“Ramsey told me that the girl who carried off the boy seemed familiar. It took him a few minutes to place her, as she’d grown up, and cleaned up, since he’d seen her last, but there was no mistaking those vivid, aqua eyes. She was the same street urchin who used to steal food from his tavern and pick the pockets of his clientele.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “You were quite the bane of his existence for a number of months.”
Meredith began to shake all over, battered by incredulity and confusion. “You’ve known. Since that night you asked about Taggert.”
“Yes.”
“You knew when you invited me to your home for dinner.”
“Yes.”
“When you arranged that elaborate meal and decorations.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing about it.”
“No.”
“But why?” She felt the strong need to sit down, and locked her knees to stiffen the watery sensation suddenly plaguing them.
“Because I was hoping you’d tell me yourself.” Releasing her shoulders, he framed her face between his palms. “I am humbled by your trust in me. And the feelings you must have for me, to tell me something so deeply private.”
Dear God, this was not going at all the way it was supposed to! Stepping away from him, she said, “I did not tell you out of any deep feelings, Philip. I told you because you would not accept a simple no for an answer. Because you needed to understand how stupendously mismatched we are.”
“You mean how stupendously mismatched you think we are. Because of things you did to survive when you were little more than a child. Well, I disagree with your assessment. Actually, my disagreement falls into the category of ‘strenuously disagree.’ I’ve seen the lengths people can be driven to by poverty and fear and hunger. I do not think any less of you for surviving. Indeed, I greatly admire that you overcame such tragedy to become the intelligent, kind, decent woman you are. It has been my experience that adversity either breaks people or strengthens them. And those that it strengthens are often blessed with a special sort of compassion for others who face the same sort of adversity. You have that compassion, Meredith. That strength of spirit. And they are just a few of the many things I love about you. Now, I shall ask you again. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Dear God, he meant what he said. But he still did not know the entire truth. “There’s more, Philip. It… it has to do with the reason I left home. Do you recall me telling you that my father was a tutor and my mother a governess?”
“Yes, of course.”
“That was but another lie.” She licked her dust-dry lips. “There’s no easy way to tell you, so I shall simply say it. I have no idea who my father is. Neither did my mother. He was just one of many men she entertained at the brothel where she worked. At the brothel where I grew up. The brothel I ran away from when I turned thirteen because it was time for me to start earning my keep and I refused to do so. The brothel that my mother refused to leave because she thought being a whore was the only thing she was good at. The brothel where she died of syphilis.” Tears wetted her cheeks, but she could not stop the flow of words now that she’d started. It was as if she’d lanced a wound and all the poison was flowing out.
“I went back once. After I was settled in London. I tried to convince her to come live with me, but she refused. It was the most awful visit.” She shut her eyes briefly, vividly recalling her mother’s haggard appearance. And the house… God, she hated that place. Hated the crude, raucous noises, the smells of stale liquor and smoke and bodies. “I never saw her again. The last correspondence I had from her arrived six months later. She’d written me a letter and asked one of the girls from the brothel to deliver it to me. That girl was Charlotte.”
“Your friend, Mrs. Carlyle.” It was impossible to gauge his reaction from his neutral tone and expression.
“Yes. The story of her being a widow was but yet another fabrication. Charlotte, who was pregnant, was accosted on her way to my home and arrived beaten and bruised. Albert and I nursed her back to health, and she has lived with us ever since. When she gave birth to her daughter, we all agreed that the perfect name for the child was Hope.” She drew in a long, deep breath, then slowly exhaled.
“The reason my matchmaking enterprise is so important to me is because of my upbringing. I used to hide in the cupboard under the stairs thinking, if only Mama had married, how different both our lives would have been. And the same for all the other girls in the brothel-if only they’d found kind, decent men to marry, their lives would have been so different…”
Shaking off the remnants of the past, she said softly, “So now you see why any further association, let alone a marriage, between us is impossible. I told you on more than one occasion I’ve never intended to marry. I would find it impossible to keep up the pretense and lies regarding my past with a husband-someone I’d have to live with on a daily basis. Nor would I expect any man to accept not only my past, but the pasts of the people closest to me, for I would never abandon Albert, Charlotte, and Hope. The fact that this tavern keep Ramsey recognized me all those years ago-what if he were to see me again? The whole ugly truth could come out. It is a fear, and a possibility that lives inside me every day. A woman with a past like mine could cost you everything, Philip. Your social standing, your future, everything. ”
They stood in silence, looking at each other, the six-foot expanse of rug between them seeming like an ocean, his expression impossible to decipher. She’d told him. Everything. All that was left was to say good-bye. A simple word, yet she could not seem to push it past her lips.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he spoke. “You’ve presented everything in your usual clear, concise manner, but there are still three questions I’d like to ask you-if you have no objections.”
“Of course.”
“My first question is, except for details regarding your background, have you ever lied to me?”
“No.” A humorless sound escaped her. “But with regard to my background, I’ve accumulated an impressive number of offenses. What is the second question?”
“Do you love me?”
The question stilled everything inside her. Do you love me? How could she deny it? Yet how could she admit it? And to what end? Telling him how she felt about him would only make their parting more painful. “I cannot see how that matters, Philip.”
“It matters a great deal to me.” Eyes steady on hers, he stepped toward her, not stopping until less than two feet remained between them. Her heart pounded so hard, she could feel her blood drumming through her veins. Reaching out, he clasped her hands, then raised them to his lips. “It is a simple question, Meredith.” His words warmed his breath against her chilled fingers.
“There is nothing simple about it.”
“On the contrary, it requires nothing more than a simple yes-or-no response. Do you love me?”
She wanted to he. Damnation, she’d uttered so many untruths over the years, surely telling one more should not cause such anguish. But she couldn’t push the falsehood past her lips. Lowering her chin, she stared at their clasped hands and whispered, “Yes.”
He squeezed her hands, then pressed her palms against his chest. Through his shirt, his heartbeat thumped against her hands, strong and steady. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he touched his fingers beneath her chin and raised her face until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. Eyes whose expression in no way reflected the disgust she’d anticipated. Indeed, his gaze was warm with tenderness. And unmistakable love.
“My third question is, will you marry me?”
Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. She tried to step back, but his arm tightened, holding her in place. “Have you not been listening?” she asked, her voice rising to an incredulous level. “I am a bastard. I grew up in a brothel. My mother was a prostitute. I spent years as a thief.”