Now that she was calmer, she had to admit that he hadn’t lied, not exactly. His sin had been one of omission. He simply hadn’t told her when he’d ended things with Kitty, and, to be fair, she hadn’t asked. She’d just assumed that it had been longer thantwo years.
As her belly churned, she tried to think rationally. Two years were two years. It was not as if he’d been unfaithful to her…. then why did shefeelas if he had?
It was because of Kitty. The cold, calculating bitch who had sold her to a disgusting lecher.
Rosie’s fingers clenched the doll’s satin skirts. Why hadn’t Andrew fought to save her back then? Why had he abandoned her to thosemonsters?
With a cry of rage, she threw the doll across the room. She watched, bosom heaving, as it flew through the air and smashed against a wall, pieces scattering on the ground.
Slowly, she went over. She crouched and picked up the largest piece—the doll’s face: still white, still pretty, still composed. She turned it over in her palm, and her breath jammed at the discovery.
The inside of the figurine wasn’t white, pretty, or composed. Here, the unglazed clay was dark and rough. Before being hardened by fire, the pliable material had been deeply scored, slashed with random marks.
All this time... her beautiful companion had been scarred on the inside.
Scarred on the inside.
Scars on the inside.
Out of nowhere, memories pelted her.
I thought you came to me because of what I used to do, and I didn’t like that…. She didn’t sell me. It was my choice. I wanted to put food on our table and fucking was an easier way to do it than thieving or running with cutthroats…. We all have to be good at something, and I’m a good pimp.... No one has ever given me what you have—passion, sweetness, joy. I don’t deserve it, but you make me feel like a different man.
Awareness prickled through her like sensation through an awakening limb.
“Rosie, are you all right?” Mama entered in a swish of forest green velvet, a sleeping Sophie in her arms. “I thought I heard something…” Her gaze went to the fragments on the floor.
Rosie stood, swallowing thickly. “I think I broke something, Mama. And I—I’m not sure how to fix it.”
“Are you ready to talk about it?” her mother said quietly.
“May I hold Sophie while we do?”
Cuddling her sleeping sister close, she sat next to her mama on the window seat and told the other about Kitty Barnes—about everything.
“I was so hurt, Mama, that I just ran away. I didn’t give Andrew a chance to explain,” she said miserably. “Now that I’ve had a chance to think, I suspect there’s more to the story than I realized. More tohisstory.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Mama murmured. “Given your own history, it’s no wonder you’d react that way. And I think you’re right about Corbett. He’s a complex fellow. I realized that when I met him all those years ago.”
“What was he like then?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Charming, confident… and young.” Mama hesitated. “Despite what he must have seen of the world, he wasn’t as jaded as one would expect. His sense of honor was still intact, and there was a tenderness in him that life hadn’t managed to extinguish. It was those two qualities, I think, that prompted him to aid in my quest to find you.”
“Andrewishonorable and tender,” Rosie said, her voice scratchy, “and he’s been through so much. More than you know. His mother was addicted to drink, and she brought him into the trade when he was only…” She bit her lip, not wanting to betray her lover’s confidences. “The point is, he had every reason to resent his mama. But he didn’t. He loved her. And despite the fact that he’s a pimp, he’s a good man—just ask anyone who works for him. He’s generous and strong and caring.”
Mama regarded her with compassionate eyes. “You love him.”
“I do.” Rosie’s voice hitched. “I’m so confused!”
“Because he hasn’t told you he loves you?”
“No, he did. In fact,I’mthe one who hasn’t said the words. I was going to the night that Kitty appeared. Now I don’t know what to do.” Belly clenching, she recognized the crux of her dilemma. “How can I love a man who’d love a woman like Kitty? Who’d leave me with her, knowing what she intended to do?”
“First things first. What makes you think Corbett loved Kitty Barnes?”
“He told me he started sleeping with her when he was fifteen. He didn’t end the affair until two years ago. Why would he consort with her for that long—even if it was on and off—if not for love?”
“How old was Kitty when the affair began?”
