Page 75 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

“No. Don’t. I can’t—” Annabeth stepped back. She could not explain how she felt, as if she would shatter if anyone breached the invisible wall around her. “Papa was a traitor. He helped the French.” She held her hand to her stomach, as if holding in the nausea that roiled within. “How could he? I honestly do not know which was worse, his terrible judgment, cowardice, and weakness on a night when he was deeply in his cups and accidentally took a man’s life. Or the deliberate deceit he committed for weeks, months—possibly years—when he knowingly hurt his family and his country. To commit treason—how could he do such a thing?”

“I imagine he thought he was protecting his family from scandal,” Sloane said soothingly.

“Protecting himself, you mean.”

“Yes, that, too. I’m sorry, Anna. I hoped you wouldn’t have to know.”

Annabeth froze. “You knew, didn’t you?” The guilt on Sloane’s face confirmed her guess. “You knew about him from the start.”

“Yes.” Sloane’s voice was flat, resigned. “I knew he was blackmailed by the French into giving them information. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what secret they had of his. I knew nothing of the accident.”

“Oh, so there was one thing you didn’t hide from me.” A fresh hurt slashed through her. “Why did you keep this from me? How could you say you loved me and not tell me the truth?”

“I did it because I loved you,” he shot back. “I knew how it would hurt you, and I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t allow it to ruin your love for your father. I couldn’t let you be scorned and shamed by everyone.”

“So you lied to me and I never suspected a thing...” Annabeth frowned. “You certainly had the skills to be a spy.”

“Blast it, Annabeth, I didn’t have a choice. It was better that you lose your faith in me than have your whole world shattered. I did what I had to do to protect you. You would have hated me either way.”

“What do you mean, ‘what you had to do’? Become a spy? Leave me?”

“Yes!” he thundered. “Do you think I wanted to leave you? Do you think I wanted to risk my life every day instead of being happy and content by your side? Do you think I enjoyed living a lie? It ripped my heart out to hurt you, to deceive you. But that was the only way to save your bloody stupid father.”

Annabeth stared. “What do you mean? How did you save Papa?”

“Asquith knew Winfield was giving the French information, and he was going to reveal it to the world unless I started working for him—unless I began smuggling and spying. I couldn’t tell you why I was haring off to become a spy without revealing the threat Asquith held over me—and that was precisely what I was trying to conceal. I knew you would hate me either way, whether I ruined your father in your eyes or broke off our engagement.”

“I wouldn’t have hated you for telling me the truth,” Annabeth protested.

“No?” The corner of his mouth twisted wryly. “How do you feel about me right now?”

“I’m angry because you lied to me, not because you told me the truth.”

He shrugged. “I was a boy, Anna. I—deep down I knew that marrying you was only a fantasy. Your family was against it, and they were right. I had no prospects. It would have taken me years to build up enough money to provide for you.”

“I would have waited for you.” A lump filled her throat. “You didn’t have faith in me.”

“I had faith in you. I didn’t have faith in happy endings.” Sloane sighed and ran his hand back through his hair. “Frankly, I didn’t expect to be alive for long—spying is not a healthy occupation—and what difference did it make if I left you then or a few weeks later?”

“It would have made a great deal of difference to me!” Her throat felt raw with unshed tears, but she felt somehow too stunned to cry. “I loved you, Sloane. You broke my heart, and you justify it by saying you didn’t want to hurt me?”

“The scandal, losing faith in your father—it would have shattered your world.”

“So instead you shattered it.” Tears filled her eyes, but she willed them back. She would not cry over him again. “You may not have believed we would marry, but I did. I believed in you. And that’s the belief you destroyed. I grieved over you, Sloane.” She thought of the dark nights spent lying awake, crying until she had no more tears. She thought of the lonely years, the constant dull ache of loss. “Every time people whispered about your treachery, every time Nathan cursed your name, it hurt me. I wanted to defend you, but I could not because you hadn’t loved me enough to tell me the truth.”

“No, it was never because I didn’t love you. You were all I wanted in the world. I would have done anything for you.”

“You didn’t respect me enough to be honest with me. What kind of love is that?”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference if I had told you. I would still have had to leave the country and work for Asquith because that was the price for his secrecy. You would have hated me for spoiling your bond with your father. You’d have lost both me and him.”

“I wasn’t a child that needed to be shielded from reality. I was a grown woman. I could have borne the knowledge about my father. It would have hurt, it still hurts now, but I’m here. I’m breathing. It hasn’t stopped me living. And as wildly angry as I am at him right now, I realize it won’t stop me loving Papa either. Even before all this, I knew he had faults, and I lived with them.”

“But the gossip would have been unbearable. People staring at you wherever you went, whispering about your family.”

“I wouldn’t have cared about the scandal. I never wanted the social whirl. I would have faced it just as I faced the scandal of you jilting me. Do you think there weren’t whispers about me then? Scandal would have been an easy burden compared to you risking your life.”

“No,” he said fiercely. “I would not have let that happen even if you had known about your father. I’d have done what Asquith wanted. I couldn’t have lived with myself otherwise.”