‘Not according to what my late father said. On the odd occasion he did mention his wife he did not refer to her in the most flattering of terms. Cold and heartless were among the more affectionate words he used to describe her. He never failed to rail against her for breeding such a useless son and feckless heir.’
Again, he punctuated this with a laugh, as if recalling an amusing anecdote, but there was nothing funny about this tale of neglect and cruelty.
Just as she had done, he had tried to make light of something that must have been painful, and that pain had presumably shaped him into the man he now was. And she was sure he would not want her to pry any further into areas he did not want to discuss. She could also tell he would not want words of comfort or sympathy from her, so she squeezed his arm gently and they continued to walk in silence, his revelation giving Margaret much to consider.
While she would never be so deluded as to think the Duke of Rosedale anything other than a libertine, it was apparent that he was a man who had suffered his own share of life’s cruelties and had not always lived the life of a pampered peacock, as she had first thought. However, that did not detract from the fact that he was a man with completely different values from her own, even if those appalling values might have been the result of a lack of love and guidance from the two people who should have cared for him when he most needed it.
Jacob never discussed his parents with anyone at any time, and was unsure why he had just done so with Miss Whitmore. Perhaps it was her candid nature that made him feel comfortable doing so. He knew she would not coo over him or shower him with false sympathy, the way so many women would if he discussed his unfortunate childhood.
Perhaps it was her openness about what she had suffered during her first Season that made him talk of things he usually did not even allow himself to think about. Or perhaps it was seeing her happy if slightly imperfect family that made him remember what his own had been like.
Jacob found it impossible to imagine growing up in a family where you were wanted and loved. Maybe if that had been his childhood, he would not have so recklessly pursued warmth and affection in the arms of a stream of women from the time he’d become a young man.
He shook his head. This was getting far too deep and he was in danger of overthinking things. Something else he never did.
Miss Whitmore was lucky to be part of a warm, loving family, even if she might not realise it. And yet having a loving family and a father willing to sacrifice himself for his daughter had not saved her from nearly becoming the victim of a scoundrel who preyed on the innocent for his own twisted gratification.
He had little doubt that she had been referring to the Earl of Covington as he knew of no other rogue who had suddenly departed for Australia. The man was beneath contempt. Jacob could recall many a time when Covington had boasted about young women he had deflowered, as if it were a sport at which he excelled. On more than one occasion Jacob had let the man know in no uncertain terms what he thought of him, but obviously to no avail as it hadn’t stopped him.
He hated to think that Miss Whitmore put him in the same class of men as that low-life. Anger at Covington was quickly overcome by a guilty little voice gnawing at his conscience. Was he not also using Miss Whitmore for his own ends, just as that scoundrel had done? Did it make it all right because it was mutually beneficial? And was it really? This engagement could be depriving her of the opportunity of meeting a man whom she did want to marry. A man who would be worthy of such a spirited and engaging young woman.
And she did deserve to be with a man who could love her and make her happy. A man who appreciated all she had to offer and wasn’t after some chit of a girl who would make a compliant wife, as his friend Henry and so many of the men who attended the Season were seeking.
If she met the right man, a man who knew how to give and receive love, a man unlike him, he could easily imagine her as a happily married woman and a protective, loving mother. She should not be denied that opportunity.
‘Miss Whitmore,’ he said, knowing he had to broach the subject of love and marriage, even though both those topics made him as uncomfortable as discussing his childhood.
‘Yes?’ she said, looking up at him.
He coughed to clear his throat. ‘I believe we should discuss the terms of our engagement.’
‘Terms?’ She frowned.
‘Yes, terms. And one term I believe to be important is that should you meet a man you wish to marry, this arrangement should not prevent you from doing so.’
‘I see,’ she responded, her voice terse. She walked on in silence, her head lifted high, her lips once again pursed tightly together, and he suspected she did not see at all. ‘Am I to take it that was a polite way of saying you wish to be free to associate with other women while we are pretending to be engaged?’ she finally said.
‘No,’ Jacob shot back. ‘You really do have a low opinion of me, don’t you?’
‘Do I?’ She frowned at him, as if challenging him to prove her wrong. Something he suspected might be beyond him.
‘Are you not the duke who has been linked with countless women, including several well-known actresses?’
That was well documented and required no answer.
‘Have you not been mentioned repeatedly in the newspapers as being part of the Prince of Wales’ Marlborough House set—a group known for its wild parties and salacious behaviour? Is it not correct that you are facing the possibility of being cited in divorce proceedings because your last lover was a married woman? And am I mistaken in saying—’
‘Yes, all right. That is all true. But—’
‘Well, then, as this engagement is not real it would be unreasonable of me to insist on fidelity on your part and no doubt pointless. I would, however, caution you to be more discreet in the future than you were with Baroness Winterborne, as my father’s threat was not an idle one.’
‘Have you finished listing my faults?’
She looked upwards as if in consideration. ‘Yes, for now.’
‘Good, because I meant what I said. During our engagement, should you meet a man with whom you develop an affection, I will raise no objection to you following your heart,’ he said in a stilted tone; this conversation was not a comfortable one.
‘Oh, I see,’ she said looking slightly abashed, and he hoped this time she really did see.
