He squeezed her hand. “Let me finish. After a while and a few miscarriages, my father must have realized that my mother would not produce living children. I imagine he considered abandoning her, but it was not possible. After all, my mother had done nothing wrong. So, he tracked down Sarah Hamilton, discovered her dead, and followed the line all the way to the orphanage where my brother and I lived. It was a terrible place. I was about seven years old then, old enough to understand that my younger brother was starving to death. Anthony’s memories of all this are very foggy, but I recall how Father arrived. At the time, I thought he was a knight in shining armor, coming to rescue us. I did not learn his true nature until later. At any rate, he scooped us up and took us away. I remember him telling us that we must forget everything in our lives up to this moment, because we were now Lovells, not Hamiltons. Of course, we had different names. I spent the first seven years of my life as John Hamilton, while Anthony was Jack Hamilton. Our father told us that we were to be Tristan and Anthony, and if we ever breathed a word of where we had come from, or implied that we were not Dorothea’s children, he would drown us in the Thames. I believed him.”
Madeline took a moment to gather herself.
“But… but how could it be done?” She stammered. “You were not babies; you were seven and four years old! And Dorothea—oh, how did she react?”
Tristan nodded slowly. “It was managed well. I will give my father that credit. My mother—that is, the woman I now call mother—had retreated to the countryside years ago, to escape her humiliation and misery at my father’s hands. She had hardlyany servants, as Father kept her in poverty, and she kept no company. We bribed the servants, three of them—all now dead, and took the secret to their graves—and told thetonthat Mother had taken her babies to the countryside for quiet rearing, only showing us to select friends. Since everybody wanted to be consideredselect friendsof the Duke and Duchess of Tolford, stories of people who had ‘seen’ us abounded. My father’s story was never questioned. We grew up, accepted as the sons of the Duke of Tolford. Anthony never really remembered much of his life before that, as I said. My memories are only of the orphanage, with a few flashes of my real mother. She never loved us and kept us only to secure our father’s affection. No, Dorothea is my real mother, beyond a doubt.”
“How did she react when you came?” Madeline whispered.
Tristan was silent for a moment. “You can imagine her humiliation, can’t you? She was angry, I’m sure, not that my father cared. But she told me that the moment she set eyes on us, she felt as though we were destined to be hers. I remember…” He paused, chuckling, “I remember how she told us that we must call her Mother whenever we were ready to do so. Anthony was ready at once, but I took a little longer. But Mother worked hard to educate us, to love us, to make us happy. Our father took no more interest in us until we grew to be men, by which time I’d already learned that he was a vile man. I suppose my upbringing made me a callous sort of rake, whereas it made Anthony a soft, kind man who wanted romance and a good, loving marriage. I am glad he got that in the end.”
Silence opened up between them. Madeline’s mind ticked through everything he had said, reviewing it.
“So, being born out of wedlock, you might not have become a duke at all?”
Tristan nodded. “To be clear, my cousin James wasnotnext in the line of succession. I have no idea who it was. Some fellow abroad was, I think. But he began to think that I had taken the place that should have been his. I never thought there was any trouble at all; I thought he loved me. But there it is, Madeline. There is the nasty truth all laid out in front of you, for you to do as you like with.”
She jumped to her feet, pacing up and down the room. He leaned back, watching her.
“Does it concern you? I had rather thought that you would care little about lineage. I am a bastard, plain and simple.”
Madeline bit her lip. “In more ways than one.”
He narrowed his eyes, leaning back at her. “Why, I do believe that is an insult, my dear duchess.”
“It is not your lineage I care about. Your past is simply that—the past—your future is what concerns me.”
“And what is it about my future that concerns you?”
She spread out her hands. “What doyouthink? Whatisour future together? Do I have a place in your world? I have a place in your… in your heart? I thought you had kept a mistress, and Isuspect that prospect upset me more than anything. This feels… well, it feels like a relief.”
“And yet you’re still distressed. About our future.”
“Well, yes! We had agreed to lead separate lives, and with so many secrets, we couldn’t have a real marriage. But… but I don’t want to honor our deal anymore, Tristan. I want you. All of you. So you must be honest with me. I still don’t understand why you are so keen to spend time with me…to claim me. But if it’s just the challenge you’re after, tell me now. Because my heart won’t be able to take it… and I can’t think of any other reason why somebody like you could ever have wanted somebody like me,” Madeline murmured the last part, brow knitting.
He leaned forward, brushing back a stray lock of hair, and cupped her cheek.
“Let me be plain, Madeline,” he said softly. “I love you. I believe I began falling in love with you from the moment you first recited that poem. I could have let Juliana and James go on with their silly, pathetic lives without a twinge of conscience if they had not tried to harm you. Believe me, my love, had they hurt you any more than they already did, I would have killed them.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She met his gaze squarely, feeling the familiar flutter of desire in her chest.
“You love me?” she whispered.
He nodded, swallowing. “I have made a terrible mess of our marriage. I have been brusque, even unkind. I have been thoughtless. I have hidden things I ought to have made clear to you. But one thing I have never done, Madeline, is to betray you. Not with Juliana Bolt, not with anyone. I beg you to believe me.”
“I do,” Madeline responded instantly, not even needing to hesitate for a moment. “I do believe you, Tristan.”
Relief and joy lit up on his face. He leaned forward, fitting his lips to hers.
The kiss began sweetly, almost chastely. Madeline tasted the salt of her own tears, still lingering on her lips, and reminded herself that there was no more need for tears. They broke apart, and she gasped for breath.
“I want to be properly married, Tristan,” she whispered. “I want to belong toyou.”
Heat surged into his eyes. He reached up to cup her neck, and the drag of his fingers on her skin made her shiver.
“Are you sure, my love?”
“I have never been more sure of anything,” she promised, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
