“My speech?” Christian moved around the table and sat across from her.
“Yes, what you say to a woman is as important as your eligibility and your aspect, I’m certain you’re aware.”
He cracked a grin. “You mean what I say to her when I’mnotstuttering?”
She waved a hand at him. “I’m beginning to doubt you’ve stuttered a day in your life.”
“I assure you, I have.” He glanced away.
Unconsciously, she reached across the table and touched the top of his hand with hers. “Tell me… why?”
Christian drew a deep breath. He didn’t pull his hand away. It felt comforting, her sitting there, touching him. When was the last time a woman other than his friends had touched him? And she seemed to genuinely care.
It’s not that he didn’t know why he stuttered. He remembered the day it had started. Would never be able to forget. But telling someone else? A woman? A beautiful woman? That was a different matter altogether. But even as he had the thought, he knew he was going to tell her. Because somehow here with Sarah at his hunting lodge, he wasn’t the shy stutterer whom the ladies in London knew. He was… comfortable.
“Please tell me,” she repeated, still touching his hand, her eyes meeting his.
“I was always a shy boy. Didn’t like to speak to strangers. Hid behind my mother’s skirts.” He chuckled.
Sarah smiled encouragingly. “It sounds adorable to me.”
“It drove my father mad, I assure you. He used to grab me and pull me out from behind Mother, insisting that I talk to whoever was visiting.”
Sarah nodded. “That must have been awful for you.”
“Excruciating. He’d yell at me also, right there in front of whomever he wanted me to speak to. ‘Say something, lad, don’t just stand there like a deaf-mute!’”
Sarah winced. “How positively horrid of him.”
“One day, he was meeting with potential governesses for me. I must have been no more than four years old. My current governess planned to marry and they needed to replace her. He called me down to his study, and when I poked my head in the door, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen before was sitting there, across from my father. Mind you, at the ripe old age of four, I hadn’t seen many women, but she looked like a goddess as far as I was concerned.” The ghost of a smile touched his lips.
“Don’t tell me. Your father yelled at you to speak.” Sarah shook her head sympathetically.
“I was frozen halfway in and halfway out of the door. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t say anything.
“‘There he is,’ my father said. ‘The little half-wit. You’ll have your hands full getting that one to speak.’”
“No!” Sarah’s hand squeezed around two of Christian’s fingers.
“Yes,” Christian replied. “And of course that made it all the more awful. ‘Come in now, Christian!’ he demanded. And when I didn’t move, he stood, stalked over to me, and pulled me by the ear inside the room to stand in front of the beautiful governess.”
Sarah gasped. “Why, I’d like to slap him. How could he be so unkind to a child?”
“It’s funny you should say that, because that’s exactly what he did. Slap me.”
“No!” Sarah’s hands flew to her cheeks and her eyes filled with tears.
“Yes. And he continued to slap me over and over again until I said something.”
“Oh, Christian, no.” Tears dripped from her eyes.
“Yes.” His jaw was tight. It was a memory he didn’t often allow himself to dwell on. It was one that made him feel as if the walls were closing in on him. But somehow, here, telling it to Sarah, he felt safe.
“I finally spoke,” he said. “But whatever I said—and I swear, to this day, I have no idea what it was—came out with a horrible stutter. A stutter my father promptly mocked.”
“I hate to say it, but I’m beginning to be glad your father is dead, too. I can’t imagine meeting such an awful man.”
“And that’s it,” Christian said, pushing back on the legs of his chair. “I’ve stuttered ever since. At least in the presence of beautiful ladies. Sometimes in front of men, too. Especially powerful ones. As I said before, your arrival was quite different. Something about a sword being drawn on me must have knocked me out of my habit.”
