“Your father.”
A sharp intake of breath, and she jerked her hand from his. “My father? What? I did not think you even knew him.”
“I do. I know him well.”
Reanna rubbed her forehead, and then her head snapped up. “You. You ruined him, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Killian was surprised she put it together so quickly.
“What did you do to him? Why? I have never heard how or why he was ruined, only that it happened.”
“This started long before I was born.” Killian ran his fingers through his hair. “My father had vices. Vices that brought him down to hell. He was a good man, a good father, a good husband. But he was addicted to gambling. Gambling on investments. Gambling at the tables. He tried time and again to stop, but he was addicted, and there are those that prey on men like him. Offer them riches. Cheat them. His desperation was taken advantage of. Debt after debt piled upon each other, and eventually, every tangible piece of the estate was lost to one man. Your father.”
“But that is money, Killian. You now have all the money you could ever need, and yet you did all you did to me because of money?” Her voice had grown weak.
Killian turned from her, eyes locked onto the rectangular patch of primroses across from them. “Had it only been a lost fortune, things would be different today. But it was not. Your father suggested to mine that death would be the most honorable way to clear the debts, to save the family. With complete ruin imminent, my father killed himself to avoid scandal—to avoid marring the family line.”
Her gasp was not a surprise. Killian could not bring himself to look at her. He did not want to see the pity he knew was in her eyes. Beyond himself, only two living people knew of his father’s suicide, Devin and Aggie. And now Reanna.
He stood from the bench, back to her. “It was then I started dreaming of my revenge against your father. I went into the military early, too early, was promoted from the ranks, met Devin, and eventually rebuilt a fortune, much to Devin’s credit and support.”
“So how did you ruin my father?”
Killian turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest, voice, factual. “It took years, but piece by piece, we ruined all of your father’s investments. Sometimes by proxy. Sometimes through acquaintances. Until all your father had left was his sizable investment in one of Devin’s shipping companies. And then we sank a ship, bankrupting the company.”
“You sank a ship?”
“We did. No one died. But it ruined the company. Your father was penniless, and he blamed, very publicly, Devin for it. Questioned his honor, which of course, Devin would not stand for.”
Killian paused, not sure if he should continue. Reanna was quickly turning pale, mouth slightly askew. But he promised her honesty.
He took a steadying breath, and continued.
“They were to duel, and I was to stand in for Devin. It had been the plan all along. But your father never arrived for the duel. Left town a coward. Ruined. And then six months later, you appeared in London.”
There was very little reaction in Reanna’s posture, and Killian wasn’t sure what that meant. He moved to sit next to her on the bench.
“You, I had not planned on, Reanna. I thought we had taken everything from him, every chance he had to ever live a comfortable life again. I did not think he would whore out his own daughter.”
She recoiled. “Whore me out? No, he would not.”
“He did. You came to London as his last hope. He had one thing left to sell. You.”
“No. He wanted me to have a season.” Her breath visibly sped, her hand gripping the edge of the bench as she leaned forward, curling against his words.
“Reanna, you came into town with a list in hand of eligible bachelors.”
“You knew that?”
“Of course we did. The list—did it consist of young, virile men?”
“No.”
“Did they all have money, lots of it?”
“Yes.”
“Were they, to a one, old, lecherous creatures?”
Eyes wide, she nodded.
“He whored you out, Reanna. I know it is hard to hear, but you were his last chance. The money you would have given him access to was his last desperate grab against becoming a pauper.”
She stood as her hand went to her chest, pressing back against the rapid rise and fall of her lungs. “And then you…”
“Yes. I have more money than all of those fools combined, and your father got greedy. He did not think twice about agreeing to our marriage. The solicitor I sent to him said he near drooled when he was told I was hoping for your hand in marriage.”
She staggered backward from him. “Oh, God. You never. You truly never even…liked me. Never even looked at me.”
Killian shot to his feet. “Reanna—”
“I was a pawn?”
There was no use in dishonesty. “Yes.”
“A tool used merely for revenge? The last pawn?”
“Yes, but—”
“No. Stop. I fell all the damn way in love with you, Killian. And you never even liked me.” Her hand flicked up, finger pointing. “You never once even saw me. All you saw was your revenge.”
She whipped away, taking a few steps, then spun, stalking back toward Killian. She stopped a step away from him, heaving, and kicked the table under the chess set hard, sending pieces flying and clattering to the cobblestone.
Her face cringed in pain, but it only stoked her fury. “I have spent half of a year trying to understand why you would hate me so. I changed everything—every damn thing—about myself, trying to please you. Trying to become interesting, the type of woman you could love. And you damn well never even saw me.”
“No, Reanna,” Killian interrupted her, voice low, hands clenching and unclenching. “I did see you. Our wedding night. Our wedding night, I saw you. And hell. It shook me to my very being. All my hate. Gone. Just like that. That one night threatened to take every intention of revenge I had and shred it.”
He swallowed the step between them. “I lived for more than twenty-five years in hatred. In planning revenge. And one night with you, and I forgot about it.” His arm flew up. “Considered giving up every thought I ever had on revenge. But I could not let that happen. I was too damn scared. Revenge was the only thing I breathed. Revenge was the only thing I was. I could not let that go.”
