about him. He was handsome, to be sure, but there was something angry and cold about him. He looked like the kind of man who would chastise a little boy for marring his schoolwork with a speck of ink. He was all dark cold eyes and grim countenance.
“When did he … die?” she asked haltingly.
James’s voice was flat. “Over ten years ago now.”
“Around the time I got married,” she murmured, raising her glass to her lips again.
He cocked his head to the side. “I suppose so.”
“You were young when you inherited your title,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Were you very sad, to see your father die?” Ugh. She winced. Why had she asked that? She pinched her arm. “I’m sorry, James,” she hurriedly added. “Of course you were. It’s just that—”
“The answer is no,” he replied quietly. “And I just realized that you’re one of the only people in the world to whom I can admit that.”
Her mouth formed an O. “What do you mean?”
“You know what it’s like to feel as if you’re supposed to mourn someone when you don’t.”
She glanced away, rolling the wine glass between her palms. “Your father treated you badly?”
“I wouldn’t say that exactly. He always hated me, though.”
Kate gasped. One hand flew to her throat. “No. You don’t mean that.”
He nodded grimly. “I’m afraid I do. But don’t worry. He had good reason to hate me.”
Her brow furrowed, Kate searched his face. “How can you say that? He was your father.”
Setting his wine glass aside, James stretched his long legs in front of him and braced his elbows on the settee behind him. “I have learned in my life that those two things are not mutually exclusive.”
“Why did he hate you?” The words slipped from her dry throat.
He paused, then sat up and took a long draught of his wine. “Because I killed my mother.” His voice was sadly matter-of-fact, tinged with a hint of guilt.
Kate nearly dropped her glass. That was it. What he’d been referring to earlier. “No! James! What do you mean?”
He smiled a humorless smile. “The occasion of my advent into this world was the same as my mother’s exit. My birth caused her death.”
Tears filled Kate’s eyes. “Surely your father didn’t blame a baby—”
A wry smile touched his lips. “Officially, of course not. But I felt it in everything he ever said to me, every word, every deed. He loved my mother very much and … I killed her.”
Kate set her glass aside. She wanted to reach out and touch James, comfort him. Instead, she dug her fingertips into the flesh of her palm. “But that’s insane.”
He sighed. “I won’t argue that point.”
“He was hard on you.”
“He demanded perfection from me. And that’s exactly what he got.” His voice trailed off. Another draught of wine. “Lord Perfect.”
“You wish you were different?” she asked hesitantly.
“On the contrary, I am never happier than when everything is perfectly in its place. I was always an excellent student.” His voice was without irony but was traced with anger.
Kate eyed him carefully. “Would your father have approved of your printing press?”
James raised his brows. “Why, Lady Kate, you surprise me. You’ve uncovered my secret.”
She furrowed her brow. “It’s no secret. I always knew you had a printing press.”
He shook his head. “
“What’s the real one?” she asked, holding her breath.
He stared off beyond the brace of candles into the shadowy darkness of the room. “The real secret is that my printing press is my only form of rebellion. To answer your question, my father would absolutely hate it.”
“Rebellion? I don’t understand. Your father’s not even here to see it.”
“It doesn’t matter.” James affected a mock voice. “A gentleman makes money from his land management. A gentleman does not go into common business. And a gentleman, at all times, under all circumstances, distances himself from even the
“Your father hated scandal?”
He raised his wine glass. “Precisely.”
“And that’s why you own a printing press?”
“Not just any printing press. A wildly successful one. Wildly successful because of the content I publish. Very, very scandalous content.”
She smiled. “When I first met you, I wondered if you did it to make money.”
He gazed at the ceiling. “Ha. Money’s easy. I have money.”
“I’ve come to realize that.” She glanced around at the fine furnishings that adorned the room in which they sat.
“I do it because my father would hate it.” James tipped back his glass and drained it in one final maneuver. “But I’m not sure I even want that anymore.”
“So you never made amends with your father? Before he died, I mean?” Kate asked carefully.
James shook his head. “We came to a peaceable understanding, I suppose. But we were never close. He never once told me he was proud of me.”
“Oh, James, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he replied. “It’s been a great many years now and I’ve learned to live with it.”
Her heart fluttering in her throat, Kate turned to face him. “You said you thought I was the only one who understood what it’s like to not mourn someone when you should.”
“Aren’t you?” There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
She glanced away, tears filling her eyes. “It’s true. When I think about George I’m sad, yes. He didn’t deserve to be murdered no matter what the reason. But I’m not sad because I miss him. I’m sad because of what my life became after I married him. I’m awful to admit it, but I’m sad … for myself.”
James set his empty glass on the table next to him and moved closer to her. “I admire your honesty, Kate.”
She shook her head frantically. “You shouldn’t. It’s perfectly horrendous to feel the way I do. I’m sorry for myself, not my dead husband.”
“But you didn’t kill him.”
She met his gaze, the tears spilling from her eyes, her voice catching. “Do you really believe that, James? Do you?”
He groaned. “Kate, if I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t have hired the runner.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She gingerly wiped away the tears on her cheeks. “Tell me something, James. What do you want? What do you
He ran a shaking hand over his face. “Kate, I thought you knew by now. What I want, what I really want … is to fix everything.”
CHAPTER 24
Kate dropped her gaze from James. She dropped the handkerchief into her lap and ran her hands along her skirts, smoothing them. “Fix everything? Is that what you want or what you’re compelled to do?”
He smiled at that. “Is there a difference?”
“Yes, a big one.”
He regarded her down the length of his nose. “May I ask you a question, Kate?”
She turned back and nodded. “Of course.”
“Why didn’t you and George have any children?”
She closed her eyes, briefly. “We tried … at first.” She swallowed and bit the inside of her cheek. “For
