Page 89

Will he shut me out again?

Instead, he finally stopped beside the window and looked out over the quiet grounds.

"I had a twin," he said. "He was born first. Then I was born, and my mother died because of me."

Olivia's heart clenched. James continued, his voice growing harder as though he were repeating words that had been carved into him long ago. "My father told me that I had made my brother weak in the womb. He said that if I had not taken what belonged to him, my brother might have survived. From the moment I could understand him, I was taught that I had killed my brother and my mother."

Olivia could hardly breathe as she listened. Suddenly, the cold duke she had known seemed to disappear, and in his place stood a little boy who had never been given the chance to understand that his mother's death was not his fault, nor this brother's.

"You were a baby," she whispered, rising from her chair.

James turned toward her, his jaw tight. "My father believed I carried a curse. I came to believe it too. That is why I never wanted children of my own. I could not bear the thought of putting an innocent child in danger because of whatever was wrong with me. I cannot pass that down to them."

Olivia walked toward him and gently took his hand, surprised when he allowed her to hold it. "Would you blame Felix for being abandoned by his parents?" she asked softly.

James looked at the sleeping baby and shook his head. "Of course not."

"Then why do you blame yourself for something you had no control of as a child?" Olivia asked, squeezing his hand.

The question hung between them, and James looked down at their joined hands as though he had never considered the matter from that direction.

Olivia felt tears prick her eyes, because she understood him more than she wanted to admit. Her own mother had taught her that she was difficult, reckless, unsuitable, and somehow less worthy than the daughter who behaved properly. James had been taught that he was responsible for a tragedy he could not possibly have caused. Different words, different families, but the same cruel lesson had been placed upon them both, that something about who they were made them undeserving of tenderness.

"My father never touched me with tenderness," James admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now. "Whenever I made a mistake, he would tell me that my brother should have been there instead. He said it whenever I failed, whenever I disappointed him, whenever I behaved like a child needing affection. He made me feel as though I had stolen a life that belonged to someone else."

Olivia's eyes filled, and she rubbed her thumb gently across his knuckles. "Parents can be cruel," she said. "I know that better than most. My mother spent years telling me I was a bad influence, and she separated Louiza and me because she believed I would somehow ruin her. For years, I thought perhaps she was right."

James looked at her then, really looked at her, and Olivia felt something shift inside her.

Perhaps that was why I had been so desperate for him to tell me the truth. I had not merely wanted to know what happened to his brother, I wanted to understand the man I have married.

She was beginning to see that James's coldness had been built rather than born, just as her stubbornness and sharp tongue had been shaped by years of defending herself.

"It seems we are both rather unfortunate products of our parents," she said with a small, crooked smile.

James's mouth twitched, and for the first time that morning, the heaviness in the room eased.

"That may be the most flattering description of us I have ever heard."

Olivia laughed softly, and the sound surprised them both. "Well, Your Grace, you have married a woman who is very generous with compliments."

He looked down at their joined hands, then back at her. "And apparently I have married a woman who asks inconvenient questions that make me reveal more than I wish to."

Olivia smiled. "You shall have to become accustomed to me."

"I believe," James replied, his thumb moving gently over her hand, "I already am."

For once, Olivia did not wonder whether he meant it. She simply smiled, because after all the secrets and misunderstandings, they had finally given each other something far more valuable than certainty.

The truth.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next afternoon, Olivia sat in the parlor with a cup of tea resting upon the little table beside her. She had been attempting to read, though she had managed only a few pages in nearly half an hour, because her thoughts kept wandering.

She still thought about his confession, the knowledge that James had spent his entire life believing himself responsible for his brother's death had lodged painfully in her heart, and she found herself wanting to protect him from the ghosts of his childhood almost as fiercely as she wanted to protect Felix.

"Then there is the wedding to think of," she mumbled to herself.