A Duke in Time (The Widow Rules #1) - Janna MacGregor Page 0,106

at. She took parts where the only payment was the contributions collected at the end of the performance. She didn’t care about her pride because she made certain I was clothed and fed. Most importantly, she made certain I knew I was loved.”

“You were lucky.” It was the only response Christian could think of as his mind reeled with the information she was telling him. He swallowed the sudden thickness in his throat.

She deliberately glanced away. “Yes, I was.”

“I still want to marry you,” he said gently. “I don’t care about your mother’s acting career. I care about you. Share my life. Become my duchess.”

“You need to hear everything I have to say. I married your brother with the foolish thought that it would remove the taint from me.” She shrugged slightly, the act so forlorn that he wanted to hold her forever. “Before I met Meri, I learned all the rules and manners expected of a woman in society. I was surprised how easy it was to fool everyone, including him. When he asked me to marry him, I thought I’d captured the Golden Fleece.”

He brushed his lips against hers, then whispered, “I say he had when he married you.”

She shook her head and smiled slightly. “You don’t play fair.”

“I beg to differ. I play honestly.” He kissed an errant tear from one soft cheek. “I don’t care who your father is. I don’t care what your mother did for a living. She taught you how to love, Katherine Greer. And for that, I will always hold her in the highest esteem.” He turned her face slightly, then kissed the three remaining tears. “The truth is, my darling Kat, I can’t let you go. I’ve found the most perfect, astonishingly impressive woman in the world to love. You helped me realize my dream of helping others and giving me a purpose. As long as we’re together, loving each other every day, that’s the only thing that’s important.”

A fresh onslaught of tears fell when she stared at him. Each one stole a piece of his heart.

She looked up to the ceiling and shook her head as if ready to say no. “There’s more. I wasn’t going to tell you, but you deserve the truth.”

He had no idea what was causing her so much pain, and all he wanted was to take it from her and throw it out the window, never to bother her again. The telltale twisting of her of fingers revealed her turmoil. He placed his hand over hers to stop the frantic movement. “Whatever it is, we’ll work through it.”

“I don’t think we can. Shortly after my mother died, Willa went to take care of a cousin who lived about twenty miles away. She thought she’d be gone a day, but it turned into several weeks. I didn’t budget my food or coal carefully, and I couldn’t find work. So, I went out one morning, ready to beg on the street.”

By now, tears were streaming down her face. He tried to wipe them all away, but they fell in a river. Each one a reminder of her deep pain.

“Sometimes, we do what we have to in order to survive.” Desperate to give her comfort, Christian brushed his thumb across one of her brows.

“My mother”—she shook her head slowly—“would have been so ashamed of me that day if she’d been alive.” She turned her head. “I stood at the corner of the market district trying to decide what to do. I’d been to every store up and down the street, asking for work. So, I stood there and struggled with what to say as I held my hand out.” She tilted her head, their gazes colliding. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to beg.”

Her voice dropped so low, he had to bend close to hear her.

“A band of boys came running by. They were about my age, but I didn’t recognize them. One of them stopped before me, and said, ‘Hello, angel.’”

A sob racked through her body, and he pulled her closer if that were possible. “Did they hurt you?”

“Not physically,” she sniffed. “He put an apple in my hand, and said, ‘For you.’”

“What happened?” He brushed his fingers across one cheek. For a moment, she leaned against him and he brought her close.

“The grocer came around the corner with a constable. They were out of breath, but you could see the anger in their eyes. The boy who gave me the apple yelled, ‘She did