“The devil you were.” He clenched his jaw. “Don’t lie to me.”
“If you can go gallivanting, then why can’t I?” she shot back.
“You know full well why not. Because you’re a damned virgin and a lady.”
“Dash it all. That isn’t fair!”
“Too bloody bad. I do not make the rules. Now stop trying to evade the question: what in blazes were you doing at the Black Lion dressed like a light-skirt?”
She took a breath. Exhaled slowly. Buying time, no doubt.
“Because I wanted to know what it was like to be a real woman…the kind you would be interested in.”
Her words, wholly unexpected, stunned him into silence.
“You called me a silly little girl,” she burst out. “Said you only wanted a real woman. Well, I wanted to know what it was like to be such a female.”
“And you thought parading like a trollop in a tavern was the way to gain that experience?” he said incredulously. “Are you mad?”
“I am perfectly sane, as you know. And I can take care of myself.” She gave him an annoyed look. “Why do you care what I do, anyway? You’ve rejected me three times and told me to stay away from you. As I’ve been minding my own affairs, I expect you to extend me the same courtesy. I am no concern of yours.”
Stay calm. Stay in control.
He drew in a breath through his nose. “You know that is not true, Livy. I do care about you. I just…I just cannot be the man you want me to be.”
“I only want you to be you.”
God help him. Mesmerized by her sincerity and unwavering gaze, he felt his control slip a notch. She was so damned beautiful, inside and out. The promise of a life he’d once longed for and which he knew could never be his. She was everything good…everything he was not.
“You don’t know me,” he said hoarsely.
Confidence shone in her eyes. “I do so.”
She crossed over to his side of the carriage, and he automatically reached out to steady her, his hand engulfing hers. She sat beside him, lacing her fingers with his and, bastard that he was, he couldn’t make himself let go. Bloody hell, he’d missed her. The connection between them had always felt right. Even as it was shifting, changing in ways that left him confused and torn, he could not deny himself the simple, exquisite pleasure of holding her hand.
“Is that why you’ve pushed me away?” she asked with her usual acuity. “Because you think you are not right for me?”
“I know I am not,” he said darkly. “I am not a good man, Livy. My sins are such that they can never be erased. You deserve someone far better.”
“Let me be the judge of that. I am perfectly capable of deciding what I want. And I can tell you this: regardless of what you have done, you will always be a hero in my eyes.”
He gave a humorless laugh at her naïveté. She was so sweet…and so damned young.
You want to do the right thing? his inner voice challenged. Tell her the truth. Let her know the kind of man you truly are, and she will want nothing to do with you.
He let go of her hand. Said the words that would set her free.
“I killed a man.”
Livy had suspected that Hadleigh’s past was dark. He’d alluded to it more than once, and even as a girl, she’d sensed that he had his demons. Why else would he drink and brood so much and at times seem so lost? Nonetheless, his admission took her aback.
“Why?” The word popped out of her mouth.
She knew Hadleigh: if he had committed such a sin, there had to be a reason.
His expression stark, he said, “Do you know how my sister Beatrice was scarred?”
Livy drew her brows together. “My parents said Aunt Bea had a riding accident.”
“That is true, but there is more to it. She was riding in the park when she came upon a man named Griggs beating a street urchin. She interfered, and Griggs retaliated by whipping her horse. She was thrown and nearly trampled. In truth, she was lucky to escape with only the scar.”
“How brave of Aunt Bea to stand up for that boy.” Livy’s voice trembled with emotion. “And shame on that blighter for hurting a lady who was only doing the right thing.”
“At the time my sister was hurt, I was sixteen,” Hadleigh said tonelessly, “and I swore to avenge her honor. Not just hers, but that of my family. Before Beatrice’s injury, she was feted by all of Society, poised to make a match with a duke. We Wodehouses were the envy of the ton for our happiness. Then Griggs came along and destroyed everything.
“My beautiful sister was shunned because of her scar and became an object of ridicule. Our mama was beside herself with despair and locked herself in her bedchamber. Livid at everything that had befallen the family, our formerly doting papa spent more and more time away from us, the source of his unhappiness. When he died two years later, it was in his mistress’s bed. My mama followed him to the grave soon thereafter. She died, I think, of a broken heart.”
“Oh, Hadleigh,” Livy whispered, hurting for him. “How dreadful it must have been to witness your family in such pain.”
He gave a terse nod. “When I inherited the title at eighteen, I was consumed with the need to avenge my family’s honor. Looking back, it seems absurd now: how could revenge possibly give me back everything that I had lost? But I was a reckless, arrogant fool. I made it my life’s mission to destroy Griggs. He was a rising middle-class industrialist, and I used my influence to crush him. Rumors in the ears of the right men in the right clubs was all it took to blacken his reputation, to get his loans denied and investors to flee. His business crumbled. He came
