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It wasn’t until they had returned Sophie to her home that he was able to put his arms around his wife and ask her what was wrong. Since she visibly flinched when he touched her, he knew it was serious, and he felt both a pang and a spurt of anger that someone had hurt her.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked.

She tried to smile and failed. Shaking her head, she said quietly, “Wait until we get home.”

So, he was forced to wait until they were finally alone in the library, where she led him. Which had him very alarmed. This was serious.

She stopped before the fireplace, her hands clasped tightly at her waist over her green satin-and-net ball gown. She turned resolutely toward him and said quietly, “Tell me about Charis Dunsenay.”

He stifled a groan. I knew this moment would come, didn’t I? How could he have fooled himself that she wouldn’t hear something about it from some malicious or indeed innocent source? He had a moment to regret not telling her himself. But he had hoped against hope that the past would stay buried. After all, Rob hadn’t told her, and he could have. But he had chosen to protect her—as Jerome had—from something that would hurt her. And he had to acknowledge he’d been protecting himself as well. Have I been a coward? Probably. Almost certainly.

She was holding herself very still, and he marveled at the change in her. Normally she would be impatient, demanding explanations. But here she stood, still and waiting, her expression carefully controlled. Only her clenched hands gave away her inner agitation.

“Come and sit down,” he said gently, holding out his hand to her.

She hesitated a moment and then put her hand in his and let him lead her to the couch where they sat, and he kept hold of her hand. He needed the anchor of her touch while he searched for the right way to tell her something which had haunted him for eight years.

“Charis Dunsenay is—was—the daughter of Lord and Lady Mostyn. She was eighteen when I knew her, not yet out.”

Ava’s indrawn breath was audible, and her hand jerked in his hold at this; he tightened his grip to prevent her pulling away.

“I was invited to their estate for some hunting with a party of others in the summer of 1812. I was twenty-six. Ravenshaw wasn’t habitable at that time. I generally didn’t visit it except to meet with my steward and would stay in the local hostelry if I did.” He paused, trying to steady his pulse. Recalling the events of that summer brought him out in a cold sweat and made him feel physically ill.

He breathed and went on doggedly. “Charis was an excellent rider to hounds and her father let her join us for the hunt. It became rapidly obvious to me that she was”—he paused, looking for the right word—“interested in me.” He flushed uncomfortably. “In those days, it was not uncommon for young women to attempt to attach me, and I’d adopted a rather ruthless method of dealing with it. That is what gave me such a dangerous reputation.”

Ava was watching him steadily and said quietly, “It never stopped, did it?. I’ve seen them throw themselves at you over the past two years.”

His lips twisted in a grimace. “Not as much as when I was younger. My method was supposed to discourage them. It seemed to have the opposite effect. The more dangerous I was said to be, the more they tried.” He sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. “Charis was quite bold, and I didn’t realize how young she was at first. I thought she must have been at least twenty.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Very.” He swallowed. “A petite, blue-eyed blonde.”

“Oh!” Ava’s calm expression cracked, and she flicked wide troubled eyes at him.

“The house party stretched over two weeks, and despite not being officially out, Charis was allowed to mix with the guests as if she were. She had ample time to—pursue me.” He grimaced. “I confess I didn’t discourage her. It was obvious to me that her campaign had her parents’ approval, if not outright contrivance. Her father’s and my estates run parallel. A marriage between me and Charis would bring the two together and enhance them both. What I didn’t know at the time was how dire his financial situation was.”

“So they targeted you?”

“Yes, I believe so, although it is a hard thing to prove, and given what happened later—but I’m getting ahead of the tale.” He took a breath and plowed on. “At the end of the two weeks the other guests departed, but I had been persuaded to stay on one more night. That night, I woke to find Charis in my bed, naked.”

Ava jerked. “Were you drunk?”

“Not particularly. I’d had some wine with dinner and a couple of glasses of port I think, afterward, but no, I wasn’t drunk.”

“Did you kiss her?” Ava’s voice had a hollow sound, and he tightened his grip on her hand.

“Not then, but I had earlier.” He paused again, recalling his feelings on waking to find the young woman in his bed. “It was then that I fully realized the lengths my hosts were prepared to go to, to trap me. It was imperative I got Charis out of my bedchamber as quickly as possible, but of course the whole thing had been planned down to the last detail, and I was barely awake and aware of what was going on before her father charged into the room full of righteous indignation, demanding that I make an honest woman of his innocent daughter.” He shook his head.

“I was angry—furious, in fact—and I refused. I dressed, packed my bags, and left the house that night to stay the rest of the night at the local inn. I knew I was in trouble, for the other guests had seen ample evidence of a flirtation between myself and Charis. I’d let my anger blind me to the realities of the situation. Dunsenay only had to reveal that I had seduced his daughter—and no one would believe I hadn’t in the circumstances—and my reputation as a gentleman would be ruined. Realizing this, I returned the next morning to tell Dunsenay I would marry Charis, only to find the house in an uproar, for Charis had vanished in the night.”

“Oh! What happened to her?” Ava was by now caught up in the story with him, her hand clutching his tightly.

“Dunsenay and I immediately set out to try to find her. We split up. He went north, and I went south along the coast. His property, like mine, reaches to the sea. He was convinced she would have gone to the shore. She loved the sea.”

He stopped and closed his eyes.

“I found her.” These were the memories he had fought so hard to suppress. “She was standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea. I called to her, and at first she didn’t hear me, I think, over the wind and the sound of the sea. She was wearing a cloak over her thin gown, but she was cold, visibly shivering. I dismounted from my horse and approached her. She heard me then and turned to look at me. Her face was pale, and I knew she had been crying.