He ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about who I am.”
Annabel’s heart stilled.Was Nate correct? Is Henry going to confess to being a spy for my father? Or worse—Craventhorp himself?
“Do you remember when I told you my mother lived in Germany?”
Annabel nodded.
“She didn’t go voluntarily. My grandfather sent her there because—” he closed his eyes as if trying to absorb the pain of what he was about to reveal and then opened them again—“because she cuckolded my father before I was born. The timing of that event put a question mark on my lineage. My father never knew about the affair, so he accepted me as his own. He died shortly after my birth, and I inherited his title, but I will never know if it truly belongs to me.”
Annabel nodded. She could understand his pain and admired his desire to admit the truth to her. It couldn’t have been easy for him. “I don’t think that changes who you are, Henry.”
“The man in question was of very ill repute”—he bit his lip and frowned as if suppressing something painful. Annabel’s heart ached for him.
“When I discovered these events—three years ago—it changed me. I’ve been bitterly angry at my mother for showing no remorse and denying any wrongdoing. But that is not why I’m telling you this. My anger at her has come to dominate my life. Now I wonder if it has clouded my judgment and made me unnecessarily suspicious and distrustful, particularly to those I care about.”
“That does explain a great deal,” Annabel said. “I am relieved to learn that your distrust in me has other roots.”
“I never realized it until your comments tonight. But I wish to apologize now for making assumptions.” He shook his head as if internally admonishing himself. “I had no right to burden you with my mother’s faults. I was wrong not to trust you—not to believe in your inherent goodness and honesty.”
His words struck Annabel like a forceful gale and toppled her resolve. How could she continue to be in this house or at the ladies’ college and lie? How could she deceive Henry that way after what he’d just told her? She couldn’t bear it. Either she’d have to tell the truth or disappear and become someone else, yet again.
Chapter Nineteen
Farewell to thee! but notfarewell
To all my fondest thoughts ofthee:
Within my heart they still shalldwell;
And they shall cheer and comfortme.
—Anne Brontë,Farewell
Although Anne acceptedHenry’s apology with grace and kindness, he knew it was too late—the damage had been done—and he wasn’t able to untangle the knots he’d made in their relationship. She’d remained guarded throughout their conversation, and despite his confession as to how he felt about her, he could not recapture the intimacy they’d shared earlier that afternoon.
He could not lay the blame at her feet. She had no reason to trust he would not hurt her again. He’d lived in limbo for two years, thrown off balance by the question of his paternity and the lies his mother had enforced on him. He’d gone from carefree and confident to a trespasser in his own life. But worst of all, he’d become suspicious of others and mistrustful of love. She was better off without him.
And then, there was Nate. Perhaps he felt it his duty to ensure that his deceased friend’s wife stayed loyal. They’d appeared to have quarreled—at least, that is how it’d looked to him. Had Nate made her feel guilty? Had he accused her of being disloyal to her husband’s memory and not letting enough time pass? She no longer wore mourning attire, so at least two years must have passed since her husband’s death. Yet, she said her heart was not ready. But was it her heart, or Nate’s judgment?
Yet, she allowed me to kiss her, and she kissed me back.
But her heart is not ready.
The confusion and doubt that played on Anne’s face ate at him.
She isn’t ready, and neither am I. And I won’t force either of us. We both have things to work through.
“I’ve made a decision,” he said.
She blinked as if pulled from her thoughts.
“I’ll be returning to my estate in Sevenoaks tomorrow.”
“You mustn’t leave on my behalf! This is your cousin’s home. I shall leave—”
“I’m not leaving because of you,” he said gently. “I must see to a few things on my estate, and then I have business to attend to in London.”
She lowered her gaze but said nothing.
