Of course, it did. And yet, he’d become obsessed with his bloodline.
His real fault had been an excessive pride, and the sudden, awful realization that his pride was based on a falsehood.
Because of that pride, he’d placed the livelihood of thousands in doubt.
Because of that pride, he’d wooed, and destroyed, the kindest person he’d ever known.
“Whydid you wager your estate?” she asked, as horrified as he felt. “Are you dying?”
“No.” Though, at the moment, he wished he was.
“Debt ridden?” she asked.
“No,” he repeated. “I have debts. Deep debts. But they are not of coin, they are of honor.”
“Honor,” she repeated, with a disbelieving shake of her head. “You will have to explain.”
Physically, he held her, but she had gone. Still, he could not let go. If he touched her, he could almost believe things would resolve. That she would, once again, call him Giles.
“The worst,” he said, “is not my secret to tell.”
She wretched from his grasp. Immediately, he felt the loss. He was alone in the dark, without a familiar sign or symbol.
“If you will not tell me,” she said. “I am certain Rayne will oblige.”
“Rayne doesn’t know,” he said miserably.
“If Rayne doesn’t know, who does?”
“Me,” he swallowed. “My mother. And I suppose—” He rubbed his head. He supposed his father. Who could be an artist. Or a footman. Or God knew what.
I pray for the poor child you intend to wed.
He hoped his mother had prayed hard.
“Katherine,” he said quietly, “I am a bastard.”
“Pardon?”
“Not in the legal sense,” he explained, “but in every sense it matters to a man of honor.”
She took a step backward. Right that she should. Who, knowing the truth, would want to be close to him?
“So, you are not the marquess’s son. I am certain that knowledge would have been devastating, but I still do not understand. Why would you cheat in order to rid yourself of your lands? If you did not feel you could steward the estate, why not offer your lands for sale?”
“Sale?” he asked, astonished. He’d never even considered a sale. Ancient holdings were not simply sold.
Pride, again. Of course, they were.
“I—I thought it imperative the estate remain in the bloodline. Markham has Langley blood. Had he been born into the male line, he would have been next to inherit.”
“So I understand Markham would have been the next in line. And I understand you wished the Bromton lands to be tied to blood. I still don’t understand why you would allow Markham to convince you to court— Oh, Bromton, no!” She went white. “You decided to breed me in service to your pride, didn’t you? Like afilly. Oh,sweetheavens.”
Soon, she’d be forever beyond his reach. He could see it in her eyes.
She clamped one hand over her mouth, while holding her stomach with the other. She stumbled toward the hearth. Grasping the fire screen with both hands, she leaned forward and, with a ghastly, wrenching sound, she cast up her accounts.
He clenched and unclenched his utterly worthless hands. “It was not like that. At least, not after I met you.” He stepped forward. “Let me help you.”
