‘He overdosed on tablets and drank himself to death. My father was twelve.’
‘Shit. I’m so sorry.’ I move my foot closer to his leg so we’re touching.
‘There’s more.’ He covers my foot with his hand. ‘His grandfather got into gambling debt and hanged himself.’
‘Oh,Ash.’
‘It was all hushed up, of course,’ he continues with a sigh. ‘A stroke might’ve taken my father out in the end, but he wasn’t healthy. He drank too much, his blood pressure was sky-high. He told me that he needed to fuck other women torelaxhimself.’ His tone has grown bitter, but his thumb has started making slow circles across the top of my foot. ‘Hugo was the same, but he also got his relief by being reckless.’
‘Was his death definitely an accident?’ I ask cautiously.
He nods. ‘My brother was too narcissistic to take his own life. But the point is, the pressure was too much for them.Allof them. My father thought that by telling me about my grandfather and great-grandfather, it would stiffen my resolve and I’d get on and do my duty, and he was right. But not in the way he was expecting.’
His tone has softened a little. He curves his hand around the back of my ankle and lifts my foot to lay it in his lap. My insides feel jittery, but I rest my head back on my chair, watching him, waiting for him to go on.
‘I didn’t sell the house because I couldn’t handle the pressure, or because I wanted the money. I wasn’t weak or desperate like my mother and the society press made out. But even if I knew I could’ve handled the responsibility myself,why the hell would I want to pass on that legacy to my kids?’ He shakes his head and meets my eyes. ‘Somebody had to say enough was enough.’
My heart is so full of love for him right now.
‘Wow,’ I murmur, lifting my head. ‘That must have taken so much courage.’
He maintains our eye contact.
‘I wish I’d been there for you through all of that.’
‘I wish you had been too,’ he says. ‘Anyway.’ His tone changes, grows a little lighter. ‘You don’t have to worry about Beca any more. Her interest in me went along with my title.’
‘Bullshit.’
He raises an eyebrow at me.
‘You don’t just fall out of love with someone because they’re no longer a viscount,’ I say. ‘Especially when that someone is you.’
He lets out a small laugh before his expression grows serious and he tries to explain. ‘Beca grew up in a big house with a title of her own – that was the lifestyle she felt comfortable with. This sort of thing would have scared the shit out of her.’ He waves his hand at our surroundings. ‘When I needed to escape to the cabin or out on the bike, she’d get spooked. She felt as though she didn’t really know me. And honestly? She didn’t.’ He sighs. ‘I’m not saying she doesn’t still care about me, but her feelings are a hundred per cent platonic. My title, and all the responsibilities that came with it, was the part of me that Beca understood. Without it, I’m no longer someone she could see herself growing old with.’
‘Does any part of you regret it?’
‘What, selling the house?’ he asks.
‘Yes, and revoking your title.’
He shakes his head. ‘It’s a relief to know that the house is in safe hands. The National Trust will look after it and that makes me proud.’
I love hearing him talk like this. ‘What about your title?’ I ask. ‘Why did you do that, by the way? Was it something you had to do when you sold the house?’
‘No, it was a choice. I didn’t need it, didn’t want it.’
‘What if your kids do?’
‘Then I won’t have done a very good job at parenting.’
I grin at him.
His eyes crinkle.
I lean forward and touch my hand to his bristles. ‘I can’t see your smile unless you show me your teeth.’
He throws his head back and laughs. The sound makes me feel so light-headed.