She took a step backward, spinning away from him. “Hell, Killian…I thought…I mean, I knew you must have had your reasons, but…” Her head angled to the sky, and Killian could see tears starting to fall. “I was nothing to you—ever. I am such an idiot. How could I have not seen that in you? How could I have loved you so much and never once seen the reality of what was before me?”
He stepped in front of her. “You are not an idiot, Reanna. I built a life where even I didn’t know what reality was. You were the first real thing I recognized in…in forever. You don’t understand—”
“I don’t understand what?” Her wet eyes narrowed on him. “That you could possibly be an even lower person than I thought you were? That your own self-righteous vengeance would allow you to—without a second thought—destroy me?”
“No, that was never the case.”
“That was exactly what happened. You destroyed me. And do not try to tell me you did not know what you were doing. I begged you. Begged you. I was on my goddamn knees in front of you, Killian.”
His eyes closed, her words slicing through his chest.
“You did all of this without any regard to who got hurt in the process.” Her head shook. “It makes me sick to think I was blind enough to love you. Stupid enough to marry you.”
“Reanna—”
“It is time for me to leave this place, Killian. I want nothing more to do with you.”
Before he could reply, she spun away from him.
Head high, she walked out of the garden.
{ Chapter 18 }
Killian staggered into Devin’s study, squinting in the low light
and fighting the bleariness in his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of Devin’s long legs straight out in front of him, back arched on the sofa, the baby sleeping soundly on his chest. Devin’s hand covered the full length of the baby’s back.
Killian turned to escape the room. Even in his current inebriation, he was not willing to disturb the tranquil scene.
“Stop. Don’t make me speak above a whisper.”
Killian’s foot stopped mid-air, and he looked over his shoulder at Devin.
Devin waved him over with his free hand, pointing to a wingback chair across from the sofa. Killian shuffled silently into the room, slumping into the chair.
Devin eyed him for a moment. “I know that look. I assume your driver must still be under strict orders to deliver you here when you ask to hit a gaming hall?”
Killian nodded, not meeting his eyes.
“So what would have driven you to your current depths?” Devin’s voice remained a whisper.
“I told her.”
Devin’s eyebrows arched, but he didn’t say a word. After a minute, he shifted his feet close to the sofa, and stood, leaning back so his solid hold on the baby didn’t waver. He walked over to Killian. “Here, hold him.” Devin tilted the boy backward on his hands, holding him out to Killian.
Killian held his hand up in refusal.
“Hold him. It will sober you.”
“He will not wake?”
“Doubtful. He has kept both Aggie and the nanny up for the past twenty hours. But he has been fast asleep for an hour. I doubt the ringing of Bow Bells could awaken him—but keep your voice low for good measure.”
Killian held his hands out, taking the baby, and mimicked Devin’s earlier posture, leaning back in the chair and settling the baby on his chest. The smallest sigh and twitch, and the baby settled, cheek on Killian’s heart.
Devin was right—the baby’s tiny sweet puffs of breath were completely sobering.
Devin walked over to the sideboard and pulled two glasses, setting them in front of the decanter of brandy. He poured the first glass, then glanced quickly over his shoulder at Killian. He set the second glass back to its proper place, empty, then picked up his own, taking a healthy swallow as he turned and walked back to sit across from Killian.
“He is a wonder,” Killian said.
“He has a name now. Andrew Theodore Stephenson.”
“For your great-grandfather. Well done.”
Devin took another sip. “What did you tell her? Everything?”
“Most of it.”
Devin’s head tilted. “Your mother?”
Killian shook his head. “No.”
“And her reaction?”
“She hates me.”
“Did you expect anything less?”
Killian paused, mulling that question. “No, I suppose not.”
“So what will you do now?”
“Nothing. She wants nothing more to do with me.”
“And you are just going to accept that?”
Even with the baby on his chest, Killian managed a shrug. “What else can I do?”
“I think it is time to review.” Devin leaned back, tossing an arm along the top of the sofa. “You spent the last fourteen years of your life plotting the downfall of one man, not to mention the years of dreaming about it before that. You never once reversed course, never gave up, never contemplated defeat. And you succeeded. Now, in this moment, you are facing a wife with a heart the size of the ocean, and one little setback, and you are done? I must say, a tad weak, my friend.”
Killian’s eyes narrowed on Devin. “I destroyed her. Time and again. Do not underestimate the damage I have done. I am nothing in her eyes.”
A smirk fell onto Devin’s face. “You may have destroyed her, but you also fell in love with her, didn’t you?”
Killian let his head fall backward, looking at the coffered ceiling. “It does not matter. I am not worthy of her.”
“Debatable.”
“I do not know what convoluted mind would debate that.”
Devin shrugged as he stood and poured himself another glass. “My convoluted mind, for one. Aggie’s convoluted mind, for two.” He turned back to Killian. “Anyone that knows the whole story—your whole story. Which, when truly told, includes your mother, as well.”
Killian’s eyes went down to the dark fuzz on the top of the baby’s head. He moved his free hand to caress the tiny hairs sticking up, surprised by the soft smoothness of babe’s head.
