“Yes.”
He was closed off now. Pain lived inside him, and she’d brought it too near the surface. He was answering her, true, and with all appearance of honesty. A wide gulf had opened between them, though. It filled her with unease. She couldn’t love half a man, pretending the other half didn’t exist.
“Do you care for your sister?”
He frowned. “I hardly know Madelina.”
“How can that be?” She asked it before she realized it must have to do with his exile to Egypt.
“She’s the daughter of my first stepmother. We lived under the same roof for three years. She was seven when the marquess sent her away. I haven’t seen her once in the past nine years.”
Lanora pressed her lips together. He answered her questions, but he was so cold. She’d never felt such distance between them. Not even in the moment her aunt had introduced them. He still clasped her fingers, but his grip was lax, as if he didn’t recall he did so.
She pulled her hand free, bringing both up to his face this time, one on either side of his jaw. Exerting pressure, she forced him to look at her. “William, whatever happened in your life, it matters not to me. All I want to know is what sort of man you are now, today. I simply wish to understand you.”
