Page 50 of Every Rogue Has His Charm

“How…how is it you happened to come here?” Caro asked. “All together? Without even sending word?” He could hear the tremor in her voice, but whether it reflected fear or fury was less clear to him. Either way, he foresaw a disastrous scene about to play out.

Damn Laughton and his worthless brood. Maxim had enough urgent matters to manage. Somehow, he needed to persuade General Scott that the warning he had brought from France must be heeded. More important, he wanted to repair his relationship with his wife. Now Caro’s family stood between him and those worthy goals.

Unless…dealing decisively with the Brents could be the first step toward repairing the trust he’d destroyed?

“May I suggest, my dear,” he said, settling a hand on Caro’s waist, “that we allow our guests to finish their meal, and then invite them to repair to the drawing room for this conversation? You must wish to freshen up.”

She glanced up and over her shoulder at him. Beneath the sun, beside the sea, her eyes had been flecked with green and gold. But now, the strain of the moment had dulled them to an ordinary brown.

No. Not ordinary. Nothing was ordinary about his Caro.

“Yes?” he prompted, tightening his grip on her hip.

As he’d hoped, his reassuring squeeze restored some of the warmth to her eyes and her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you.” Turning back to face her family, she inclined her head, every inch a duchess in spite of windblown hair and muddy hems. “By all means, finish your breakfast. We shall join you in the drawing room in half an hour.”

Maxim released her and motioned for her to precede him up the stairs. On the landing outside the door to her bedchamber, she hesitated. “There’s something you should know.”

He nodded for her to open the door and followed her inside. “I think I can guess what you’re going to say. Your family has been begging you for money, separately and together. And because the terms of our marriage settlements made it impossible for you to help them any other way, you’ve sent them every cent you could spare from your pin money. More than you could spare, in fact.”

Her eyes flared. “How do you know that?”

He walked past her toward the window and looked out at what had been a beautiful morning. “I found their letters in your writing desk, and I—I read them.” Sheepishly, he turned back to face her, not quite meeting her gaze. “The only defense I can offer is that I’ve been ferreting out secrets for more than twenty years, and old habits die hard.”

A frown wrinkled her forehead. “That was very wrong of you.” Then her brow cleared. “But honestly, I’m glad you know. It spares me from having to explain their weaknesses—or confess my own foolishness. Besides, it would be the rankest hypocrisy for me to fault you for prying in my desk, when I quite literally pried open a crate of your private papers.”

“Irrelevant,” he said, stepping toward her with outstretched hands. “I had no right to do anything of the sort, and I’m s— Bah!” He dropped his arms to his sides. “You were clever to forbid the word, Caro. It’s made me painfully aware of how many things I have to apologize for. But as I cannot say how sorry I am, I am determined to show you instead. If you will let me.”

“By managing my awful family?”

“As a start.”

“What do you mean to do to them?”

“What do you wish me to do? Toss them out on their rears? March them into the channel?” His attempt at a smile faltered. “Welcome them with open arms?”

“You would do that?”

Flexing his right hand, he watched the skin stretch over his knuckles. At present the sea was responsible for their battered and bruised condition, but God knew how many times in his life he’d split them open on another man’s face. “My instinct is to hurt them, because they’ve hurt you. But if punishing them would cause you pain…”

“I don’t know.” Her head sank. “I’m more afraid it might give me pleasure.”

Could any man alive better understand the heartsick discovery that the monster one most feared and hated might be oneself?

The difference, of course, was that Caro would never act on those monstrous impulses.

Before he could muster words of reassurance, she closed the gap between them in three rapid steps, laid her forehead against his chest, and threw her arms around his waist.

His heart stuttered. Following his childhood accident, he’d been desperate for comfort. Once his maman had gone, he had taught himself not to need it.

But in all his life, no one had ever sought comfort from him.

After a moment, and with slow, uncertain movements, he lightly encircled her in his arms. “T’en fais pas, ma chérie,” he breathed against her scalp. It will be all right, my dear.

Her whole body sagged against his. “When I was sick—delirious, perhaps, is the better word—I dreamed that you held me like this.”

Now his heart began to thud, hard enough that she must surely hear it, feel it. “J’y étais.” She turned her head enough to look up at him inquisitively. “It wasn’t a dream. I was by your side then. I’m here now. I’ll always be here.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a gentle smile. And in that expression, he saw something he’d never thought to see again: the first glimmerings of trust.