Page 53 of A Remarkable Rogue

“Because he still wanted money, and my parents still wanted a title.” She twisted his waistcoat in her fingers, focusing her attention on his chest. “Because I had no choice.” She whispered, so softly he could barely hear her, “They told me that if I married him, we could fabricate a story of how Robert was an orphaned relation with no place else to go, and eventually, I could bring him home with me. But if I refused to marry Rowland—” The words strangled in her throat, her pain still fresh even after all these years. “Then they would place him in an orphanage, and I’d never be able to find him.”

His heart knew what happened next… “They put him into an orphanage anyway.”

Her jerking nod confirmed it. “My parents made other arrangements with Rowland behind my back. He had no intention of ever letting me raise Robbie. That was my punishment for choosing Michael over him.” The expression of grief on her face was so desolate, so tragic that it ripped his breath away. “And my parents wanted a titled son-in-law more than they wanted their grandson.”

His heart shattered for the eighteen-year-old girl who had been so alone, so lost in her grief and betrayed by the people who should have loved her most. Good God, the hell she’d gone through… But he latched on to what would bring her solace—“Yet you found him.”

She raised her eyes to meet his. But it wasn’t hope or happiness he saw in those green depths, only endless self-recrimination and guilt.

“Two years ago. When Rowland died, I hired investigators to find Robert. He was almost four years old then, still in an orphanage. I petitioned to become his legal guardian and removed him from that awful place.” Her voice took on a sense of determination and duty, yet it wasn’t enough to expel the pain. “Now he’s in a house where he’s safe and cared for, where he will have a fine education, all the comforts he could ever want, and a chance at a good life.”

She slipped out of his arms and moved away. He didn’t try to stop her. She needed space now as much as she’d needed to be in his embrace only moments ago.

Nate watched her closely. He tried to imagine her as that frightened and grieving eighteen-year-old girl who’d had her life and all her dreams ripped away. She’d been thrust under the control of a husband who only wanted her for her money, under the command of parents so desperate to become part of thetonthat they’d sold their own daughter and abandoned their grandson.

So much of her life had been sacrificed to the flames that it was a wonder she’d managed to survive at all let alone come out the other side with such strength and determination in every aspect of her life. Except one.

Her son.

A hollow sadness ached in his chest for her. “But he doesn’t know you’re his mother, does he?”

“No, and he never will. He thinks he’s a distant Rowland relative, and that’s how it will stay.” She took another step away from him, as if she were afraid he might reach for her again. “This is the best I can do for him.”

“You can do more. You can be a full mother to him.”You can love him.“But you’re afraid of scandal. That’s why you’re denying him a mother and you your own son because you care what the damnedtonthinks.”

“Yes, I fear scandal—forhim.” She clenched her fist against her bosom as she admitted guiltily, “What kind of life could he have if people knew the truth about him? I would never allow him to suffer like that.” She protectively grasped her locket. “Robert just turned six. His governess sends me regular updates and occasionally a drawing or some other kind of keepsake from him.” She hesitated as if wondering if she could trust Nate with a precious secret. “This one is my most treasured.”

She held up the locket, then flicked the tiny latch and opened it to reveal a curl of dark blond hair secured with a tiny blue ribbon.

Nate’s hand shook as he gently stroked the soft hair. She wore this locket always, he knew, keeping it close to her heart. Yet it wasn’t grief for her that pierced him as he stared at the memento but envy. That she should have even this small, tiny bit of her son when he had nothing of his own.

He dropped his hand away.

“Even if I could,” she whispered with her attention riveted to the locket, “it’s too late now.”

“It’s not.” He was desperate for her to realize that she could still make amends, still find absolution and forgiveness. “Your son is alive.” That was all that mattered. “You can still be part of his life. He’s old enough now to—”

“No.” She gave a fierce shake of her head. “I won’t hurt him again! That’s what it would do if I brought him into my life, and I wouldneverharm him.” Catching her breath, she admitted, “I will do anything to keep him safe.Anything. Including never being his mother.”

A primal ferocity radiated from her, like a lioness protecting her cub. With a flash of horrible clarity, Nate suddenly understood every bit of her role with Scepter, why she’d played a part in threatening Henry Everett, and why she’d been so desperate to deliver the message to Braxton. Not to save her own life but to save her son’s.

“That’s what Scepter used to blackmail you,” he murmured, afraid to speak it any louder. “Not threats of revealing his existence but threats to his life.”

She nodded. “I thought I could protect him. But now…” Pressing the back of her hand against her mouth, a pained shudder swept through her. When she found her voice again, it emerged raw and frightened. “They’re going to kill him, aren’t they? Because of what I’ve done, because I told you about Braxton.”

“I willnotlet them harm your son, I promise you.” Just as he wouldn’t let them harm the mother. He gritted his teeth at the pain in his arm as he pulled on his bloodied jacket. “I’ll go to Warwickshire to make certain he’s safe and—”

“I’m coming with you.” She rushed to the door and called out for Danby. “You’re not leaving me behind.”

“Oh yes, I am.” He took her arm and led her back from the hall. “I’ll send for St James. He’ll come for you this morning, then move you out of the city as soon as he can. First, though, he has to resolve matters about General Braxton.”

She froze. “Why?”

He hesitated to tell her. She was already upset, but he couldn’t keep the truth from her. Keeping secrets had already put both her life and her son’s in danger. “Braxton’s dead. He died this morning in the attack.”

Her face drained to a ghostly pale, and she reached for a chair to steady herself. “And the meaning behind his blackmail message—Bois Saint-Louis?”

He shook his head. “I’m hoping Clayton Elliott can find out. Otherwise, we’re at a dead end again.” He frowned grimly. “Except for you.”