‘Your father stopped Mallencourt, didn’t he?’
She nodded her head. ‘I am still a virgin, Dalton. He did not rape me, though he tried.’ Her voice held a tremor, and she added, ‘But I think someone saw something that night. The blackmail began only a week later. I didn’t know until recently, but Papa received help from Lachlan’s father. I think my marriage was part of his arrangement to pay Locharr back.’
Now he was beginning to understand. ‘Did Lachlan know of this?’
‘No. I never told him or anyone else. Not even Mother knows of the attack.’
He was quiet for a time, and then adjusted the sheets around himself. ‘Regina, may I hold you?’
She was still crying, but she turned to face him. He brought her into his embrace, tucking her face against his chest, though he was careful not to let their lower bodies touch. ‘It’s all right,’ he said softly. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘But it was,’ she insisted. ‘If I hadn’t brought him back to the house...if I hadn’t let him inside or sent the footman away—’
‘It’s not your fault,’ he repeated. She had been through hell, and he didn’t want her to blame herself. He stroked her hair back, touching his forehead to hers.
She was silent, breathing slowly. But there was more he needed to know. ‘What happened to Mallencourt?’ he asked. ‘He deserves a bullet in his heart for what he did to you.’
After another long pause, she said, ‘Papa made certain he would never hurt me or anyone else again.’
‘Good.’ But he could feel her tension heightening, despite her confession.
‘Dalton...there’s more. I don’t want to hide this from you,’ she continued. ‘But no one has seen Mallencourt since that night,’ she continued. ‘Not even his family.’
And with that, he was starting to realise what she meant. ‘Is he dead?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
Dalton couldn’t fault the earl, if he had killed Mallencourt. He would have done the same. Any man who tried to attack a woman deserved what he got. But it explained the reason for the blackmail. It might have been their footman, Frederick—or more likely a relative of Mallencourt, seeking revenge. He didn’t know, but he hoped the Bow Street Runner would send answers soon.
‘Dalton, do you—do you understand why I never wanted to marry? And why I’m not able to be a true wife to you yet?’ she whispered. ‘The memories are too harsh.’
He turned her to face him, cupping her cheek gently. ‘I understand why you were afraid. And I am glad your father stopped him.’ More than that, it gave him hope that one day he might gain her full trust.
‘Thank you for telling me of this, Regina,’ he said against her cheek. He kissed her gently and was reassured when she kissed him back.
‘I am still ashamed of what happened,’ she admitted with a sigh.
‘Don’t be. The fault lay with Mallencourt, not you.’ He touched his hand to her cheek, wiping the tears away.
‘Is it all right if I sleep beside you tonight?’ she whispered.
God, yes. It would torment him in an unholy way, but it was the first step towards a real marriage. ‘Of course. But you should know that I am wearing nothing, Regina.’
It was one matter for her to sleep in a separate room. It was quite another to feel her warmth against him. He could easily imagine lifting her nightdress to her waist, caressing her bare hip and touching her intimately. But it was far too soon for that. Instead, he placed a pillow between them so she would not feel threatened.
‘I know you won’t hurt me,’ she said.
‘Never,’ he swore.
She let out a sigh and snuggled with her backside against the pillow between them. His body was already aroused at her proximity, but he grew rock hard when she pulled his arms around her. Against his forearms, he could feel the soft curve of her breasts, and his desire only deepened. He pulled the coverlet over her, keeping his hands relaxed.
She remained facing away from him, though his feet tangled with hers. Her skin was cold, and he warmed her with his thighs against her legs. At first, she remained ramrod stiff, her fingers clutching the coverlet. But when he didn’t move, he gradually felt her beginning to relax. Her shoulders lowered, and eventually, her breathing grew more even until she fell asleep.
Dalton remained awake, as if keeping vigil over his wife. She had put such faith in him, he felt the intrinsic need to protect her. The confession she had spoken had utterly drained her, but he was grateful that she had finally trusted him with the truth.
He kept his arms around her, but despite having her so close, a voice inside warned that this was not over yet. The Bow Street Runner might uncover more than Dalton wanted him to—and above all, he had to keep Regina safe.
Regina awakened just before dawn, tangled up in her husband’s embrace. The pillow was now on the floor, and his leg rested over her hip. She grew aware of his hard length against her spine. It should have terrified her, but she realised that he was still sleeping, and it was a natural reaction to her body.
Guilt weighed down on her. He believed she had told him everything about the night of her attack—that the blackmail was because she had been attacked by a man in her father’s house. She closed her eyes, wishing that was all.
You need to tell him, her conscience warned.
But right now, it felt good to be in his arms, to feel beloved. If she told him the rest of it, everything would change.
Her cheeks burned with the lies of omission. Did he truly need to know? His Bow Street Runner could still continue the investigation and learn the identity of her father’s blackmailer.
