“Well, they are happy,” he said instead. “Graham suffered for it a while, but now he clearly loves Adelaide to distraction, as you and I were witness to. I suppose it worked out in the end.”
She nodded. “It did, it seems. The friendship between the two men appears to have been repaired, as well.”
“Yes. And better than ever,” Robert agreed. “Like the place where they were torn apart, the injury to their friendship ended up healing stronger.”
“Hmmm.” She paced away from him, closer to the little cottage. “I wish all wounds healed that way.”
He nodded, his mind turning on his own points of damage, as well as hers. He knew them well. She had confessed them, trusting him with them, trusting him not to make them worse. Had anyone else in his life ever done that so completely? Had anyone else ever believed in him the way she apparently did?
She faced him after a moment and said, “What was it that made such a terrible look come on your face a few minutes ago?”
He stared at her, with afternoon sunshine filtering down over her face. She almost glowed in it, like he’d pictured an angel would do when he was a child. But she was real. She could be his.
And in that moment, he began to speak. “There are so many rumors about me.”
She blinked, as if surprised by that topic. Then she smiled slightly, pink entering her cheeks. “Yes.”
He shook his head. “Not just about my…expertise. My past.”
The smile left her face. “I suppose that is true. Though the ones about your sinful talents tend to outweigh the rest.”
He looked toward the cottage again, lost for a moment in thought, but never doubting what he was going to tell her. Why he needed to say it. The words were hard. Painful.
Necessary if there was to be any of that future that kept reaching out to tempt him.
“Yes, I suppose that is by design. I said it to you a few days ago, that sex can create a distance, a screen over what one might wish to conceal.”
She was quiet a moment. Then she stepped toward him and reached up to cup his cheek. It drew his eyes to her and her dark gaze snagged his, holding there. Filled with warmth and empathy. “And what would you want to conceal?”
“My mother,” he choked, hating the pain that tore through him as he said those two words. Knew what he would say next. “She is not buried in a proper place on my estate. My father would not allow it. She’s buried at a crossroads instead. Someplace unmarked, I practically need a map to find her.”
Her lips parted. “A crossroads,” she repeated. “Robert?”
He nodded, for he saw she understood the meaning of that loaded statement. Saw it crash over her lovely features, reflect back his own pain.
“She killed herself.”
Katherine stared at Robert, torn to shreds by the expression on his handsome face. He was so good at covering how he felt with a wicked smile or an arched brow or a playful laugh. But she saw through it all now, that charisma he used as a shield.
He lowered it and let her inside to where pain ruled.
“Suicide,” she repeated, her voice shaking. “Oh, Robert.”
He tensed and his gaze flitted away, like he was seeking a path where he could run away. But he didn’t. He stayed before her, cutting his heart out and offering it to her. She knew what a meaningful gift it was.
And she drew a breath and took both his hands in hers. “Tell me,” she whispered.
His breath went ragged and he eased down onto a fallen log. She took a place beside him, remaining silent as she allowed him a moment to collect his thoughts and find whatever horrible words he needed to say.
“Victoria,” he whispered. “That was her name.”
“Lovely,” Katherine whispered.
“I knew she and my father were troubled. He was…well, I have inherited his worst qualities, I suppose. Philandering was what he did, his number of affairs uncountable in their number. Christ, there are nearly a dozen by-blows whose support my estate ensures.”
Her lips parted. “Your half-siblings. Do you know them?”
“Some. In passing.” He bent his head. “She knew about them, too.”
