Page 34 of Love with a Notorious Rake

Paris looked to her, then shook his head. “No, thank you, we will be fine.”

Once inside the parlor, Paris closed the door as Cristyn removed her shawl, laying it in her lap once she sat on the settee.

“You must forgive Mrs. Trubshaw. She is worried for your safety. Mr. Green, the grocer’s assistant, was robbed on Mill Lane not three nights past. He suffered blows about the head and lost ten shillings. Unfortunately, the threat is real.”

“Yes, I understand. In the future, I will inform her if I decide to go for a walk. However, she is much like a guard at the palace gate. I cannot be a prisoner in my room.”

Paris smiled. “Truly, she means well. You are forthright, Cristyn; if she impinges on your privacy, tell her.” He paused, his expression turned serious. “And speaking of impinging on privacy, this is none of my business, but I shall ask it anyway: Did you meet the young man from the mill?”

Cristyn’s blood froze in her veins. What to say? She remained silent, trying to craft a reply.

“I only ask because what little I witnessed appeared emotional. You know this man.”

“Yes,” she replied. “But it is my business.” Cristyn spoke in a polite but firm tone.

Paris sighed. “I shouldn’t interfere, but your father mentioned you were nursing a broken heart and asked me to look out for you. Don’t be angry; he did not mention any details, only wrote of it because he knew I would be empathetic.”

“I see.” She tamped down her growing annoyance, for Paris’s tone was conciliatory and kind.

“There is an age difference between us, Cristyn. But I have come to care for you. You are bright, kind, capable, and unfailingly honest.”

“Thank you, Paris. I have come to care for you as a beloved uncle. Is that possible in three short weeks?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. People make connections in many different circumstances.”

“Why is it you have never visited us in Standon?”

A melancholy look crossed his striking features. “Ah. You’re young. I probably should not be discussing it with you, for it is a delicate matter. No one wants to be judged.”

She laid her hand briefly on top of his. “I would never judge you.” Yet she’d judged Aidan quickly enough. Regret covered her for allowing her hurt feelings to come spilling out during their conversation.

“The truth is your mother forbade me to visit. After she passed, I had become too caught up in my own heartbreak drama. Hence my charity medical journey across the country. At any rate, I was not in the right frame of mind to visit old chums.”

“You knew my mother?” How surprising.

“Yes. We all met when your father, Elwyn Hughes, and I became fast friends at university. Gethin was courting your mother then.” Paris paused; his mouth formed a taut line. “I am not quite sure how to say this except to reveal the truth: Your mother wanted nothing to do with me when she found out that I prefer…men.” He gazed at her, as if waiting for her response. But Cristyn kept her astonishment hidden. “Thankfully, both your father and Elwyn did not shun me when they learned of my proclivities. We continued to correspond, and when they traveled to London, we met up for a meal. However, I respected your mother’s wishes and stayed clear.”

“I’m sorry. I would have liked to have known you sooner.” She gave Paris a warm smile.

“I also regret us not knowing each other before this. But we do now, and will remain good friends, I’m sure.”

“I agree. But in what way did Father believe you would be empathetic to my plight?”

Paris sat back in his chair. “I had a serious love affair with the oldest son of an earl. It was ill-fated from the start; we could never be together. He was the heir, and was expected to marry and see to the next heir. When you fall in love, you open yourself up to all sorts of vulnerabilities. I could not and would not deny my feelings. I plundered forth. A smashed-beyond-repair heart ultimately was the result.” He laughed cynically. “The tragic thing is he returned my feelings. Alas, life is hard enough without complicating it with an illicit, and, dare I say, illegal romance. Hence my journey. Anything to forget. It’s why you came here, is it not? To forget your broken heart?” he asked, his voice soft with understanding.

Tears formed in her eyes, not only for her own plight, but for Paris’s tragic tale. Cristyn nodded. “Yes. What are the odds that he would be in the same village? It makes no sense. He’s at the mill temporarily. I couldn’t stay away. I had to know…I had to see him. Oh, this is terrible. I don’t know what to do.”

“Does he return your feelings?”

“He says he is not sure what his emotions consist of. You see, I met him at the sanatorium. He was my patient. Scandalous.”

“But the heart knows,” Paris whispered.

“Yes.”

“I am not as studied in addiction as your father, but I will concede I’ve witnessed what havoc it can wreak, not only physically, but emotionally, in a few of my patients. Even among the upper classes. If he is still on the other side of recovery, I would have to agree he would be unsure about many things, feelings most of all.”

Cristyn bit her lower lip. “I know this, but selfishly wallowed in my heartbreak instead of…oh, blast. We argued before he left Standon; we argued again tonight.”