She drew her brows together. “Someone abandoned you in your time of need?”
“Not someone. Most everyone.” He smiled humorlessly. “Especially the females in my life.”
“You shall have to explain.”
While Gigi’s tone was firm, he took her softening expression as a positive sign. He gave her the story he had carefully prepared. All of it was true, even if certain details were glossed over.
“My papa died when I was not yet eight years old, and my mama was not able to raise me on her own. It wasn’t her fault, for I was young and she was without resources. She left me in the care of a guardian, promising she would come back for me. I never saw her again. She passed away before she could make good on her word.”
“Oh, Conrad. I’m sorry.”
From anyone else, pity would have been intolerable. Yet Gigi was different. The empathy in her liquid eyes reminded him of what he’d felt when he looked at an engraving of Pearl, kneeling naked amongst the leaves. Not just lust but a feeling of connection—of not being alone in the dark, dark forest.
He nodded gruffly. “Like I said, it wasn’t her fault.”
“What about the other females you mentioned? Were they your…um, lovers?”
He liked the hint of asperity in Gigi’s tone. Jealousy meant she cared.
“Yes. I haven’t had the best luck when it comes to my liaisons,” he said blandly. “Do you know how I made my living before I began investing?”
She shook her head.
“I was a prizefighter. I spent five years taking whatever fights were offered, saving up my winnings so that I would have money to invest.”
As she digested that information, he added, “It isn’t unusual for prizefighters to have female admirers. Women are drawn to the primal nature of the sport.”
“And you had your fair share of admirers, I assume?”
Hiding a smile at Gigi’s tartness, he nodded. “I did. None of the relationships lasted long. Most of the women wanted a taste of the forbidden—a roll between less civilized sheets—and once they had it, they moved on to the next novelty.”
“Surely you were more than a novelty,” she said quietly.
“When I became rich, a few women did want me for the comforts I could afford them.” He thought of Isobel. “Or as means to some other ends.”
Gigi frowned. “That is horrid.”
“That’s life, sweetheart, and I didn’t mind because the transaction was mutual.” He shrugged. “Except with Victoria. I met her at one of my prizefights and thought she was different. She was a widow. Her parents had married her to an old toff when she was eighteen, and when he died a decade later, she was ready to exercise her freedom. I fell in love with her, and she told me my feelings were returned. When I proposed, she said yes.”
“What happened?”
“She changed her mind and married another toff. According to her letter—which she sent rather than meeting me in person—she’d enjoyed our time together but needed a more conventional life than I could offer. I suppose the idea of being wed to a fellow whose main prospect was his ability to pound his opponents to a fare-thee-well had lost its shine. She married a title…a baron, I think.”
After all these years, the pain was no more than a sting. He realized that if he’d wanted Victoria badly enough, he would have told her the truth of who he was. But he hadn’t because some part of him had known that she wasn’t worth the risk of compromising his revenge. Now he was mostly embarrassed by how readily he’d been taken…by how weak and gullible he’d been. To his surprise, Gigi crossed the swaying carriage to sit next to him.
Her expression solemn, she said, “You are more than what Victoria—what any of these past lovers—believed you to be.”
He was stunned by the pleasure her simple words evoked. Stunned by how much it mattered that she believed this of him. That she saw past the ugliness of his history to recognize what no one else had.
“None of them matter,” he said hoarsely. “I’m telling you about my past not to excuse my behavior but to explain why I acted as I did. You…you’re different from other females I’ve known. In the past, I implied that you were nothing but a spoiled chit acting out of boredom, and I was wrong. You are a clever, brave, and resourceful woman, and when you came back for me, what I ought to have done was express gratitude and admiration. Instead, I snapped at you like a rabid mongrel.”
“I forgive you.”
At her tremulous smile, relief burgeoned in his chest.
“Thank you. You cannot know what that means to me.”
Taking her hand, he brushed his lips over her knuckles. Then he tucked her hand against his thigh and felt her tremble at the intimacy.
