drew a shuddering breath. ‘I fear you will be angry and hate me.’
‘I could never hate you.’
He had not denied that he might be angry, but she must find the courage to continue. Her words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other.
‘It…happened one Christmas Eve. I was home from school and my father had friends staying. I was asleep when Father’s friend fell on me and, though I woke instantly, I could not fight him off. He had been drinking and the stench of his breath sickened me. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth with his hand. Beneath his weight I was helpless. He was my father’s best friend, but he…he raped me and then told me that he would ruin Papa if I told anyone what he’d done.’
‘Raped you? My God!’ Justin looked as if someone had punched him hard. He recoiled and seemed stunned, turning away from her and then sitting down heavily in one of the comfortable wing chairs placed in pairs about the salon. ‘Forgive me, this is a shock. It must have been a terrible experience for you, Lucinda.’
Lucinda went to him and knelt on the floor by his side. ‘I think even that was not the worst of it, Justin. I was distressed, but could tell no one—and then, at Easter, my mother discovered that I was with child.’
Justin looked down into her face, concern in his eyes. The thought of her suffering wrenched at his heart. She was so innocent and sweet—how could any man treat her so vilely? Anger raged through him, but for the monster that had violated her. He did not doubt her word for an instant. He reached down and touched her cheek as she gazed earnestly up at him.
‘Your father covered the scandal, of course. Most fathers would do the same. What happened next?’
‘I was sent to live with Grandmama. She was very unkind to me and caned my hands whenever it pleased her. When my child was born I was told it had died…but still my father would not allow me to go home or to enter society. Only after his death was I allowed the visit to Harrogate with my aunt.’
‘Was that why you kept your distance from me at first?’
‘My father told me I was dirty, a thing of shame, and that no decent man would want me. Both he and my mother said I should never marry. I defied her to wed you—and I meant to tell you the truth that night and beg you to forgive me, but then the note arrived and—’
‘You were frightened and ran away.’
Justin stood up. He reached down, drawing her to her feet so that they looked into each other’s eyes.
‘Do you have the letter?’
Lucinda hesitated. She hated to lie to him, but if she told him the whole truth he would want to know if she had found her daughter and he would force her to give her up, because to do anything else would cause a scandal.
‘No…I am sorry, Justin. I destroyed it. I should never have married you. I know you must hate me now. I shall go away and you may have the marriage annulled. All I ask is a small sum of money so that I may live quietly until I can find some respectable work.’
She would not have asked so much if it were not for her child. Until she could find a home of her own and a nursemaid to live in, Lucinda must pay for lodgings and the care of her daughter. Surely he would allow her something?
For a moment he studied her in silence, then, ‘No, I shall not have the marriage annulled,’ Justin said, his tone suddenly harsh and cold. The sound of it sent shivers down her spine and she looked at him, startled by his change of mood. ‘I’ve had enough of gossip and of being laughed at behind my back, Lucinda. You are my wife and you will accept your duties as a wife.’
‘Justin…’ She faltered, her throat tight with emotion. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she held them back. ‘I know how angry you must feel…’
‘Do you, my dear?’ His bitter tone flayed her like a whiplash. ‘Had you trusted me enough to confide in me from the start, none of this need have happened.’
‘Forgive me. I was so anxious.’ Her voice was low, scarcely more than a whisper. ‘I did not think how it would look. Besides, if you had told everyone I had gone to my sick mother, it would not have seemed so bad.’
‘Had I found your letter at the start, I might have done so.’ He turned from her abruptly, walking to the window to gaze out. ‘If you cared for me you might have trusted me, Lucinda. I would have given you a fair hearing. Do you not think it was your duty to tell me before you accepted my proposal?’
‘Yes. I think now that I should have told you. I—I was afraid you would not wish to marry me if you knew that I had such a terrible secret.’
Justin turned to look at her, his face proud, eyebrows raised. ‘You wished to be the Duchess of Avonlea, I suppose?’
‘No…’ Lucinda hesitated, then, in a voice caught with tears, ‘I loved you, Justin. I loved you from the start. I suppose I hoped that if we were married you might forgive me.’
‘You thought I would accept you rather than face the scandal of divorce?’ His top lip curled scornfully. ‘Well, you were right in that, my dear. I have no intention of either annulling the marriage or divorcing you. I hope in time that we may begin again, have a sensible arrangement. I need heirs after all and you are my wife. I dare say we may brush over the scandal now that you have returned. I shall say that you were called to the bedside of a relative and your letter was misplaced—which is in part the truth.’
‘Justin…’ She took a step towards him, her hand outstretched. It fell to her side as she saw the anger in his handsome face. ‘Will you not believe that I care for you? Will you not try to forgive me?’
‘I shall certainly endeavour to forgive you,’ he said, but his eyes were cold, his mouth thinned with anger. ‘But you will forgive me if I do not fall at your feet and tell you that everything is as it was. You will remain my wife and I hope in time we may find a way to be comfortable together—but as for the feelings…the affection I bore you, for the moment I must be honest and tell you that I feel nothing but disappointment.’
‘Please…’ She gave a cry of distress. ‘I beg you not to hate me, Justin. I know that I have hurt you, but I was in some distress myself.’
‘I fail to understand why.’ His eyes held neither compassion nor warmth. ‘You had the advantage of me for you knew your situation. Why the letter should occasion such shock I do not know—unless you meant to conceal the truth from me forever?’
How could she explain? Justin might have understood had she been able to put her feelings into words—but the shock, the numbness, incredulity and fear she’d felt on learning of her child’s existence were too difficult to express.
‘I was asked to pay ten thousand pounds for the writer’s silence.’
‘Had you given the letter to me, I should either have paid or discovered the man’s identity and threatened him with imprisonment.’
‘You would still have hated me.’
‘I do not hate you,’ Justin said, a flicker of regret in his eyes. ‘I feel hurt, betrayed by your lack of trust, Lucinda. Had you confided in me at the beginning, I think I might have learned to accept the fact that you were raped. You were not to blame for that—or for bearing a child—but your deceit, your thoughtlessness in running away and your lack of faith in me, have given me some disquiet. I must say honestly that you are not the woman I thought you.’
His quiet words, his dignity and the hurt in his eyes struck into her heart. She was overcome with guilt, realising just how deeply her thoughtless behaviour had hurt him. Justin was angry with her now. Lucinda was not sure why she had not told him the whole truth. It would have been better to have the whole thing out, but she had hesitated and now it was too late. He would undoubtedly either return the child to the woman who had so mistreated her or have her adopted by a worthy couple.
No, she would not give her daughter up! Although it was only two weeks since