He self-consciously withdrew his hand. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“If you think it will help to find him. I heard Timothy, the footman, was working with him.”
“I carted that blighter off to jail. He confessed to everything.”
“Good. I never want to see him again.”
“Neither do I.”
Regina lowered her voice to a whisper. “I haven’t told Nicole everything, Daffin. Not the things he said… about you.”
“Me?” Daffin moved forward to sit on the edge of the chair. “What did he say?”
She traced a fingertip along the bedspread. “He said you weren’t who I thought you were.”
Daffin glanced away.
“He said your name isn’t Oakleaf.”
Daffin remained quiet for several seconds before dropping his gaze to the floor and saying quietly, “It’s true.”
Regina narrowed her gaze on him. “Who are you, Daffin?”
Daffin leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees. He expelled a breath. “Oakleaf isn’t the name I was born with. I changed it after school.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted nothing to do with my father.”
She shook her head. “His name was Quinton, Daffin, and he knows you. He said as much.”
“Yes. He knows me. And I know him.” Daffin’s jaw turned to rock. “His name is Quinton Knowles.”
Regina frowned, but nodded. “How do you know him?”
“He is the man who killed my mother.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Regina took a deep breath. After everything they’d been through, it was time for Daffin to open up to her. She refused to let him change the subject this time. “Tell me, Daffin. Tell me the truth about your mother’s murder.”
His eyes were jade-hard. “It is a complicated story.”
She settled back against the pillows and pulled the blanket to her chin. “I just happen to have plenty of time.”
He leaned forward in the chair, scrubbed a hand across his face, and let out a long, deep breath. Regina studied his face. She knew telling the story would cost him something. His mother’s murder had shaped the life of this gorgeous, enigmatic man. How had it happened?
He faced her. “My mother was a beautiful woman. She had many admirers.”
“I can imagine.” Regina watched his profile. The tiny lines by his eyes indicated his pain. Was he ashamed because his mother had taken lovers? Many married women in thetondid.
“I found her body at the bottom of the staircase in our house,” Daffin said abruptly. Though his tone was flat, matter-of-fact, the stiffness of his spine and shoulders spoke of deep agony.
Regina sucked in her breath. Dear God. He’d been the one to find his mother’s dead body? She couldn’t imagine anything worse. “On Christmas Eve?” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
“No. On Christmas Day.” He glanced at her and away again, his lashes leaving shadows on his cheeks as he stared at the fire in the grate. “I’d raced down the steps to get the Christmas cookies our cook usually left for me on Christmas morning.”
The tears spilled down Regina’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, Daffin.”
