Her mind stopped. She blinked as confusion flared again. She’d read about what had happened years ago. “Renard, your parents died in a fire.”
“Istarted the fire.”
“You...” She shook her head, not bothering to entertain the idea. Renard had loved his parents. He would never have hurt someone he loved, not for anything in the world. “I won’t believe for a moment you did it intentionally. Therefore, it was an accident and not your fault.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Renard stared ather. His greatest and ugliest secret he’d buried for ten years of his life aired and the woman didn’t so much as gasp in scandalous outrage. Even Madam Clarice’s careful mask had slipped when he’d confessed. Camille had believed he’d killed two grown men in cold blood—which had stung, bled like a fucking knife to the chest—but the suggestion of murdering his parents and the woman dismissed it with a wave of her hand.
He shook his head. “You can’t know that.”
“Then explain it,” Camille said, her expression open, patient. “What possible reason would you have to trap the duke and duchess in a burning stable?”
“Of course I didn’t trap them! But I started the fire, they went inside, and... didn’t come out.” Foolishness and naivety. When the flames had gotten out of control, he’d had this unmistakable moment of understanding, as if his childhood had been scorched from his body with the rest of the wood and straw.
“What were you doing?”
Renard came out of his thoughts at Camille’s impatient tone. “Huh?”
“When the fire started, what were you doing?”
Shame turned the blood in his body hot. And there it was. His self-loathing, his and his sister’s stolen innocence and strained relationship came down to one stupid act of rebellion.
His breath wasn’t steady, and neither were his next two. “I was smoking my father’s pipe. I’d stolen it from his desk and thought the stables would be deserted that time of day with the master and hands exercising four of the six horses in the pasture. And it was deserted, except for one other person.”
Claws of guilt ripped at his gut from the inside. If he’d known Charlotte was in the hayloft, he’d never have gone inside. He’d have gone to the lake or the woods, or any other quiet place.
It wasn’t until his parents had raced down at the first sign of smoke, rushing past the gawking servants and straight into the burning building that Renard had realized the extent of his folly, and what that folly may cost him.
“Does Charlotte know you’ve blamed yourself all these years?” she asked.
The thought of telling Charlotte made his stomach bottom out. “It won’t come to that.”
“She deserves to know, Renard. She believes you grew to view her as an obligation.”
“By design.” How could he ever allow himself to stay close to his innocent little sister? Not after what he’d taken from her.
He’d tell Charlotte one day soon. She deserved the truth. But right now, he needed the woman standing before him to know the truth. “Do you believe me, then? That I had nothing to do with those men’s murders?”Please believe me.
Her nod was slow in coming, but when her gaze once again found his, he saw she’d accepted his words.
“You didn’t hurt those men,” she said, expression brightening. Only for that light to vanish into horror. “You didn’t hurt those men,” she repeated. A choking sound came out of her throat. “I ran for nothing. My God, Renard, I am sorry. I thought... It doesn’t matter what I thought. I should have stayed and confronted you about my suspicions, but Ididrun and our son was lost because I—”
“Stop,” Renard said, cutting her off with an uncompromising tone. “There was nothing either of us could’ve done for our son. Don’t you dare take on the burden of our son’s death. You would’ve loved our child as I would’ve loved him. No.” He stated his feelings as fact. “Iloveour son. Affection doesn’t stop with death.”
Her eyes turned glassy. She nodded once. For a moment, she looked truly lost. “Everything has gotten so muddled.”
That it had. He could only imagine the hardships she’d had to go through the past year. Thinking he’d hurt people on her behalf, losing their child, living day to day not knowing where she belonged or how she’d live.
At least that worry he would correct here and now.
He wiped away a tear on her cheek. “After we marry and you are settled, I’ll turn myself in for my parents’ deaths.” He’d had many months to think about the consequences. He explained them now. “I’m sorry, my current heir will no doubt make staying in Lux estate impossible. You’ll most likely be banned from the premises, but I’m sure Hamish and Charlotte will look after you. And there are some funds I’ve set aside, with no ties to the title or properties. If you don’t wish to stay with our relatives, you could find a small cottage somewhere to rent. It won’t be the life of luxury you deserve, but you’ll be looked after all the same—”
Camille’s boot hit him square in the nose.
He looked down at the offending footwear. “Ow! Damn it.” He dabbed at his nose. Why the hell wassheangry? He was here to make everything right. “Women! Why must you always go for the face?”
“Because you are an idiot.” Camille struggled to get her second off.
