Winning a Lady's Heart (Danby #1)(16)

Alexandra, who counted everything from steps to ticks on a clock, lost track of time. All she knew was in that moment, in his arms, the ache of betrayal dissipated into a corner of make-believe, and she felt blessedly alive. Joyous.

It was Nathan who broke the kiss. Not in a forceful way, but rather with a gentle separation sealed with a kiss on her forehead.

Alexandra’s breath came in quick, little spurts that marked the air with the whisper of white breaths meeting cold air.

“I will always love you,” he whispered.

She pulled back and pinned him with an intent stare. “You come to me insisting that you love me. You claim you didn’t fill my ears with empty platitudes. Yet you speak of goodbye? You owe me answers, Nathan. You owe me the truth.”





You owe me the truth.

Yes, he did owe her the truth. But at what cost? What kind of bastard would he be if he admitted the reason for his betrayal? And after receiving the Duke of Danby’s blessings, he’d committed himself to confessing every ugly aspect of it. Even if it would hurt her.

Yet now, with her seated before him, the idea of causing her any further pain made it hard for him to speak.

Unable to meet her accusatory stare, he looked out at the snow-laden fields. “More than a week ago, I visited your father at his club. I requested a private audience with him.” Nathan still remembered the humiliation of that audience. He’d foolishly believed the Marquess of Tewkesbury had been amiable to his request. “I showed up at your father’s townhouse and asked him for your hand.” Alexandra gasped and he resisted the urge to look at her.

“I did not know,” she whispered behind him, the words almost booming in the silence of the snow.

He shook his head and laughed. Even to his ears the sound came out rusty and bitter. “No, I don’t imagine you would have. He…” Nathan drew in a deep fortifying breath. “He spoke to me at some length about my father. He said he would be damned if he ever saw his daughter wed to the whoreson of a bastard.”

“No,” Alexandra bit out.

Nathan didn’t know if she was protesting the truth of those words or whether that single word was more a plea. He continued. “The marquess insisted if I truly loved you as I claimed, that I would free you to make a match with a gentleman worthy of you. I told him to go to the devil, insisted that you would never believe I would betray you.”

“So why did you go along with his scheming?” she whispered.

Her question was latent with the sting of betrayal. If it were any other person before him, he’d manage one of those affected smiles he adopted for the ton’s benefit, the same smile that allowed him to disregard the condescension and judgment he faced as the son of one of England’s most disreputable lords. Except his predecessor, a man he didn’t think of as father, had been worse than disreputable. He’d been an unfaithful bastard, a whoremonger.

“I never told you about the day my mother died.”

My beautiful, patient Alex. She stood there so silent. So silent. Only he knew her as well as he knew himself, and just knew she was counting something. Mayhap she was counting the falling snowflakes or the seconds passing, all to exercise restraint. It was just one of the many things he loved about her. Alex was not impulsive. She was contemplative and thoughtful in ways most members of society were not. In spite of the curiosity lighting her eyes, she was mindful of his feelings.

“No, you never did tell me about your mother, Nathan.”

Nathan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the crisp winter air, searching deep within himself for the courage to continue.



Alexandra waited for Nathan to speak.

When Nathan had begun courting Alexandra, her father had been more than vociferous in his disapproval. He’d even gone so far as to forbid his daughter from attending any of the same functions Nathan was rumored to be attending.

As Danby’s granddaughter, she’d never wanted for suitors. What she had lacked was serious suitors—suitors who had a genuine desire to be with her, who found her amusing, who didn’t mind that she was slightly plump and prone to awkward stretches of silence. That was until Nathan. Only her mother had seen the pain the mandated separation had caused Alexandra.

It had been her mother who’d spoken on her behalf and insisted Nathan be allowed to pay court to Alexandra. Surprisingly, Father had capitulated. But whenever he’d seen her, which wasn’t often, he’d always made vague references about the scandalous death of Lady Pembroke.

She’d always ignored him or made her pardons from the room. She had not wanted to learn such an intimate part about Nathan from anyone but Nathan himself.

“My mother was desperately in love with my father. The poor, foolish woman. I knew her for ten years, and each year her happiness grew dimmer and dimmer until she was a shell of the woman who’d held me as a child.”

Her heart ached at the thought of Nathan as a sad, forgotten little boy. She imagined he’d have been a solemn young fellow. Poor Nathan. And his poor mother. Even unfinished, she recognized the story was a tragic one.

“What happened to her?”

Nathan dragged a hand through his hair, sending flakes flying to join the others slipping from the sky. “My mother was with child. In spite of her delicate condition and my presence in the house, my father had guests.” The way he said the word guests indicated he did not speak of respectable members of the ton. “The revelry in the ballroom was so loud it reached above stairs. I wandered out and found my mother. She was winding her way through the house, towards the merriment.” He stared out at the thick winter sky. “I followed her and watched as she opened the ballroom doors. What she saw the men and women…” His voice trailed off. “I cannot even speak of what they were doing. My mother ran. She didn’t even hear when I called to her. I saw her race up the stairs, but her foot caught in her gown.”