My Lord Vampire (Immortal Rogues #1)(50)

“It cannot be so bad, Simone.”

“Oh yes. It is very, very bad.”

“Tell me, Simone,” he urged softly.

Taking a deep breath, Simone slowly turned. Meeting his steady gaze was perhaps the hardest thing she had ever done. She could not bear to think that the esteem he held her in was about to be destroyed. Perhaps forever.

“I am not Simone.”

Not surprisingly he regarded her with wary puzzlement. “What?”

“I am Sally Jenkins.” The words threatened to stick in her throat and she balled her hands at her sides to keep herself from breaking down completely. “Simone was my half sister, although she would never have acknowledged our connection. I was a bastard, you see.”

Oddly there was none of the shock she had expected to see upon his handsome countenance as he gave a slow nod of his head.

“Your father?”

“Lord Hadwell of Devonshire.”

“And your mother?”

“A mere governess of Simone’s. She died when I was born.”

Without warning his hand reached up to lightly touch her near-white cheek.

“I am sorry.”

His obvious sympathy when she had expected anger and recrimination was nearly her undoing and she was forced to bat back the threatening tears.

“It was not so bad while my father lived. He insisted that I be given a home with him and even a measure of schooling with Simone’s new governess.”

He grimaced as he accurately surmised how her presence in the Hadwell home had been received by Lady Hadwell.

“Which no doubt did nothing to endear you to his wife or daughter.”

She could not prevent her shudder at the memory of those wretched years she had spent at the mercy of Lady Hadwell and Simone. No words could express just how evil and vindictive they had been.

“They hated me,” she at last said with simple honesty. “Lady Hadwell called me a disgraceful slut and Simone did everything possible to make my life a misery. Even the servants thought my presence an embarrassment to the household. Only my father ever showed me a hint of kindness.”

The fingers cupped her cheek. “My poor dear.”

Her eyes darkened as she was forced back to those days she had hoped never to recall.

“It only became worse once my father died. I was commanded to become Simone’s maid.”

His features hardened with anger. “I suppose they hoped to humiliate you.”

“Yes.” She gave a humorless laugh. They had more than humiliated her. They had stolen every hope she had harbored for a future untainted by their spite. “And when Simone wed Lord Gilbert I was taken to that horrid house where I was not allowed to speak to anyone but my sister.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Why did you remain?”

“I had no choice. Simone ensured none of the other servants would help me. And the few occasions I did attempt to flee she made certain I was properly punished.”

“What did she do?”

Simone paused. Never before had she revealed what she had endured at her sister’s hands. It was astonishingly difficult to force the words past her stiff lips.

“She beat me,” she at last managed to admit in harsh tones. “Of course, she beat me for every mistake I made, whether they were real or imagined. But the last occasion ... an infection set in and I nearly died. In truth, I prayed to die.”

His fingers tightened upon her cheek as his gaze darkened to a smoldering ebony.

“Would Lord Gilbert not come to your aid?”

“He was past eighty when they wed and he rarely left his chambers. The only reason Simone wed him was because he was extraordinarily wealthy.”

“And close to death?”

“Precisely.” Simone’s stomach clenched as she recalled her sister’s callous anger when the elderly gentleman continued to cling to life day after day. An anger that she regularly vented on her hapless sister. “She hated living in isolation at the estate and less than six months after his funeral she was packed and prepared to travel to London. She was not about to waste an entire year on mourning a gentleman she barely tolerated.”

“And you came with her?”

“Yes, she was determined that I would witness her grand debut.”

“What happened?”

Simone again hesitated. The trip to London was still a vague fog in her mind. Perhaps because she had no desire to truly ponder what had led to her outrageous charade. Or the undoubted sins that lay heavy on her soul.

She unconsciously wet her dry lips, intensely aware of the dark gaze that watched her every expression.

“We had been upon the road for two days when we were set upon by bandits. They had followed us from the posting inn where we had stayed the night before.”

He sucked in a sharp breath at her words. “You were injured?”

“I suffered a blow to the head that knocked me unconscious when we attempted to flee the villains and the carriage overturned in a ditch. When I awoke ...” Her words broke off and she abruptly buried her face in her hands.

All the horror she had felt when she had managed to drag herself from the carriage rushed back like a physical blow. How many nights had she lain awake recalling the bloody bodies that had been scattered across the road? Even now, months later, it did not seem quite real. More like a persistent nightmare that would not be dismissed.