Page 65 of Last Night with the Duke
Peers always thought they were fair. Hiding her hurt in anger, she glared at him. “My mother’s brother said those words to her about Myles Graham, the man she was in love with and wanted to marry.”
“I was going to say you led me to believe you were a poor, distant relative of Sir Timothy Swift’s, and there was no one to offer you protection or help,” he said tightly. “There has never been anything common about you, Esmeralda, and now I know why. You aren’t.”
His words hit in the heart of her heart and her legs went weak. He’d never know how desperately she needed to hear that from him right now. She wanted to be worthy. To be worthy of him. Suddenly she felt close to that dreaded feminine weakness called crying.
Instead, she reached deep into her reserve of strength and said, “It’s also true that I am a poor relative of Sir Timothy. My father never accrued wealth of his own.”
“What I don’t know is why you aren’t under the care and protection of the current Lord Mayeforth. I know he’s ill, but that doesn’t absolve him from his duty to you and Josephine.”
“He has no duty. My mother was disowned by her brother,” Esmeralda said, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears again for all her mother had lost and for the loss of her mother. “Banished from her brother’s house, his wealth, and his life. From all her family.”
Griffin gave her an incredulous stare. “She might have been, but you shouldn’t have been. You and Josephine are granddaughters of a viscount and should be treated as such. You shouldn’t be a chaperone for my sisters’ Season, you should be under Lord Mayeforth’s household and having your own Season.”
Esmeralda huffed. “I have no reason to believe my cousin is any different from his father. I have no desire to be under his roof or his guardianship.”
“You deserve it by right of your birth.”
“So did my mother, but she was denied it simply because she disobeyed her brother,” she offered earnestly. “He told her if she married Myles Graham she was never to show her face at his house again. She didn’t. Neither shall I. I have proven I don’t need his assistance to take care of Josephine.”
Griffin searched her eyes. “It’s his responsibility. If you wouldn’t go to him for yourself, why not for Josephine?”
“Because she is my sister.”
A quizzical expression settled on his face. “There’s more that you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”
“No,” she expelled on choppy breath. Tears threatened again, but she held them at bay. “We may have different fathers, but it matters not to me. I will do everything I need to do to protect her.”
“That has never been in doubt.” His voice had softened. His questioning glance was replaced with concern. “I see how well you care for her, but you didn’t answer my question.”
Holding tightly to her emotions, refusing to let her voice waver, she said, “Josephine knows little about our mother and nothing about her past with the Mayeforth family. I intend to keep it that way.”
“Why?”
Oh, those unwanted tears continued to threaten her. How could she explain to him and not cry? She knew how Griffin persisted when he wanted something. He would be relentless until he had the answers he sought. She had to tell him before his intuitiveness and gentleness made her fall into his arms and weep.
“She loved her father. He was loving to her, wrote poetry for her, read it to her. She wrote poetry until her father’s death. Now, she swears she hates it, and I know it’s just her way of coping with his death. It was difficult for her. I refuse to let Josephine know her mother’s family didn’t approve of him. That, in fact, they called him a wandering Irish poet who would never take care of her. They said she would die penniless and unhappy.” Her voice broke on a sob, which she sucked back quickly. “And the horrible, horrible truth of it is that they were right. My mother was wrong about him.” Her voice broke on the last word.
“Esmeralda.”
“No.”
Griffin reached for her, but she spun away and wiped quickly at the wetness on her cheeks. “No,” she said again, brushing off his concern. If he held her in his arms and pressed her head to his chest, she would start weeping and only heaven knew when she would stop. She cleared her throat, wiped her eyes again, and turned back to face him. “Do not feel sorry for me, or Josephine, or even for my mother. I don’t want Josephine in Society. I don’t want her looked down upon because of who her father was. I don’t have to tell you how unforgiving Society can be.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Do not dismiss me from this post.” Her voice broke again, but she sniffed, shored up her courage, and added, “Not after you begged me to come here.”
Griffin gave her an incredulous stare and moved to stand toe-to-toe with her again. “Begged you?” He lowered his head, bringing his face to where it nearly touched hers. “I beg no one, Esmeralda.”
She leaned away from him. “I could have chosen another word.”
“How about ‘insisted.’”
“You hounded me.”
“I outmanipulated you.”
“You gave into my demands without really putting up much of a fight.”
