The Return of the Duke - Grace Callaway Page 0,113
I would like to with you, if you would give me the chance.”
The roughness of his voice betrayed his agitation. It wasn’t easy for him to say what he was saying. Despite her hurt, she felt herself softening toward him.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I now understand that I put Imogen on a pedestal, used her as motivation to lift myself out of poverty, the miserable conditions of my life. Everything around me was dark, filthy, and brutal. You know my maman was a seamstress but what I didn’t tell you was that she was also…a whore.”
Seeing the anguish in Knight’s eyes, Fancy felt her anger begin to ebb. His large frame was braced as if he were confronting an army of demons, and she couldn’t let him do it alone. Slowly, she reached out a hand to him, and he took it, gripping it like a lifeline.
“I was eight when I realized how she truly earned our keep. I thought we’d been surviving on the piecework she did. I never questioned why she went out at night, wearing paint, a tawdry dress.” His voice had a serrated edge. “There were times she came back with bruises on her face, a horrible blank look in her eyes, and I would ask her why. And all she would say was that she’d had an accident.”
“Oh, Knight.” Fancy didn’t know what else to say.
“When one of my friends enlightened me on my mama’s true profession, I bloodied his nose then foolishly demanded to know the truth from her. Do you know what she said?”
“What?” Fancy asked softly.
“Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t be blinded by desire, she said. When you find yourself a woman, treat her like a true gentleman, like a knight who would never forsake his lady.” His throat worked above his cravat. “I didn’t understand then that she was talking about my father who had abandoned her, stripped her of everything little by little. First her youthful dreams, then her hope, then finally even her physical dignity.”
“Yet she never lost her strength,” Fancy whispered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your mama endured so much, yet she kept fighting to survive. And she never lost hope in you, Knight: she believed that you could be the gentleman your father never was.”
“I have never thought of it that way,” he said gruffly. “I only knew that I had failed her. Failed to protect her, to provide for us so that she wouldn’t have to suffer indignities. I tried to help. I turned to what most boys my age could do in the stews: pickpocketing, petty theft. But whenever I managed to bring home a loaf of bread, a stolen purse, my maman…” He swallowed. “She would look at me with such disappointment in her eyes. And I knew what she was thinking. Knew that she wished I could be more. Then I saved Imogen, and for the first time in my life, I felt like…”
“A hero?” Fancy said with understanding.
He nodded jerkily. “It was a powerful feeling, knowing that I could be more than a sticky-fingered guttersnipe. That I could rise above my origins. I wanted so badly to be a gentleman who would make my maman proud and who could win a well-bred lady’s heart.”
“You are a gentleman.” Then, as much as it hurt her to say it, “And you have won Imogen’s heart.”
“Imogen doesn’t love me, and I don’t love her.” He grasped her hands in a powerful grip. “I was infatuated with Imogen, idealized her, but I never knew her. And she never knew me.”
Fancy furrowed her brow. “How could you not know each other after all these years?”
“Because she wanted a champion, I wanted to be a champion, and that was all we really had in common. We never talked about anything of substance,” he said, his expression earnest. “Imogen has delicate sensibilities, and I never shared my problems, the darkness in my life, for fear of upsetting her. And she, in turn, was always a proper lady, never saying or doing anything impolite.”
Heat prickled Fancy’s cheeks as she thought of the things she and Knight had talked about. The impolite things they’d said and done in the heat of passion. Embarrassed, she tried to pull away but Knight held on.
“But you…you’re real, Fancy,” he said urgently. “A blood-and-flesh woman who isn’t afraid of feelings or unpleasantness. Who isn’t disgusted by the man I am beneath the polish and trappings of wealth.”