Page 35 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

He took another swallow of his brandy. He devoutly hoped not.

‘Of course he would not have,’ she stated emphatically, as if she would brook no argument on that subject. ‘So that proves you are not at all like your father but are indeed my knight in shining armour, as I have said.’

No, not that again. Would he ever disabuse her of that misguided notion? ‘All I have done is offer to use a small portion of my father’s immense wealth to right one wrong. It is hardly worth mentioning and proves nothing.’

‘It proves you are not like your father,’ she repeated, her voice almost defiant.

He drew in a long breath, determined to make her understand. ‘Sometimes I think I’m even worse than him. At least he was honest about what a monster he was. He made no excuses for his behaviour and never tried to justify it. I spent my early life living a lie, and every day I remain in my father’s house I’m reminded of the indulged boy who was oblivious to the horrors that surrounded him. I can’t stop thinking about how my poor gentle mother passed away when I was eight, only ever knowing that her self-entitled son was one day going to grow into a monster just like her husband.’

He placed the glass on the side table. ‘Not to mention all those other women he harmed. Women I did nothing to help.’

‘So you think that selling the house and going back to America will make you forget your father and feel better about yourself?’ she said, her voice surprisingly matter-of-fact.

He looked over at her, unsure what she was talking about.

‘You’ve been made aware of the suffering of others and have felt their pain. I know exactly what that is like. Every time I hear of an animal suffering, I feel it like a physical ache deep inside me.’ She placed both hands over her heart. ‘I desperately want to save it, but so often I can’t. It hurts terribly, and the only way I can ease the pain gripping me is by helping all the animals I can save.’

She sighed deeply and put her hands down. ‘Maybe selling the house will drive out those memories, but I suspect you will just take them back with you to America.’

On that he was in complete agreement. He had not shaken off the memories of his father during the ten years he had been away, but he still wanted get rid of the house that was like a millstone around his neck.

‘Maybe, instead, you should try and right the wrongs your father perpetrated, and in doing so you will also help to ease your own pain.’

He huffed out another humourless laugh. If only it was that easy. ‘My father didn’t exactly keep records of all the women he hurt or list the children he fathered. There is no way I can right any of his wrongs.’

‘No, but you can help other women and children in similar circumstances, just as I do when helping abandoned and mistreated animals.’

He stared at her as he took in her words. Slowly, the implications of what she was saying penetrated the gloom that always surrounded him whenever he thought of his father. He had believed Primrose naive and unworldly. He was wrong. She was showing him a way to free himself of the burden of self-recrimination, one he had not considered before.

‘I could donate my father’s house to a charity that helps women and children in need,’ he said, the perfect solution dawning on him. Now that she had suggested it, it was so obvious he could hardly believe he hadn’t thought of it before.

This caused her to smile, a gloriously warm smile of approval and support. ‘I’m sure all those children would love living next door to a menagerie of animals.’

‘Primrose, I believe you might just be a genius.’

Her smile grew wider. ‘Lucian, I think you might be right.’

He stood up and walked over to the windows, suddenly feeling light and buoyant and so full of energy he couldn’t remain seated a moment longer. ‘We could do so much good for so many women and children. We could transform their lives.’

Primrose joined him at the window. ‘With a house full of children next door, I’d have no problem finding homes for Clawdia’s kittens.’

He laughed at the prospect. ‘There would be a certain satisfaction in my father’s townhouse being used to shelter women and children in difficult circumstances, mostly caused by men like him.’

She looked up at him, placing her hand lightly on his arm. ‘And you will finally be free of him.’

He sighed. ‘You’re right. It’s perfect. I’ve been carrying around so much guilt for so many years, and now, thanks to you, I suddenly feel so light, so free.’

She laughed. ‘Like you’re floating on air? That’s how I feel now that I know Cousin Jasper can’t win.’

‘Like this?’ Joining in with her laughter, he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her up high in the air, so she was seemingly floating, just as she had imagined, and together they whirled around the room.

‘You really are a miracle worker, Miss Primrose Fairburn,’ he said, amazed that he could suddenly be free of a burden that had been weighing him down all these years.

They came to a halt. He lowered her to the ground, his hands still around her waist. Their laughter stilled, but they continued to smile at each other.

‘You are so precious,’ he murmured, gently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear that had come loose during their spinning. ‘Like an exquisite, rare gem.’

Before he had time to think, before reason and sense could stop him, he bent down and kissed her lovely lips.