“Your mother is right,” she admitted. “I’m simply not duchess material.”
There was a gap to his left and he edged his legs into it. It was larger than he’d expected. He could get them out of here. She would, by God, agree to marry him.
But first he must free her foot.
Very carefully.
“Is it because of how you see yourself?”
“It’s because of who I actually am.”
He located a small broken board and turned it to stand beneath one of the beams to his right. Hopefully, it would be thick enough to hold if necessary.
A wave of dizziness rolled over him. Without her touch, his fear threatened to crush in around him.
He remembered those moments in the stairwell, when she’d helped him by simply… talking.
“I don’t deserve to be a duke any more than you deserve to be a duchess. But it’s our fate.” There he went again, embracing this notion of destiny—of a predetermined future for both of them.
“But you aren’t illegitimate.”
“My inheritance is. But for my father’s ill-fated decision not to marry Rowan’s mother, I’d likely be a soldier, or a cleric.” He grunted as he reached to place a support. “But for your father’s ill-fated decision to marry your brother’s mother, you would have already taken theTonby storm and not given me a second look.”
“I’d have given you a second look.” Her voice echoed softly from beneath the cot. “And a third.”
“Even my father regretted not marrying Rowan’s mother.” Addison never discussed this with anyone. It was a topic that he and his brother were well adept at avoiding. “Rowan was always stronger than me… My father hated that his legal heir was weak. I was smaller. I was… a disappointment.”
* * *
She pictured him as a child,again, as she’d imagined—with lighter hair and sweet eyes that would have been innocent and trusting.
“There was a place for storage, a box in my father’s study. After he discovered the fear I had, from the bog, he said it was his duty to crush it. And according to my father, that meant making me face it.”
Addison paused and then grunted from exertion as he shuffled around. The sound of wood scraping against wood had her holding her breath.
“Be careful. I don’t know what I’d do…” She swallowed hard, the thought of losing him was suddenly all too real.
And unbearable.
This man. She’d be half a person without him.
“He locked me in it. You say you’re not a screamer. I think I screamed that first time until my voice went raw. He didn’t let me out until much later. I either fell asleep from exhaustion or passed out from clawing at the lid. Thereafter, that box was my punishment. For failing at my studies or playing with the wrong children. For doing anything that would tarnish our family’s honor. It didn’t take long to realize how important it was never to break the rules.”
Honor was everything.
No wonder. Dear God. How could a father do that to his own child?
No wonder.
“And your mother didn’t stop him?” She brushed away a tear. Had both his parents been monsters?
“She didn’t know. Even if she had, I doubt she could have. My father was a very stubborn man.” He paused and she heard wood shifting before he continued. “My brother teases me now for always staying within the lines, so to speak. I do believe he was rather thrilled when I told him about you, Collette. Let me know how you are doing.”
His story summoned silent tears to stream down her face and she swallowed hard before she could answer. The wood pressing down on her foot felt tighter; she couldn’t even twist now. But she didn’t want to worry him. He was already doing everything he could.
“Collette?” He seemed to pause what he was doing.
“I’m afraid.” But that wasn’t going to help. “But I’m well enough.”
