“Her hands were always shaking,” James continued. “She couldn’t even lift a glass to her lips, but when she was painting, they were still. After she died, my father moved all her paintings to this room. It hurt him too much to see them. He died just a year later, when I was eighteen.”
I drew a breath, stricken by the raw grief in his face, the honesty of his words. He turned his eyes away from the painting and back to me.
I didn’t know what to say, for fear of ruining the understanding growing between us. “I am sorry. That must have been very difficult for you.”
He gave a soft smile. “I miss them both every day. But I was fortunate to have no doubt as to their love for me, and mine for them. I treasure that.”
My heart ached, a sharp pang in my chest. “How did you know?” I swallowed. “That they loved you?”
James looked at my face for a long moment. “They told me every day, but they also showed me. They cared deeply for my happiness, and they did all they could not to hurt me. There is a softness with which you are treated when you are loved. There are no conditions or selfish intentions.”
I pretended to understand, giving a slow nod, but my heart sank. I had never been told I was loved. At least Mama cared for my happiness…didn’t she?
James gestured to the chairs in the center of the room. The moment we sat down, he leaned forward. “I understand you have a confession to make?”
My stomach flopped with nervousness. Why had I offered to tell him anything? “I believe it was a trade that we agreed upon.”
He nodded. “That we did.”
“Perhaps you can share first.” I gave a cajoling smile. “Who was the woman you wrote the love letter for?”
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at me in exasperation. “I will tell you, but only if you tell me one thing.” He paused. “Why do you wish to know?”
His question bristled over my skin, a sharp reminder that even I didn’t know the answer. WhydidI care to know? Why didn’t I just dispose of the letter? As I thought about what to say, I realized I couldn’t tell him the truth about this. The reason I wanted to know was because I envied her. To be loved by a man like James made that lady very fortunate.
I stopped myself. I didn’t want to be loved by anyone, especially not someone so far below my ambitions. So why did the thought of that woman choke me with longing for what she had?
James was waiting for my answer, but I still didn’t have it.Why do you wish to know?Why did I? My voice spoke words I hadn’t planned for. “You know about so many things that have hurt me. And…I realized that I don’t know very much about you—about the hard things you’ve had to bear. I wish to be a confidante, a…friend, as you have been mine.” I looked at him, surprised by the shyness I felt.
He looked at my face for a long moment, and for some reason I regretted calling him my friend. Had I overstated ourrelationship? Perhaps he only thought of me as an acquaintance or neighbor.
He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Her name was Mary.” His voice took on a formal tone. “She came from a family well-positioned in society, but not wealthy by any means. I was still grieving the deaths of my parents, and she came here during the summer to visit her cousins. She did not like it here and missed her life in London.”
That sounded quite a lot like me. I swallowed.
“We connected over our different forms of heartache, and as we came to know one another, I thought I had fallen in love with her.” He breathed in slowly. “I never professed my feelings to her, but she knew. I finally summoned the courage to write my feelings in a letter. I planned to deliver it personally, but when I called upon her, she was no longer here. She had returned home to marry a man with whom she had a previous engagement—an engagement to a wealthy viscount. She had kept the entire thing a secret from me.” He looked down at the floor. “She never loved me at all. She cared for nothing but a title and a fortune, which I lack.” He was silent for several seconds, and finally looked at my face again.
“Why did you carry the letter with you after so much time?” The question spilled out. It had been in his pocket when it had fallen out onto the table.
He hesitated, his brow creased. “I don’t know. I suppose I was holding onto something I should not have been holding onto.” A light laugh escaped him, and he shook his head. “It was good that you took it from me. I have since been able to find a great deal of healing by not constantly reading those words. I have realized that I would much rather give my heart to a woman who will value it.”
I studied the remnants of heartbreak and betrayal in his features. Had I ever broken a heart like this woman had brokenhis? Guilt pooled in my stomach as the realization dawned on me that I was exactly like her. There was little I wouldn’t sacrifice for the opportunity to marry a viscount. My heart pounded.
After a moment, the rawness cleared from James’s expression, and he gave me a serious look. “It is your turn now. Your confession?”
I took a deep breath and tried to appear calm. I wished I could reverse time and not have agreed to tell him anything. Once he knew the true reason I was here, how I had lied to him, there would be no hope of him ever respecting me again. “I was not entirely honest with you.”
He watched me, waiting for me to continue.
I breathed deeply and rubbed my gloved hands over my skirt. “My sister and I were sent here to Craster on an errand.” I swallowed. “My father…he was familiar with all the gaming halls of London. He gambled away our entire fortune, leaving us in ruin. My mother secured a place for herself to live with one of her cousins, but sent us, her daughters, to a cottage on the tip of England, where no one would know of our disgrace.” I tried to keep my voice even, to shun the bitterness. “I had one assignment from her, and it was to secure a match of title and wealth who could save us. Your brother was her primary choice.”
I didn’t dare look at James in the silence that followed.
“You’re fortune hunters.” His voice was hard.
I couldn’t deny it. My throat was dry as I swallowed. “I failed, obviously, and I have no intention of trying again.”
“I suspected it. But not from your sister.”
