Page 31 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
‘There is a reason you carry that knife.’
‘Because it is so much better to have the knife and not need it, than to need it and wish you had it.’
‘A good philosophy. I cannot argue with you.’
‘When you press me about my past, you are no different than him. Men who think that they are owed something they are not. I have said that I don’t wish to speak about Scotland. That it doesn’t matter, and yet you persist.’
‘It is not the same, with my apologies. It is not the same. You are caring for my children, and if there are things in your past that I need to know about I feel entitled to ask them.’
‘After this many days you still do not trust me?’
He lifted his brow, looking pointedly at the place she had just put the knife.
‘It is to defend myself. As you could see.’
‘In many ways it gives me even more confidence in you.’
She nodded once. ‘I would defend your children as well.’
‘I gather that.’
He moved closer to her, and she shrank just slightly. ‘West...’
Her use of his name, even if not his Christian name, but the familiar name by which his friends knew him, stopped him.
‘I would never hurt you,’ he said.
She nodded slowly. ‘I know that. You are not the kind of man who derives pleasure from the fear of others.’
He shook his head. ‘No. I am not.’
His father had been that man. He had loved to hold them all hostage with his wild rages. With his capricious moods. They had all had front row seats to his tumultuous love affairs, and his mother had been torn asunder by them.
It was the pain that his father had seemed to enjoy the most. A true sadist.
And while there were elements of sexual sadism that West himself took some enjoyment in, only when it was mutually desired. One should never subject another human being to that which they did not joyfully agree to.
It was not enough for him to have simple, grudging compliance. Even when he bought women he insisted upon women who shared his tastes. Not women who simply endured.
A man like his father, a man like Pelham, they were...
‘If I had my way men like that would hang. Every one of them. Because what you and I both know to be true is that they don’t change. It is not a moment. It is not one instance in a study. It is their way of looking at the world. It is the enjoyment they get from it. It is heedless and reckless and selfish. And we would all be better off if they did not draw breath.’
A smile touched her lips. ‘It pleases me to hear you say that.’
It was a moment where they connected. A moment where they understood each other. Wholeheartedly.
‘I will accompany you to your room. With the other guests in the house, I will not leave you to make your way alone.’
She hesitated. ‘Thank you.’
Then she stopped at his desk and picked up a folded piece of paper. ‘I was here to deliver this.’
‘I had come to retrieve it.’
He took the letter from her hands, and their fingertips brushed.
He felt a lick of flame down low in his gut, and mentally cursed himself as shameless for feeling that heat when she had only just been harassed.
