“It was a few years after I absconded from Creavey. Grimshaw had retired to the countryside. One day, he returned home from his duties as a church deacon and discovered neighbors thronged around his cottage. They were gawking, whispering, pointing to the pages papering the outside of his home—pages taken from the books in his hidden stash. Entire volumes of pornography depicting extreme acts of sadism covered every inch of those walls. His favorite mementos from his days as headmaster—the whips and birches, the paddles and rods—were hung like decorations for all to see.”
Gigi swallowed. “I suppose that is what one calls just deserts.”
“No, just deserts was when Grimshaw took his own life,” Conrad said coolly. “When he discovered he couldn’t bear being a pariah, the old hypocrite hung himself.”
Gigi shivered at his ruthlessness. At the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to feel pity for Grimshaw. The bounder had abused vulnerable children in his care, and he’d reaped what he’d sown. Thinking of the damage he’d caused—of the suffering he’d inflicted on Conrad, a vulnerable boy who had no one to look after him—made her sick to her stomach. Finally, she understood the root of Conrad’s issues with trust: he’d been betrayed by those closest to him. His brothers, Grimshaw, even his past lovers.
“When I escaped Creavey at age seventeen, I changed my identity so no one could find me. Do you know why I adopted the name Conrad Godwin?”
She shook her head.
“I chose Conrad because it sounded strong. Like a man bullies would think twice about taking on. And Godwin…”
At the faraway look in his eyes, she whispered, “Where did Godwin come from?”
“It was the name of the furniture maker that built Grimshaw’s punishment bench,” he said flatly. “Every time I was forced to submit to his beatings, I would see the maker’s mark. And I would repeat it to myself to distract from the pain. One could say Godwin helped me to survive, so that is who I became.”
Heat pushed behind her eyes, words failing her.
“Does knowing this piece of history make you think less of me?”
Conrad’s features were impassive, yet his eyes burned with emotion. He’d laid himself bare in a way he never had before, and it horrified her that he might mistake her reaction for anything other than what it was.
Fury at his abuser. Admiration for him. Most of all, love.
“Quite the opposite.” She pushed through the hitch in her voice. “To know that you’ve survived this, it…well, it quite breaks my heart. You didn’t deserve any of it. Not the treatment from your brothers, not the abuses from Grimshaw. I wish your mama could have protected you and herself, even though it wasn’t her fault that she could not.”
“No,” Conrad agreed. “The fault was not hers.”
“I’ve always admired your strength of will. Even when it drove me mad. But now I am grateful because it helped you to survive a past that would have brought others to their knees. While I am sorry beyond words that you had to go through such travails, it made you the man you are today: Conrad Godwin. The man I love with all my heart.”
She touched his jaw, feeling its rigidity. The tension of everything he’d held back.
“Thank you for sharing this with me. Given all you’ve survived, I understand now why trust does not come easily. Why it has been difficult for you to share your secrets.”
“I trust you,” he said roughly.
His declaration felt like the greatest gift.
“That bodes well for our future,” she said softly. “We are bound now, and as husband and wife, there shouldn’t be any secrets between us.”
“About that.” Conrad tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “Do you recall how I started this conversation?”
Lost in the warm, green pools of his eyes, she had to cast her mind back.
She tilted her head because it suddenly occurred to her. “What was your birth name? Who was your papa?”
“I was born Christian Beaufort,” he said. “My papa was Hugh Beaufort, and my eldest brother is Robert Beaufort.”
She blinked as the names sank in. “The Duke of Grantley…he is your brother?”
“He is. And I am his heir.” Conrad’s gaze glittered. “Despite his attempts to destroy me, I survived. My middle brothers died one by one, and Robert’s wife, Lady Katerina, has given him only daughters.”
She tried to comprehend what he was saying. “You’re going to be a duke one day?”
“Within weeks, according to my sources. Robert is dying of syphilis, and he doesn’t have long. Soon I will be the Duke of Grantley.” He lifted her hand, kissing it. “And you will be my duchess.”
As she digested that information, a thought struck her.
