She twisted at the band of silver. “When I’ve finished, you may not want to marry me anymore. But… it would be wrong to wed you, unless you understand what happened while you were in Edinburgh.”
Though he already knew what she intended to say, he could read the fear and nervousness in her posture. He wanted to spare her this moment, but he couldn’t admit that Sinclair had told him of the attack. Despite the knowledge, it was far worse seeing her struggle to tell him. He didn’t want to hear it from her lips. Instead, he wanted to forget it, to bury the past that haunted her.
Juliette’s face was pale, her hands clasped together. “I should have told you this long ago,” she began, “but I was too afraid you would look upon me with hatred.”
“Nothing you say would ever make me hate you,” he offered. But from the tight expression on her face, he knew she didn’t believe him. Likely she thought he would be furious with her or blame her in some way. He wouldn’t. But even imagining that night brought a dark violence within him. He wanted to murder the man who had hurt her. And though he didn’t know the attacker’s name, his suspicions were on edge. He’d already guessed who it was… but he didn’t truly want her to confirm the answer.
“I told you I didn’t want to marry you, or any man,” she said at last. “But there was a reason why. A reason I was too ashamed to say.”
He waited for her to tell him of the attack. His gut clenched, his mouth somber in readiness.
Juliette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “In May of last year, I gave birth to a son.”
God above, that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. All of the tension within him stretched tighter, until Paul felt as though his body had turned to stone. Though he’d known about the rape, Sinclair had said nothing about a child. Juliette had a living reminder of the night she’d been violated. Not only had she suffered the loss of her innocence, but she’d become a mother as well.
“My family doesn’t know about this. I gave him to another woman.” She stared at him, her eyes holding the weariness and pain of a mother who had to let go of a child she loved.
Paul remained silent, revealing nothing at all. A numbness flowed over him at her revelation, as another piece fell into place. His mind went cold, and he could find no words to respond. It was as if the ground beneath him had vanished, leaving him to fall into a void.
“Say something, Paul,” she whispered, twisting at the silver ring. Her glance flickered toward the house, and he realized now what her true reason was for wanting to be in London.
Her son was here.
His mind flashed with the memory of her holding a bairn in her arms, rocking him at night. She’d looked upon him with such love. There was no question of what had happened to her son.
“Your aunt is raising him, isn’t she?”
She hesitated for a long pause, then nodded. “Charlotte took me in and made the excuse that I would be her traveling companion, since Lord Arnsbury was too busy to go with her. She took me to Norway, where I lived until I gave birth.”
Her voice had gone quiet, and she covered her flushed cheeks with her palms. “I nearly died. The labor pains went on for days, and the birth didn’t go well. I was out of my mind with fever, and it was a miracle I lived.”
Paul let out a slow breath, knowing how many died in childbirth. He’d seen them suffer, and countless women died from hemorrhaging or childbed fever. To think of Juliette wracked with pain evoked a phantom regret that he had not been there for her.
“It’s unlikely I’ll ever bear another child. It would kill me,” she admitted.
He revealed none of his thoughts, for he could see the vivid pain in her face. Her eyes gleamed with tears, and she said at last, “I hope you understand now why I cannot… ever share your bed. It’s more than my fear of what happened to me. It could cost me my life.”
She stared at Paul as if she expected him to look upon her with revulsion. It wasn’t that. It was as if he were seeing her through a pane of glass. There was an invisible barrier there that could never be broken. And behind it was a woman hurting. A woman who believed she was unworthy of happiness.
Paul needed to know who the son of a bitch was so he could kill him. “You never gave yourself to anyone, did you?” he said slowly, trying to keep himself calm. “You were attacked.”
Her face drained of color, but she nodded. “I—I went out walking alone. It was my foolishness, and there was no one to hear me cry out for help.” A tear slid down her face, and she gripped her hands together. “I fought him, but… he was too strong.”
“Who?” he demanded. The words were a razor, for he fully intended to avenge her. The man didn’t deserve to live, and Paul had a mind to ensure that the bastard was incapable of being with a woman again.
Juliette remained silent for a long time. At last she said, “If I tell you, you’ll try to kill him.”
“You’re damned right I will. Or he’ll wish he was dead.” He had no qualms about hurting the man who had violated Juliette. An eye for an eye…
But he could see the reluctance on her face. He reached up with one hand to cup her cheek. “I deserve his name, Juliette.”
“What’s done is done. No matter who it was, nothing can undo what happened.”
She closed her eyes, covering his hand with her own. Although he was trying to remain calm, his blood was boiling. This man had stolen her innocence, and because of it, she would not willingly share herself again. The need to know burned within him.
“I want to ensure that you ne’er lay eyes on him again.”
She turned in his embrace, resting her cheek against his heart. “Isn’t it enough that I’ve told you this much?”
