Her vague wave encompassed all the riches she’d always associated with the exalted title.
“Everything that isn’t entailed or nailed down has been sold,” he said bluntly. “The financial troubles did not begin with me. My father, the former duke, lived well beyond his means and mismanaged the estate. It wasn’t until his deathbed that he presented me with my true inheritance: a duchy in ruin.” His mouth twisted. “His Grace rather enjoyed that moment, I think. Told me I was getting what I deserved. Said a weakling like me would have destroyed the duchy anyway.”
“What a horrid thing to say,” she burst out.
No wonder Rhys had called his father a bastard.
“He wasn’t entirely wrong.” Rhys spoke without inflection. “He created the debts, but I made them worse through my idiotic investments.” Self-loathing darkened his eyes. “I had a bequest from my mother, which I used to invest in schemes that promised the highest yields. My initial bets paid off. I was able to reduce the debts and continue to live in the manner to which I was accustomed.
“Over time, however, my investments began to fail. One by one, they pulled me deeper and deeper into the abyss of ruin. The situation got out of control, and I lost my head. I turned to the bottle, spent my days gambling, brawling…whoring.”
He looked at her beneath his lashes. She realized he was awaiting her condemnation, perhaps wanting it. She remained silent for no one could judge him more harshly than he clearly did himself.
“Out of desperation, I made the worst mistake of all,” he said darkly. “I turned to the cent-per-cents, thinking I would use borrowed money to earn back what I had lost.”
She swallowed, knowing the outcome.
“In the end, I lost everything and more. And my failure didn’t affect only me. I had to let scores of servants go, some of them long-time retainers at the family seat. When I sold off my residences in London and Paris, the staff there lost their livelihoods as well. With my arrogance and stupidity, I destroyed lives.”
His brutal self-condemnation squeezed her heart. She went to him, laid a hand on his arm. Beneath the linen, his bicep was curved steel.
“You cannot be faulted for trying to make the best of a bad situation,” she said.
He shook his head. “Not only did I not improve the situation, I made it worse—farworse.”
“In retrospect, yes, you did,” she said frankly. “But if we knew in hindsight what we do in the present, life would be so much simpler, wouldn’t it? We all make mistakes. It is how we respond to them that matters. You can berate yourself endlessly, but where will that get you?”
He stared pensively at a point beyond her.
“Now you are making a different choice. A better one.” She was determined for him to see that. “Once you find your inheritance, you will restore what you’ve lost and the livelihoods of those once dependent upon you. The important thing is that you mustn’t give up hope.”
He suddenly reached out, snatching her against him. Her breath whooshed out as she collided with his hard frame. Her heart thumped as he kept her tucked against him, as he just…held her.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly.
“I didn’t do anything,” she whispered.
“You’re you, and you’re extraordinary.”
She couldn’t let that untruth stand. Tipping her head back, she said, “I’m ordinary.”
Beneath his mustache, his lips curved. “There’s not a single thing ordinary about you, Maggie. Even the fact that you think you are is extraordinary.”
“Everything I said was just common sense.”
“That is one thing lacking in theton. Or perhaps Society simply enjoyed witnessing my downfall.” His expression turned stark. “Because of my mixed blood, I was an outcast at Eton. I learned early on how to deal with bullies. As I became an adult, my “exotic” looks made me popular. But as my fortunes turned, people whom I called friends turned their backs on me. Not one of them offered to lend a hand. They lost interest once I ceased to live up to the image of the devil-may-care rake.”
Now that he’d explained why he hadn’t told her about his being a duke, she was no longer angry. Her heart bled for the ostracism he’d endured. The cruelty that had been inflicted upon him through no fault of his own. How well she understood that brand of helplessness.
At the same time, her stomach sank like quicksand. Although she’d always known that their affair was temporary, now shefeltit. A duke and a former bar maid—there could be no happy ending.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Rhys tipped her chin up. “Regretting your decision to help a man like me? I wouldn’t blame you. Failure is not the most attractive quality, is it?”
Despite his sardonic tone, vulnerability lurked in his eyes. She couldn’t stand for him to believe that she thought any less of him. That she was any less attracted to him. In truth, his imperfections, his humanity, drew her to him even more.
Don’t think about the future. Enjoy this affair for as long as it lasts…for that is all you’ll ever have with Rhys.
She summoned a brisk tone. “You’renota failure. And wallowing will not help you.”
