“Mama.” She put her hand to her mouth and covered a scream. “How could I have brought a killer’s nephew into this house? I married a slaver’s nephew.”
He hung his head. “Yes, Ester, that is true.”
“You lied to me, Bex. When Mama discovers this, she’ll toss you out. Don’t give her the trouble. You leave now.”
He stood up, his limbs still shaky. “I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry for that. I left my past behind. I put it away and became Arthur Bex. Now that you know, the past has nothing more to do with us.”
She shook her head. “The past is the best indication of the future.”
“I am not a slaver, Ester.”
“No, but that’s why you fight for abolition. Do you think your sacrifice makes up for all that was lost? Is that why you chose to marry a Blackamoor? Doesn’t it burnish your credentials? Wait until the world learns of your little wife. ‘Good for you, Bex,’ they’ll say, and won’t think another moment of those that were lost by theZhonda—all the pain, all the loss it caused.”
“It wasn’t like that. I wanted a wife who would believe in me, who could love me despite my past.”
She wiped at her face as sloppy tears fell, ones he couldn’t wipe away. He couldn’t touch her. Not now. She hated him…like he hated himself.
“Did it bring you some type of joy lying to the world about who you are? Did it make you feel special to trick me into marrying you, the daughter of an enslaved woman to the nephew of a slave-killer?”
“No. Ester, inside, I’m the same man you said you loved. The same man who cradled you in his arms last night. Does a name change that?”
“Lies do. Do you think I would’ve married you if I had known? I’m not a trophy to assuage your family’s guilt. I wouldn’t hurt my mother like this.”
He stood, turning away to the roaring fire. “Ester, I’m in love with you—funny, headstrong you. The fact that you are Blackamoor and I’m not did not matter to me.Youmatter. The hope of having someone to believe in me, to build a family with to replace the one I lost. That’s what I see when I look at you.”
But her gaze held loathing and contempt. “Bex, Bexeley. I’m a Blackamoor woman. A proud one. One who will not sweep a lie under the rug. One untruth begets another. I won’t live like that. I won’t be a bathtub woman who looks the other way. I need you to leave here.”
Her breath was ragged. She was as affected by him, by the love between them that couldn’t be denied, as he. “If you had known, you wouldn’t have married me, and I’d never have known true happiness. For that, I’ll never be sorry.”
“You didn’t give me the chance, Bex-Bexeley. I know the difference between an actor and a slaver. The man who deserves my love should’ve trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”
“I lost everything once because of the truth. Ester, I wasn’t prepared to lose you.”
“You have. If you’d told me, I could’ve chosen. We could’ve reasoned through this, but you took that from me. We married under false pretenses.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“The name on the certificate. Is it Bex or Bexeley?”
“It’s Bex. That is the name I have chosen, the name I am known by.”
“That is fraud, Oliver Arthur Bexeley.”
He turned and walked to the door. “Then you do have a choice. You can have this marriage dissolved, just as I suggested before we consummated it last night. You remember, Ester, being with me, loving me fully and completely. That’s what you said. Was that a lie?”
She sank into the tub, splashing water his way. “Go.”
“I’ll agree to whatever you want. I thought we were good together. I still believe that.” He put his hand on the doorframe and turned to look upon her one more time—wet glistening skin, tears flowing. “Ester, I can’t change the past, but I won’t let you enslave me to it. I’ve done that enough to myself. I should’ve told you, but this mistake doesn’t change a moment we spent together, or how I feel about you. Know that no man will ever treasure how your lips part when you smile, the crinkles in your forehead when you fret, or the low moan in your voice when you’re kissed well—not like me.”
“But who are you? What’s tomorrow’s lie?”
“The one I sign to annul this marriage and accept your wishes.” Gut shredding, Arthur left the room and plodded down the stairs.
Clancy stood at the entry. He picked up Arthur’s hat and held it out. “There’s a reporter here for you, a Mr. Phineas. He wants to talk about the fire, but I wouldn’t let him in.”
Arthur took the tall-crowned felt hat and slapped it on his head. “Tell Mrs. Croome and Mrs. Bex I’ll do my best to keep things out of the papers.”
The butler shook his head. “Actor people. You know she’s too good for the likes of you.”
