Grace jerked back from him. ‘No.’
‘Don’t pretend you haven’t heard the rumours.’
‘Yes, from the more spiteful members of the ton, and they have my contempt for saying such nonsense. But it is your business, Rawden. You need not discuss it with me.’
He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘I came too early to be his, my father said. It was an arranged marriage between my parents, much like ours - one of mutual prosperity and convenience – appropriate, I suppose, by the standards of the ton. But it was a hasty affair. My mother’s family were apparently keen to expedite the union as soon as may be. I have heard different versions over the years and cannot rely on the sources. For I have also heard that my father was the keen one, eager to ensnare my mother, the Honourable Agatha Radcliffe, for she was so very beautiful.’
‘He was in love, then?’
‘My father might have been besotted, but it is hard to imagine him truly in love. He had a rock for a heart. I like to believe that in the beginning, there was mutual respect in the marriage, but if there was, it quickly turned to mutual loathing. They were ill-suited. My father, so stern and cold, and my mother, amiable, outgoing, an impulsive woman with a free spirit, which he sought to break.’
‘So she was not happy in the marriage.’
‘Apparently, my father was little better than her jailor, and she was a disappointment as a wife, for she would not bend to his will. She was disobedient, fey and hedonistic. Yet, somehow, an heir was conceived just weeks into the marriage, after which my mother, duty done, eschewed his bed. They tolerated each other long enough to do their duty and conceive me, and then the marriage was over in all material respects. I have most of this from Reeves, who was in my father’s employ for years.’
‘He does not seem the sort to serve a gentleman or a grand house.’
‘No, for his manner is woefully rough, but my mother liked him, for he has always spoken his mind. And he, in return, had a fierce loyalty to her and to William and I by association.’
There was silence for a while, but Grace desperately wanted to know Rawden, so she had to ask. ‘So they were unhappy together. But what made your father name you as a…’
‘A bastard? You may say the word, for it no longer offends me. In fact, I take pride in not sharing that man’s blood. The truth is, my mother is rumoured to have lost her honour before marriage. My father declared that I was conceived with a lover. So she was tainted, and it was all my fault.’
‘How could you be to blame, Rawden?’
‘Because it was my fault, Grace. If only I had been in less of a rush to enter this world. Reeves told me I was big for a newborn, coming weeks early and taking everyone by surprise, though perhaps not my mother. Newborns are usually tiny, sagging bags of flesh, malformed little runts, but I was not. I was a sturdy boy with a loud cry, so my father’s suspicions were aroused. After that, he saw betrayal everywhere, in the haste with which they wed, my mother’s utter lack of interest in him as a husband, her shunning his bed. She denied the accusation, of course, but his desire for my mother had turned to resentment, so his jaded eye moved on. I grew up more her son than his. My father all but disowned me as a bastard. It all became a terrible scandal.’
‘But many couples come together before marriage if they are in love, so why would anyone think you were illegitimate?’
‘Rumours started to circulate that my mother was not chaste upon marriage, and it was only later in life that I found out the source was none other than my father. He set people to whispering behind her back. He subjected her to the scorn of society and the taint of loose morals, and then he sent my mother to this estate at Marshgrave, where he all but left her to rot until he needed another heir. I was sent here too, and it made for a miserable childhood, the servants looking at me sideways as a bastard and my mother, half mad with loneliness and disappointment.’
‘But they had William. I wonder that they would come together again, given they were so at odds.’
‘Indeed. It is somewhat of a puzzle. Reeves told me there was a grand ball held at Marshgrave the year of Will’s birth. For some reason, my father decided to allow my mother to attend, or she persuaded him to let her. Reeves said she was at her glittering best – sociable, graceful and very lovely. Perhaps the two of them imbibed too much that night, perhaps they came together for appearances, or my mother let my father into her bed to tempt his money from his pockets, but whatever the reason, by some miracle, William was conceived, at which point my father departed once more.’
‘I am sorry for your mother. She must have been very unhappy.’
‘Yes, but she took solace in her children. She was a kind and loving mother. And when William came along, I also took solace in him, for he had not a vicious bone in his body, not even as a child. He was clumsy and needed looking after, always falling over and following me everywhere. And we would play together in these woods, along the rocks on the shoreline, fishing for crabs, climbing trees, skinning our knees. So, I do have some happy memories of Marshgrave before I was sent away to school. It was while I was there that my mother died.’
‘How?’
‘Pneumonia. She liked to walk in all weathers and got soaked one day and was taken very quickly. When she passed, I think it shocked my father to the core. I remember he was desolate.’
‘So he relented towards you?’
‘Not for long. He still liked to punish her, even unto the grave. As I grew up, my father favoured William over me and made no secret of it. Oh, he twisted that knife, I can tell you.’
‘He did?’
‘I was sent away to school at an early age, where I was mercilessly bullied. The rumours of my mother’s supposed infidelity had preceded me, you see. Some wither under such abuse, but I thrived on it and became vicious, self-reliant and strong. I did not feel worthy of love, so I avoided it at all costs. I grew a cold, hard shell. So, perhaps I am my father’s son after all.’
‘And William?’ Grace could hardly bring herself to say his name, given what she and Rawden had just shared. She held her breath lest it anger him.
He gave a great, heaving sigh. ‘William was brought up at home and treated as the heir to the Voss fortune. He grew up in my mother’s image, not my father’s, so he turned out well, the finest of men. I, on the other hand, grew up in bitterness, and I have neither my father’s cold, calculating temperament nor my mother’s loving one. I take after whatever black fiend sired me.'
‘Rawden, why say that? You do not know that you are a bastard.’
‘Of course I am, for I am sinful, reckless and loveless to my core, Grace.’
