Page 68 of The Duke of Deceit

He twisted around to search her face, and the sadness he saw there nearly undid him. “Your father?”

She gave a jerking nod and refused to meet his eyes. “I told you he left us. What I didn’t tell you is that he left…because of me.” The confession came hoarse and full of pain. “I yelled at him, told him he was a terrible father, a lazy drunk, a selfish waste of a man—I told him that we would be better off without him, and that unless he changed, he needed to leave.” Her voice lowered so much that he barely heard her add, “So that’s exactly what he did.”

His heart broke for her.Good Lord.For her to blame herself for something like that, to carry that guilt inside her all these years… Instantly, all he knew about her snapped into place, and he realized why she’d done what she had. He even understoodnow why she had dedicated her life to her art, because she could control the world she created on her canvas, because she could make that world perfect and escape the guilt that never left her slender shoulders.

Slowly, Lucien pushed himself to his feet. He turned to face her, placed his hands on the chair arms on both sides of her, and leaned in to bring his face level with hers. “Listen to me, Jessamyn.” He stared hard into her eyes even as he noted the watery tears forming in their depths. “It was not your fault that your father left. He was a heartless bastard who abandoned—”

“You can’t say that. You didn’t know him.”

Anger heated his chest that even now she would defend that man, all in order to keep the blame on herself. “I know he abandoned his children when they needed him, and any man who does that is a heartless bastard in my book.”

Her expression softened with understanding. After all, his own father had done the same thing to Phillip.

“His leaving wasnotyour fault,” he repeated. He wished he could simply will her to believe it, but he knew she still adamantly blamed herself and would for a very long time. “I know because I used to blame myself for our father abandoning Phillip, because I was the son and heir he wanted. It took me years to finally understand that the blame washis, not mine. For God’s sake, Jess.” He shook his head. “Do you really think a sixteen-year-old girl could make a grown man do anything he didn’t want to do or hadn’t already been considering?”

She blinked rapidly to blink away the gathering tears, even as understanding finally registered on her face.

He caressed her cheek. “I’ll forgive you, Jess, if you forgive yourself first.”

He dropped his gaze to her mouth.Sweet Lucifer, how much he wanted to kiss her! Just lean in, capture her full lips beneath his, and kiss her until she melted bonelessly in the chair, untilshe moaned softly with rising desire and fiercely kissed him back with all the passion he knew she possessed. He’d seen the fire in her, and he craved it the way deserts craved the rain. From the way she held her breath, her lips parting invitingly, she wanted exactly that, too.

But he couldn’t. Not tonight. She was too vulnerable, and any encounter tonight wouldn’t end with only a kiss.

Lucien cleared his throat and straightened, dropping his hand away. “I can’t escort you home tonight. I rode my saddle horse from London, and the farm doesn’t have a proper carriage. You’ll have to spend the night here.”

Good Lord, that sounded far more seductive than he meant. Jess must have realized it, too, from the way her eyes widened.

“There’s a spare bedroom upstairs,” he clarified. “You can sleep there, and I’ll take you home in the morning.”

She nodded, then bit her bottom lip. “And what excuse do I give for being gone all night, only to arrive on the arm of a rake?”

“You’re a grown woman who knows her own mind.” He held out his hand. “You don’t have to give any excuse at all.”

Clearly, she was unconvinced by that argument. Yet she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her to her feet.

He took a candle from the wall sconce and guided her upstairs through the sleeping house, all dark, quiet, and closed up securely for the night. There was no sound from Phillip’s bedroom as they passed his door at the top of the stairs, while battling snores came from Mr. and Mrs. Porter’s room directly across the hall. That was the reason he had claimed the bedroom at the far end of the house as his for nights like these when he needed to stay over, peacefully separated from the Porters’ snores by a dressing room and sitting room. Jess would be fine in the bedroom across from his.

“It’s small but comfortable,” he assured her as he opened the door to show her inside. He placed the candle on the fireplacemantel, and its small circle of light revealed a bed, dresser, and washstand. “Would you like me to bring up a pitcher of water for you?”

“That’s not necessary.” But she seemed preoccupied as she swept her gaze around the room.

“My bedroom is across the hall in case you need anything.”

She gave a curt nod.

“Goodnight, Jessamyn.”

With a parting nod, he retreated to his room and stepped into the cool darkness. A slant of moonlight falling through the window cast soft shadows around the large bed, but the rest of the room was dark, including the fireplace where he hadn’t bothered to have a fire built, not thinking he’d be spending a second night. But he didn’t need any light. He’d spent enough time here to know where every piece of furniture sat in his three rooms. A farmhouse with a master’s suite of rooms… It would have been preposterous, if it wasn’t also a pretend farmhouse.

A fraud, he supposed as he removed his cravat and began to unbutton his waistcoat. Just like him.

The soft click of the door caught his attention, and he stilled, his hand on his chest.

Jessamyn stood in the doorway, framed in the moonlight. His throat went dry at the sight of her.

“You said…in case I needed anything…” she said haltingly.

She was nervous, and he didn’t blame her. At that moment, he was as nervous as a green lad himself. His heart somersaulted hard against his ribs, as if he’d never had a woman in his bedroom before.