The Return of the Duke - Grace Callaway Page 0,114
be disgusted by you?” she asked in a suffocated voice. “You are a man of honor, one who has survived on his own merits. You’ve made something of yourself, risen above the darkness that could have consumed you, and that isn’t something to be ashamed of.”
“I adore that you see the best in everyone, sweeting…even in me, when I don’t deserve it.” His eyes burned with desperate intensity. “Your warmth and generosity are unlike anything I’ve known. For so long, I had fooled myself into thinking love was something pure and unattainable. That is why I didn’t recognize the gift you gave me: love, real love, the kind that not only survives darkness but grows stronger because of it. The kind that lasts forever and beyond. That is what I feel for you, Fancy—my duchess, my wife, the only woman I have truly loved.”
Emotion clogged her throat. He was saying the things that had filled her dreams. She wanted to believe him…but she flashed to that scene on the balcony, the shattering anguish of seeing Imogen in his arms. How could she trust that he loved her, that he wasn’t simply settling for the consolation prize?
She pulled away, and he let her, his gaze following her keenly.
“If that is the case, why did seeing Imogen at Maggie’s ball affect you so?” When his brows knitted, she said, “After that night, you became distant. You didn’t come to my bed, and then when I sought you out…” She bit her lip, humiliation throbbing like a deep-seated splinter. “I told you I loved you, and you…rebuffed me.”
“I was a bastard.” Self-condemnation hardened his voice. “There is no excuse for how I treated you, and I cannot tell you how sorry I am. But you’re wrong about one thing: it wasn’t Imogen who triggered my mood—it was Anna Smith.”
“But…why?” She tilted her head. “At that point, the danger was over. Shouldn’t you have been happy or relieved at the very least?”
“I was relieved that the danger to you was over.” Shadows deepened in his eyes. “But when I went to see Anna Smith, it brought back the memories of visiting my maman…in Bedlam.”
At the revelation, Fancy stilled. London’s infamous Bethlehem Hospital, commonly known as Bedlam, was an asylum for the insane.
“Your mother was ill?” Fancy said carefully.
“She didn’t start off that way.” His voice was gritty. “According to the mad-doctor, it was the gin that did it to her. My maman, she drank a lot. Not during my earliest years; I remember a time when her eyes and mind were clear. But when she started selling herself to support us, it changed her. She was a passionate woman, my mother, and doing something so contrary to her wishes and sense of dignity destroyed her. She had to find some way to numb herself…and blue ruin was her answer.”
“Your poor mama,” Fancy said achingly.
“She was a loving mother, but when she drank, she became a different person. I was twelve when she started hallucinating. Hearing and seeing things that were not there. When I tried to tell her it was just her imagination, she would grow distraught, and a few times she forgot who I was, thought I was trying to harm her. And she…she attacked me. One time, she chased me into the street with a knife. I should have gotten out of the way, but I wasn’t fast enough. She stabbed me, left the scar near my heart.”
Unable to bear the rawness of her husband’s pain, Fancy went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
His arms circled her like iron bands. “She didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“Of course she didn’t.” Fancy held him with all her strength. “She was not herself.”
“After that time, the authorities took her away. For years, I visited her in Bedlam, and seeing her suffering, how she was treated...” His voice was muffled against her hair. “There was nothing I could do to help her. I was glad when she died, glad that her torment was finally over. When I went to see Anna Smith, being in the asylum brought everything back.”
Fancy stroked his back. “I understand.”
Because now she did. Knight hadn’t been brooding over Imogen; he had been reliving the horrors of his youth. She had the sudden insight that this was the root of his infatuation with Imogen: was it any wonder that he would seek a pure, untouchable love when the real love he’d experienced had been so full of darkness and pain?