“I went too far with her. Her anger runs deep.”
“I have found that anger is a good thing sometimes, at least when it comes to my wife. It means she is paying attention. Those moments Aggie is the angriest with me, always precede the moments she loves me the most. Anger means Reanna is still engaged with you. It is something to work with.”
“Aggie is stubborn—how do you even begin to erase her anger?”
Devin smirked. “I am not at liberty to explain, but I do have my ways. You know me to be charmless, but Aggie apparently thinks differently.”
Devin swallowed the last of his brandy. “As for you, my friend, stay in front of Reanna and accept her anger. You cannot change what you avoid. You talk of stubbornness? My wife would tell you that you have the ability to wear down anyone. So show up. Be there—wherever she is. You are a hard one to deny.”
Killian’s eyes went back down to the baby.
He had to get sober.
~~~
Reanna looked out the front parlor window of the small, but cozy townhouse as she stood from the chair. She hated to rush the meeting along, but she wanted to get back to the Brook Street townhouse as quickly as possible to check on the mother and baby that had joined the household this morning.
Pounding on the front door had woken the household at daybreak. By the time Reanna had a robe on and had made it to the foyer, Miss Collier had already answered the door. A bloodied, sobbing woman, baby in arms, was pleading with Miss Collier to take her baby.
It took some time to actually understand the woman, but once Reanna had ushered her into the front parlor and had her seated, the woman calmed enough to get coherent words out. Fresh blood still trickled down her face, as words tumbled. “He will kill me, and the baby, when ‘e finds me. Kill me, ‘e will. ‘E already tried. Ye need to take me boy. I’ll leave ‘em here with ye. This place keep comin’ to lips of folk. No matter me own life. Ye keep ‘im safe. Please. Please. I beg ye.”
It only took Reanna a second to decide what to do. “Nonsense. I refuse to separate you two. You will both stay here and be safe from your husband.”
“No ma’am. Just me boy. ‘E’s all that matters.”
“I am going to round the doctor to come and tend to your face, and then you will stay here until we can find a suitable, safe life away from your man,” Reanna said. “You will be safe here. I promise.”
The woman, Pertie, had relented, but Reanna had to leave for this appointment just as the doctor had arrived.
Yes. She needed to get back quickly.
Reanna turned to the Jacobsons, a childless couple who were hoping to take in four-year-old Cynthia. This was Reanna’s fourth and final interview with them. “I see the rain has not stopped, but I must take my leave.”
The couple walked her out of the parlor to the door.
“Thank you again, so much, Lady Southfork. You do not know how much this means to my wife and myself. Rain or no, this is truly a blessed day.” They both beamed at the prospect of Cynthia becoming theirs. Mr. Jacobson put his arm around his wife, squeezing her shoulder.
The small gesture concurrently warmed Reanna’s heart, and stung it with jealousy. So simple. So loving. So honest.
She took a deep breath and produced a bright smile. Cynthia would be very happy with these two, who clearly adored each other. Mr. Jacobson owned a large blacksmith shop, a solid trade, and their household was simple and loving, perfect for the little girl. Cynthia was one of the children that had been abandoned
at the townhouse during the time she had been healing at Killian’s home. Killian had given orders to the staff that any child showing up at her aunt’s home would be taken in.
“It is indeed, Mr. Jacobson. I know Cynthia will be very happy with you. She has spoken of little other than you two since she met you. She is very excited, and I appreciate your patience with my sometimes probing questions. I meant to cause no discomfort in asking them.”
“No, we understand. You want the best for Cynthia, and we have no secrets. I am impressed you would go to such lengths to ensure the happiness of the child.” Mr. Jacobson opened the door.
“Thank you for understanding. Will you be ready for her tomorrow, possibly at two?”
“Two would be fine. Do tell her we are most excited.”
“I will. We will be by at two tomorrow.”
Her new driver, Filbert, stepped quickly up the stairs, umbrella open and ready to shield her on the stairs down to the carriage. It had only been a few days, and she was still getting used to his enthusiastic assistance at every turn.
Filbert, the large carriage, and the matching horses had appeared three days earlier. After a weeklong besiege of gifts to the home from Killian—all of them attached with some purpose to the children—Reanna quickly discovered how hard it was to refuse gifts that the children immediately latched onto. And then they would inevitably ask about Killian visiting. It was hard to deny them both his presence and his gifts. So the gifts had stayed.
But Reanna had reached her breaking point with the carriage and was about to send Filbert on his way, when the children began crawling all over the carriage, glee on their faces.
The carriage was long, with an extra middle bench, for transporting the lot of the older ones together. But before Reanna could open her mouth, she knew she was going to give in. It was easier than watching eighteen little faces fall to disappointment. And for what—her own pride?
“Did it go well today, my lady?” Filbert asked, water from the umbrella streaming over half his hat as they went down the stairs.
Ignoring his appalled look, Reanna shifted the pole of the wide umbrella so it covered both of their heads. “It was wonderful, Filbert, they are a delightful couple, and this last visit convinces me that Cynthia will find a lovely home with them.”
Hold Your Breath 02 - Unmasking the Marquess Page 20