lying,” he said tersely.

“Just answer one question: are you, or aren’t you going to marry me?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “For your sake, I cannot.”

“Then the devil take you!” Snatching up her bonnet, she marched to the exit. She heard him say her name an instant before she slammed the door behind her.





Chapter Eight


Past



“You’re… you’re really leaving, Andrew?”

Primrose stood in the doorway of his shabby room in yet another shabby inn. In one hand, she gripped the rag doll he’d bought her months ago at the fair. She and the doll were rarely parted, and both were bedraggled from weeks on the flit. Primrose’s blond hair hung in limp, unwashed plaits, the doll’s yarn locks similarly dulled by dirt. Threads unraveled from both of them.

The trembling in Primrose’s voice, coupled with the brightness of her eyes, constricted his chest. But he’d made his decision; after the fight with Kitty last night, there was no turning back.

“It’s for the best,” he said.

He continued packing his possessions into a battered valise. There wasn’t much. Not after the fiasco of Kitty’s plan had taken the rest of his savings and nearly both their lives. As it turned out, those who dealt in pleasure in the countryside were as lethal as their city counterparts. The local brothel owners had made it clear that no upstart bawd from London was going to poach on their territory.

Now, after months of selling himself to countrified matrons and traveling ladies in search of a night’s companionship, he had no money and no prospects.

Primrose came closer. “But why?”

Because I’m a whore. I can’t take care of you. I can barely take care of myself.

“Kitty and I are parting ways,” he said.

“Because of me?”

Unable to bear the pain shimmering in her wide eyes, he crouched. Tipped her little chin up. “No, little chick. It is a grown-up matter that has naught to do with you.”

“Kitty says I’m too…”—her cherubic features tensed in concentration—“’spensive.”

The ache in his chest intensified into a burn. Parting with Kitty wasn’t easy—their history was a long and knotty rope—but leaving Primrose to an uncertain fate was the most difficult thing he’d ever done. This was the demon he wrestled with. The one that crawled beneath his skin by day and injected venom into his dreams by night. The one that had delayed the inevitable dissolution of his partnership with Kitty.

“It’s not you, Primrose,” he said firmly.

She grabbed his hand just as he was pulling back. “Then take me with you. Please. I don’t want to stay with Kitty; I want to go with you!”

Her plea lashed him like a cat-o’-nine-tails. He stood abruptly. “I can’t take you.”

“Wh-why?”

“Because… I just can’t.”

If you take Primrose, I’ll send the constables after you. Kitty’s enraged vow rang in his head. Imagine what that will look like—a male whore stealing a young girl. You’ll be strung up by the mob before they get you to the gallows. I’m her guardian, and I’ve got the papers to prove it. I decide her fate—not you. If you don’t like the fact that I’m going to find her a nice home with some rich nobs, then take your bloody arse off. I don’t give a damn. But just try to take Primrose—and I’ll guarantee that’s the last thing you do.