“Not at first,” she said. “I dreaded his visits. One day I ran away before he visited, but Mr. Arnold found me and gave me a thrashing.”
She shifted in her seat. Dexter maintained his gaze on her, and she looked away, unable to look into his clear blue eyes.
“When the weather was bad, he came in the carriage and brought a footman with him. Compared to the old man who hated me, Georgie made me laugh. He slipped me a note one visit, then we started meeting in secret.” She blinked back tears. “He was the first person to show me kindness, to treat me like I was someone—not an inconvenience to be hidden away. I fell in love with him, and I believed he loved me.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I thought he wanted to marry me, but after I…” she hesitated, “…after I gave myself to him, he never visited me again.”
“Did he not accompany Alderley?”
“No,” she said. “I looked forward to every visit, praying Georgie would come. But he didn’t. Then…” she swallowed and closed her eyes, “…when I began to feel sick, I realized I was pregnant. I went to the big house to find Georgie.”
“And did you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “He said the child could be anybody’s, and he threw me out. Then, the next day, he came.”
“George?”
“No, my father.” She cringed at the memory. “I thought he was going to kill me! Georgie had gone to see him, asking for money.”
“And—the child?” Dexter asked.
She closed her eyes, searching for the memory, but the years had eroded the image of her child’s sweet face from her mind.
“I called him Billy,” she said. “I held him in my arms the day he was born, and for a brief moment, nothing else in the world mattered. There was only him. And me.”
“Where is he?”
Meggie lifted her head and met her husband’s gaze. “He died,” she said, “so you needn’t be concerned about my bastard child disgracing your good name. He can’t shame you from beyond the grave, can he?”
He shook his head. “Meggie, I’d never say such a thing.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
This time it was he who lowered his gaze.
“Alderley came and took my baby,” she said. “He said I was a whore, unfit to look after the child, and if I defied him, he’d send me to an asylum.”
She bit her lip, taking comfort from the physical pain. “I never saw my Billy again,” she said. “Shortly after Alderley took him, he sent me to Blackwood Heath. A month after I arrived, he came to tell me Billy had died of the ague. I asked him if I could visit his grave, but he refused. My son had been placed in a pauper’s grave. He said it was the best place for a shameful secret.”
Dexter cursed. He rose to his feet, and his powerful frame towered over her.
“How old were you when it happened, Meggie?”
“I was fifteen.”
“Dear God!”
“I thought I loved Georgie,” she said. “I would never have…given myself to him if I hadn’t. I-I should have told you the day of our wedding, but neither of us wanted this marriage, and you were already so angry! Then, when you said about Daisy, about how no reasonable man would accept a woman who’d had another man’s child…”
She shook her head. “My child died,” she said. “What good would come of telling you about him? You just would have been one more person who wished he’d never been born.”
His hand clasped hers, and he caressed her skin with his thumb.
“Do you wish he’d never been born, Meggie?”
“No!” she cried. “I wish he’d lived.”
“Oh, Meggie,” he said, “I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me.”
“Why would I?” she asked. “You were so angry.”
“Not at you, my love. I’m angry at that bastard Hanson and myself. I haven’t done enough to win your trust. But, if you permit me now, I’ll take the first step.”
He lowered himself onto one knee.
“Will you come home, Meggie?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Meggie, you did nothing wrong. You were a child who was taken advantage of. As for your concealing the truth from me—I am to blame for that. But come home with me now, and I’ll do everything I can to atone—to prove how much I love you.”
He glanced at the brass implement in her hand.
“You can hit me with that if it makes you feel better.”
She lifted the candlestick and inspected it. He straightened and opened his arms in invitation.
“Go on,” he said. “It’s the least I deserve.”
“You’d let me hit you?”
“You may do anything you wish if it makes you happy.”
She struggled to stifle a smile, and his eyes lit up. “Ah!” he cried. “The idea appeals. And, as you can see, Mrs. Pelham’s carpet is a lovely red color, so you can beat me to a pulp with that glimstick without upsetting the décor.”
She loosened her grip on the candlestick, which fell to the floor, and he covered her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.
“I’ve always looked down on those who are afraid,” he said, “for I believed that to show fear is a weakness. But, tonight, when I thought I’d lost you…” He shook his head. “I’d never imagined what it would be like to be so afraid that you cannot breathe, that your body feels like a thousand daggers are piercing it. And the shame that I was the reason for your flight.”
He closed his eyes, and his body shuddered as he drew breath. When he opened them again, they glistened with moisture.
“Come home, Meggie,” he whispered, “for I cannot live without you.”
She curled her fingers round his. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll come home.”
***
The next morning, Meggie woke, safe and warm in her husband’s arms. Last night he’d taken her home in the Pelhams’ carriage and carried her upstairs, not stopping until they reached her chamber. He’d slipped in beside her and held her chastely in his arms while she drifted into sleep.
Some of her burdens had lessened—as if having spoken of it, she’d peeled off a layer of pain.
“Good morning, my love.” His face swam into view, and he rolled her over and placed a kiss on her lips.
“Did you sleep well?” He smiled. “Judging by the amount of Pelham’s brandy you consumed, I’m not surprised.”
“If I recall, you partook of plenty yourself.”
“It was only proper to accept his hospitality after imposing on him,” he replied. “Besides, his terrier of a wife needed reassurance that I wasn’t going to carry you home over my shoulder and tie you to this bed.”
A wicked grin spread across his face. “Of course,” he said, “I’m still disposed to consider it if you ask nicely. I can put my neckties to good use.”
A pulse of longing throbbed deep in her center, and he gave her a knowing smile.
“We can explore that idea another time,” he said. “But for now, I should rise. I can hear James scratching about next door. He’ll be wondering what I did with my clothes.”