Page 99 of The Earl She Once Saved

“She believed she was saving me.”

Verity looked toward the tables, where her aunt was absent and therefore could not be blamed by the woman she had tried to protect.

“Roland was an Earl. He had charm. A house. A name.”

“And debts.”

“Those came later. Or rather, I learned of them later.”

Rafe’s mouth hardened.

“Did you agree?”

Verity looked at him. Rafe’s eyes held hers. There was no judgement in them, only an anger that seemed entirely on her behalf.

She swallowed. “When every other door has been closed, the one left open can resemble a choice.”

Rafe’s fingers closed around the cup until his knuckles whitened.

“You were given to him.”

“Yes.”

“And he took your mother’s money.”

“He poured it into promises of impossible profit. When it failed, he left.”

His nostrils flared. Verity looked away before the sight of his anger undid her.

“I meant to travel,” she said.

The admission came so softly she nearly lost it beneath the music.

Rafe’s grip loosened. “Where?”

“Everywhere.”

The answer made her feel foolishly young. She stared across the harvested field.

“I had seen Spain through smoke. France through rain and the back of an army wagon. I wanted to see the sea when there were no ships carrying wounded men across it. I wanted Italy, Greece, ruins that were old enough not to bleed.”

Her throat tightened.

“I wanted to wake in a place where no one needed anything from me.”

Rafe said nothing. His silence made room rather than closing it. Verity turned the glove over in her hands.

“Then there were creditors. Empty accounts. Farms without seed. Roofs that leaked and tenants who had nowhere else to go. Every year I thought perhaps the next would be easier.”

“And was it?”

“No.”

“But you stayed.”

“There was no one else.”

Verity’s fingers stopped moving.