Except, she wanted to unburden herself, not that it would help, but for a moment it might.
Or was it because if someone else knew the truth, she would be punished as she deserved.
She also did not care. Who knew when they would get off this island, if they would get off this island or if they would even survive?
But if she did tell him everything, then he might not call on her and she wanted him to. Except, he did not know how horrible a person she was and it was only fair that he did.
“There is more, is there not?” Rhys asked quietly.
“I fear that you will see me as selfish and frivolous if I tell you.”
He chuckled. “I find it difficult to believe that there is anything frivolous about you.”
“Exactly! That is how I am supposed to be, but I was not…or was…frivolous.”
“I do not understand. Explain it to me.”
“Oh, I should not. I would rather you think me morally sound, straight-laced and a prude who does nothing wrong.”
“Is that what I think of you?” he asked with a chuckle.
Tempest shrugged. “Everyone else does.”
“Who would say such a thing?” Rhys asked in outrage.
“I hear many conversations that I am cold, stubborn, have no softness, and am better suited to be a governess or teacher than a wife.”
Those words had hurt when she had overheard them, but she also had to agree with them. She couldn’t be silly or pretend that she must have a man to take care of her when she’d already been doing all the caring.
“Those men are fools,” Rhys ground out.
“Yes, well, they were, but not for the reasons of rejecting me,” she said. “You do not know me…well, away from here. I am…responsible and not frivolous and the one time I was, it got good men killed.”
“Tempest, I still do not understand.”
Of course he did not. Rhys did not know her and she did not really know him, they knew about each other, but not much.
“My mother died when I was ten and Nicoll was two. Father remarried when I was eleven and soon followed Margaret when I was twelve, then Ann, Ruth and finally Ellen when I was eight and ten. Their mother died a year later.”
Tempest frowned and looked up at Rhys. “Did you bring the rum out here?”
“Neither one of us needs any more rum.” Though he would probably drink more when he retired to his hammock later.
“Do you know that I have been my father’s hostess at his entertainments since I was six and ten? His second wife, my stepmother, was a lovely woman but could not be seen in public very often because she was either increasing or in confinement because of a sister being born.” Even as she said the words Tempest’s face heated, but she was also certain that Rhys McNaught, British spy working for The Lion Watch knew all about babies, where they came from and how they got there. No doubt he was very well-versed on the topic. Well, the part that a couple partook in to beget heirs even though one was not always a result.
She frowned. How did one not get with child. Bachelors must know a trick to keep it from happening. Something her father had never learned or she would not have had so many sisters born so closely together. Her frown deepened. Except, she and Nicoll had eight years between them. There must be some way that a couple could enjoy the supposedly pleasurable activity, that she would never experience, unless she wed, and that was unlikely to ever happen, and not end up with a child.
What had she been trying to tell him? Oh, yes, her role in her father’s home. “Because Father was a diplomat, many dinners were held in our home. It was my duty to supervise the servants, the house, all that a mistress of a home would be responsible for. Then, when my stepmother died, I became the mother to my siblings.”
Oh, she did not mean to complain and Tempest quickly turned to Rhys. “I love them dearly, so please do not misunderstand. But when the invitation to my uncle’s home for the Christmas holiday—a house party—came, I begged to attend. It was the first opportunity that I would have to attend entertainments and the ball and not have to worry about if there was enough wine, if there was enough food, if the guests were happy, if the servants were doing what was necessary, if there were enough candles…”
She glanced over to note his green eyes filled with sympathy, which made her feel even worse.
“I wanted to be frivolous and not think about the war. I wanted to have a holiday where I did not have the responsibility of the household or to sit and attend the letters my father dictated when an English soldier lost his life.”
“He does not have a secretary for that?” Rhys asked.
“My father wanted the letters to be more personal but he admittedly lacked the words or emotion to express regret at a loss so it fell to me.” Tempest took in a breath and blew out a sigh. “I simply wanted to laugh and dance at a holiday house party.” She swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Do you think me so horrible?”
