She believed him.
“Snooping, Sophie?”
Body jerking in surprise, she tugged her scrutiny from the table to meet Joshua’s hooded gaze. So absorbed in what she’d discovered, she hadn’t heard him enter the room. But he stood several feet away, head cocked to the side, studying her with an impenetrable expression. Didn’t matter, though. The anger emanated from him, sending the guilt in her belly into a tighter, faster tailspin.
“Yes,” she admitted quietly. If her honesty startled him, he didn’t reveal it. That shuttered mask didn’t alter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy.”
He didn’t reply, his eyes narrowing further. Finally, he closed the short distance between them. But he didn’t approach her but headed to the bar and fixed a drink. Turning to face her moments later with a tumbler in hand, he continued to study her, slowly sipping.
“Go ahead and ask,” he said, his tone as dark and smooth as the alcohol in his hand. “Don’t hold back. Isn’t that—” he waved the glass in the direction of the table and papers “—what you’re here for?”
“Yes,” she replied. It was the reason. At least the least complicated and safer reason. And the only one she wanted to admit to. “From your notes, I’m assuming you didn’t find a woman with a child or if she did have one, not a child who was the correct age or gender.”
He shook his head, tipping his drink up for another swallow. “No. None of them are behind the email you received or the DNA report. I’m not any closer to finding out the truth about whether or not I have a daughter.”
“Is this list...complete?” She hated to ask—part of her didn’t want to know the answer. No. More specifically, didn’t want to know if there were more names. Not when a kernel of resentment and envy lodged just under her breastbone. But the question needed to be posed.
Joshua stared at her for several seconds before tipping his head back and loosing a hard and loud crack of laughter. But no hilarity laced the jagged edges of it.
“You’re asking if I have more pages with a longer list of names hidden somewhere?” he drawled.
“Six women. Four years.” She shrugged. And fought back the hot blast of embarrassment from staining her cheeks. “It does seem a little on the thin side.”
“When you’re a man in my position, you can’t afford to be reckless with women. Especially when your father was a whore.” He chuckled. “Come now, Sophie,” he mocked. “You didn’t come across that bit of information in all of your research?” Oh yes, she had. But her poker face must’ve been woefully inadequate because he arched a dark brow and downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass in one gulp. Setting the glass on the bar behind him, he cocked his head to the side, a razor-sharp half smile tilting the corner of his mouth. “Of course you did,” he murmured. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense. Tell me what you dug up on Vernon Lowell’s propensity for adultery.”
“Joshua,” she whispered, her mind, her traitorous heart rebelling at engaging in this.
Not for his father’s sake? No, Vernon had been the whore his son had called him. She didn’t want to go there for Joshua’s sake. Because underneath that taunting, I-don’t-give-a-damn tone, his pain echoed like a distant foghorn warning of upcoming danger.
“Don’t stop now.” The smile sharpened. “Do tell.”
Inhaling a breath, she held it. Then slowly released it. He wasn’t going to let this go. For some reason, he appeared in a masochistic mood, and was using her as his weapon of choice.
“Vernon was known to have a...” She hesitated, searching those gold-flecked hazel eyes. “Roving eye,” she finished. Lamely.
“He fucked anything in a skirt.” The bald, flat statement crashed between them like shattered glass. “That is what you were so diplomatically trying to say, correct? He was an unfaithful bastard who betrayed his marriage vows on a regular basis and didn’t care if his wife found out. And she did find out. My mother always knew when he found a new mistress. And we—Jake, Oliver and I—all knew because they weren’t quiet about arguing over it.”
Surprise rippled through her. Vernon had married up when he’d wed his wife. Eve Evans-Janson had been a society daughter with a pedigree that dated past colonial times. Her connections had opened many doors for him. Most people would consider her rather plain in the beauty department, but Sophie had always thought her loveliness exceeded mere looks. From pictures and her own memories, she remembered the other woman carrying herself like a queen. Dignified. Proud. So why would a woman like her accept a husband who cheated so openly without care for her feelings?
“Why would she—”
“Put up with a man who not only couldn’t, but wouldn’t, keep it in his pants?” he finished in a derisive drawl. “Simple. Comfort. Money. Even though my father did whatever he wanted and refused to give her the one thing she desperately wanted—a daughter—she stayed with him because divorce was embarrassing. Reputation and the image of a perfect marriage and family were vital to her. So she looked the other way in public and cried and raged in private. And... Despite all his selfishness, she loved him. Desperately.”
Sadness coiled around her heart and squeezed hard. She should be outraged on his mother’s behalf—even angry with her for settling. For not demanding more for herself, for her children. But... Hadn’t she been Eve at one time? Hadn’t she loved a man so completely she’d been willing to ignore her instincts, look the other way, almost ignore her ethics? The only difference between her and Joshua’s mother was she finally walked
