Love Is a Rogue (Wallflowers vs. Rogues #1) - Lenora Bell Page 0,95
but I remember those words. Bastard. Heartless. Drought. Lost baby.”
“Ford.” Her hand drifted onto his forearm. “What a terrible thing to overhear.”
“The next thing I knew, this man behind the desk with the steel gray eyes was waving something at my mother, something he’d written. ‘Take the money, and leave London,’ he said. ‘Never contact me again.’ My mother pleaded with him. I remember I hated hearing the beseeching tone in her voice, one I’d never heard her use before. I rushed to her side and held her hand. I told my grandfather that we didn’t want his stupid old money. Then he turned those cold eyes on me and he told my mother to get the bastard out of his sight.”
Beatrice pulled him down beside her on the bed until they lay side by side. She placed her hand over his heart. He didn’t allow himself to hope. He only had to finish telling her this story; he didn’t know what would happen next.
“My mother took his money and promised never to contact him again, or even speak his name. She made me swear, after we left, that I would never tell anyone about their meeting and I was never to mention my grandfather, even though we shared a name. As I grew older, I understood the meeting better. I felt the shame of it more keenly. It was wrong to take his hush money. His blood money.”
“She was only doing what she had to do for her family. For her child.”
“I forgave her, but I never forgave him. He doesn’t deserve my compassion.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Her finger traced the line of his jaw. “I understand why you kept silent, Ford. You swore not to reveal the connection.”
“It was an oath I swore long ago but it’s been part of my life for so long I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t go against it.”
She reached for his hand and wove her fingers into his. She stroked her thumb over the center of his palm. “You don’t have to run away. Stay here with me. Tell me more stories.”
He relaxed against her, into the warmth of her body, the pulse of her wrist, the understanding in her eyes.
“When your mother . . .” His throat constricted, remembering the awful conversation. The hatred in her mother’s eyes.
The disheartenment and shame descended again, driving away the small shreds of blue sky beginning to appear through the clouds in his mind.
“What did she do, Ford? Tell me what she did.”
“After your brother claimed you for a dance, your mother brought me upstairs and she offered me twenty thousand pounds to leave London immediately and never contact you again.”
Her nails bit into his palm. “She didn’t.”
“She did. She told me that she knew my kind, that I was a common fortune hunter. She said a lot of other things, none of them good. I told her I’d never touch her money and I walked out. It was . . . it brought everything back to me. The day my mother brought me to see my grandfather. The hush money. Money meant to silence, to humiliate. To put me in my place.” His jaw locked so tightly he might never be able to open it again.
“I’m so sorry, Ford. I can’t believe she would do something like that. It’s unconscionable.”
He sighed. “She’s only trying to protect you, Beatrice. You have everything to lose. Your bookshop, your reputation, your fortune. Your mother. I refuse to be the author of all of that loss.”
“What if I want to write my own story? What if I’m willing to risk everything?” She rolled toward him, pressing her cheek against his cheek. “I couldn’t even allow myself to acknowledge that I wanted to kiss you. I had to imagine myself as a fictitious heroine before I could even give myself permission to express my desire. I’ve been living at a remove from life, at a distance, living within my head instead of my heart. You make me feel, Ford. Feel everything—joy, pain, love, sorrow.”
She kissed his cheek. “Pain and love go hand in hand. I struggled against loving you. I battled to keep myself removed from my emotions, but pain and risk are part of life. We can’t outrun suffering, or love. I love therefore I suffer. Because I could lose you. Because you could walk out this door and onto your ship and I would never see you again. Love brings struggle and strife, Ford, but it also