“That I am, Lady Verity.”
“How did an earl end up with a reputation as one of London’s fiercest fighters? It is most unusual.” At his silence she continued, “If you do not mind my curiosity?”
He’d done what he had to do to save his family: the tenant workers of his land whom he had grown up with, the servants of the house who had pooled their monies together to buy him books, boots in winter, because his father had not given a damn. When he’d inherited the lands and four estates, there hadn’t been money to invest in the latest farming techniques and equipment. Many had stood to lose their livelihood and homes they had lived in for years.
“It had been necessary.”
“Your earldom was impoverished?”
“My father died seven years ago when I was one and twenty. Upon claiming my inheritance, the lawyers informed me my coffers were empty, and a few of the estates heavily burdened by debts and mortgages.”
“That must have been terrible,” she murmured sympathetically. “Were you abroad?”
“No. I was living in the village, working the fields along with the tenant farmers.”
Her lips parted in shock. “I beg your pardon?”
James felt a similar sense of disbelief. He did not share his past with anyone, knowing theton’spropensity for gossip and cruel speculations into one’s life. He cleared his throat. “You have shared a part of yourself with me, Lady Verity. You are trusting me with your secrets now, and for that reason…for that reason I too will share some of my past. Since I’ve never shared my history with anyone else, I will lay blame at your door if I hear this circulating among the masses.”
Her eyes widened, and her fingers dug into the edges of the padded seat. “I do not gossip, my lord,” she said softly. “I daresay you are not obliged to share.”
James arched a brow and remained quiet.
She tapped her left foot several times, and shifted as if the seats were uncomfortable, then folded her arms across her middle. With a harrumph she said, “Oh, do continue!”
He laughed, impressed that her curiosity had held itself back for at least ten seconds. She glared at him with a perturbed furrow between her brows.
“My father neglected his duty, unable to rise to the occasion because he had been so lost in his grief,” he said gruffly. “He loved my mother more than life itself, and I killed her.”
Lady Verity stiffened but did not interrupt.
“I was a big, ugly brute who took her life during childbirth. My father never forgave me for that, so not only were the estates neglected, but so was I.” James’s earliest memories were of his father screaming to his nurse to take James from his sight. He’d been born too big. And as a brute he should work the fields. It had been unorthodox, shameful, but the old earl had forced his son to work the land alongside his tenant farmers. He’d denied him tutors, and the fine education the men of his line shouldhave been given. He’d hidden him in the country along with his pain and his son’s existence. Society knew there had been an heir, but they’d never met him. “I had no tutors or governesses. I was not sent to Eton or Oxford. I spent most of my life in the village of Cressingham. I was the ugly brute who took everything my father cherished, and he treated me like one.”
Her eyes were red and it was evident to him she struggled with tears. James frowned, for he had not told her of any of the sufferings he had waded through—the vicious fights with the older boys, the pain of never knowing his mother, even how she looked, the hunger to hear a comforting word from his father always denied. “You are far too softhearted,” he muttered.
She scowled at him. “I do not believe in speaking ill of the dead, but your father was an ass. My Aunt Jacintha died in childbirth several years ago, and her babe was exceedingly small. I believe it happens and it was terrible of him to blame you when he should have loved you endlessly because you were a part of her.”
James smiled. “Thank you.”
They stared at each other for several moments before she glanced away. He was curious about the blush reddening her cheeks and wondered what lingered within that mind of hers.
“You speak quite well for a man who grew up without formal education.”
“My solace was found in books and from their pages my mind was edified. The village raised me. The servants raised me. I learned French from the village’s dressmaker. They took their wages, pooled them together and bought me books and sweet treats. It was at their tables I enjoyed dinners and Christmas. It was at their homes I learned about family and love. So, when they needed me, I fought for them.” And now his village and earldom were one of the most prosperous. Society would not bring him to shame for how he had attained his wealth.
A soft smile lit her face. “You are incredible, my lord. It must have been scary to be presented at court.”
“I shook in my boots and bumbled in my speech,” he said with a rueful smile. “But at the end, all was well.”
The carriage slowed, and she shifted the small curtain by the windows. “We are in St. James,” she said with a curious look his way.
“Yes.”
“And we are slowing for the queue.”
“Yes.”
“Should we—”
