Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(85)

“I do understand. And yes, I should have realized, or at least considered.”

Her eyes rose again to his, her hands remaining tightly fisted. “Do you know, he didn’t want to marry me when he came back. He asked me to beg off. He would never have shamed me by calling it off himself, and so he tried to get me to. I was hurt, but I was sure it was simply that he did not want to burden me with a crippled husband. But I loved him and did not care.”

“And so you held him to his promise.”

“Yes, I was sure it was the right thing—for both of us.” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “And even now, I believe that it was. I loved him and he loved me. We might not have had the marriage that I imagined as a girl, but it was still a good one.”

He reached out and took one of her hands, easing it open, massaging the palm with his thumbs. “You are right that he did love you. Anyone who looked at him could see it. He often told me that you were the best of wives.”

“And he the best of husbands.” She attempted a smile, but did not quite manage it.

“So what of Ruby’s?” He did not like to ask, but sensed it would not be any easier later.

“Ruby’s?”

“Madame Rouge’s. Now tell me of Brookingston.”

He heard her swallow. “I do not have the full answer. I learned after about six months of marriage that he was visiting Madame’s.”

He raised a brow in question.

“I had him followed. I wished to know where he went when he left me at night—and in the afternoon. I did not believe he went to his club. And, of course, he did not. I tried to speak to him about it once, but he changed the subject. I tried again and he stomped from the room—not an easy feat for a man with one leg. I did not try again, but I was not ready to give up. I sent a note to Madame Rouge. She agreed to meet with me, but would tell me nothing except that I should stop asking my husband questions, that there were things he did not wish me to know. She tried to assure me that it had nothing to do with me, that my husband simply had special needs. I left her and never asked him again, but it did cast a pall upon aspects of my marriage.”

“I can only imagine.”

Her fingers clenched his tight. “You know most of the rest. When I decided I wished to remarry, I went to Madame again; I did not know where else to turn. Despite our difficulties I would never have shamed my husband by letting anyone know of his problem, his failure. I wish that you did not know now.”

“But I do.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Did you ever learn more of what his problem was?” It was not his business, but he could not help but ask.

Her eyes dropped to her lap, focused on those clenched fingers. “Madame told me some. She told me that he could not come and that he needed strong sensation, perhaps even pain, in order to feel anything. I did not ask further and she did not tell me. I should not even have told you this much—it was his private business. However, I know that we need honesty between us, and so I have talked of it this one time.”

Brookingston had needed pain in order to feel. Swanston did not know exactly what that meant, but he could guess. It was no wonder the man had gone to Ruby’s. He raised his head and looked at his wife. She was even paler and more worn than when she had first entered the room. “We will not talk of it again, unless you wish. I do thank you for sharing it with me. It helps me to understand.”

“You are welcome.” Her head dropped and she looked exhausted, both by her words and the lack of sleep last evening.

“Do you wish to ask me a question now or should we put it off? Perhaps you should retire to your chamber and rest.” He brought her hand to his lips and laid a soft kiss upon it.

She moved it up to stroke his cheek. “No, I will ask.”

“Yes?”

She sat up straight, her hands slipping from him, although her leg still moved restlessly against his. “Tell me why you do not like your family? I know you care for them—handle their affairs—but I do not believe that you like them. Why not?”





Chapter Twenty-five





Louisa could see the surprise upon his face. That had not been the question he expected. He had probably thought she would ask something about Charles, about Ruby’s—but this question seemed more central to who he was.

His lips tightened, and the edges grew white. “I do not dislike my family.”

Oh, this was going to be more difficult than she had anticipated.

“Then how do you feel about them?”

He did not answer her. Instead he looked away, staring at the portrait of a blond woman over the fireplace. “She resembles Bliss. Your mother?” she asked.

“Yes. She died when my youngest sister was born.”

“I am sorry.” And she truly was. She could not imagine having grown up without her own mother.

He kept his eyes on the portrait. “It did not change my life much. The governesses and tutors raised me. Even before her death my mother was not responsible for my care.”

“I do not believe that.”

“I can assure you it is true.”

Sliding off the desk, she eased toward him until her legs met the front of his chair. “Is it really that simple? Somehow I do not believe that it is.”