“When I first saw you together I thought—wondered, I mean—if you and she were…”
“—married?” Kit completed for him. “People often assume that. And no. We are merely friends.”
“So Peter is…?”
Kit sent him a dry look at the blatant fishing. “Not mine. Officially, we say Clara is my sister, and a widow.”
“And unofficially?”
“She works for me—I took her in at the time she most needed help. Now she’s a very good friend. I consider her and Peter my family, and he is, officially, my godson.”
Henry nodded. “She was an unwed mother then?”
“Through no fault of her own. She’s an educated woman. She had a position as a governess but was raped by the oldest son of the family.”
Henry grimaced. It was an all too common story.
“I’d put up a notice for a junior clerk for Redford’s and she turned up,” Kit said. “She seemed to be such a genteel young lady. I was in the process of telling her she wasn’t quite what I had in mind when she fainted—and I discovered her condition. When she came around, she confessed that she hadn’t been eating, and that her position was quite desperate.”
“So, you gave her the job?”
“I did. And then, when I discovered where she was living, I insisted she move into the club with me—we were in the private apartments I took you up to the other night. Once Peter was born, I bought this house.”
“Why was that? The apartments at the club seemed quite sizeable.”
“Redford’s is not a suitable place to bring up an infant,” Kit said. “I should know—I was brought up in a brothel.”
Henry stared at him, unable to think what to say to that. It was ridiculous to be taken aback—probably many people in Kit’s situation had similar backgrounds—but somehow Henry had never considered that.
“Your mother?” he managed at last.
“She was a prostitute. She worked at the Golden Lily.”
“The same place—” Henry broke off, and Kit laughed at whatever he saw on his face.
“Yes, the same place where we met.”
“Didn't you tell me you ran away from home?” Henry said faintly.
Kit laughed. “I had to tell you something,” he said. “And most gentleman like the idea of a wholesome farm lad who comes to the city in search of debauchery.”
Guiltily, Henry realised he was one of them.
“Why not just tell the truth?” he asked.
Kit met his eyes, and his own were gentle. “I couldn’t have you feeling sorry for me, could I? Better that you think I ran to London town with stars in my eyes, looking for a handsome prince all of my own.”
“Would I have felt sorry for you?” Henry asked softly.
Kit sighed. “How do I know?”
“Tell me then—about when you were a child.”
Kit made an impatient noise. “Does all that history matter now? It was years ago. Now, I own this house, my own business. Many people born into my circumstances would have ended up little better than beggars. I was lucky.”
“In what way were you lucky?” Henry asked, curious.
Kit’s smile widened, but his green gaze was oddly bleak. “I was born beautiful.”
Henry’s heart ached for him.
“How old were you when you first… worked?”
“Again, I was lucky,” Kit said. “I had my mother till I was almost fifteen, and she provided for me. Then, when she died, she made Mabel promise to look out for me. So, Mabel kept me till I was sixteen, before I had to earn.”
“Sixteen?” Henry said hoarsely. He thought of Freddy at sixteen. What a child he had been.
“Mabel was canny,” Kit said. “She started having me serve in the Golden Lily, dressed provocatively. Got me known amongst her customers, then started up a bidding war on me.” He laughed drily.
Henry closed his eyes. He was beginning to feel queasy.
Kit’s hand landed on his knee, and he opened his eyes, meeting Kit’s concerned gaze.
“Don’t feel bad,” Kit said almost angrily. “By the time I met you I’d had my virginity auctioned to the highest bidder and completed my first three contracts. I can assure you, by the time you and I met, I knew everything there was to know about my trade.”
That didn’t make Henry feel better.
“What about after me?” Henry asked hoarsely.
Kit looked away. “You already know about that.”
“Not really,” Henry said. “I know you took up with Skelton, and that he hurt you.”
Kit leaned back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “I’m not sure I see the point of this, Henry.”
“Is it true that, after what happened with us, some people thought you’d done