Page 72 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

"Lord Carrick is your…"

"Was my father. He died twelve years ago." Matthew's voice was carefully controlled. "His eldest legitimate son took the title. My half-brother."

The man hunting her. The man holding two girls hostage. The man who'd threatened to destroy everything she'd built.

Matthew's brother.

"Heavens," she breathed.

"My mother was his maid. He was... tender with her, in his way. Would have married her, I think, if not for his heir." His mouth compressed into a hard line. "My half-brother opposed the match. He was crueler than our father ever was. To me, to my mother, to anyone he saw as beneath him."

"What happened?"

"When my father's health declined, my brother took control of the operations. Expanded them. Made them worse." His knuckles had gone white on the reins. "I was two and twenty, in the prime of my fighting career, when I learned about the trafficking. Girls bought and sold like cattle. Shipped to brothels across the country."

Florence felt sick. She'd known of Carrick’s activities, but hearing he was Matthew’s family brought new devastation to the revelation.

"I went back to kill him," Matthew said quietly. "Found out he’d be in Liverpool. Planned it for weeks. Got into his house, got past his guards, got within ten feet of his bedroom door."

"What stopped you?"

"Turned out he was there to receive a shipment. A wagon full of girls twelve, thirteen years old. They were about to be moved." He shook his head. "I couldn't walk past. Couldn't let them be taken."

"So you saved them instead."

"I freed them. Killed four men in the process." His voice was bitter. "And my brother escaped. Lived to traffic hundreds more. I wonder if I should have killed him first. Should have done both."

She reached over and gripped his arm. "You saved those girls. There’s no guarantee you would have killed your brother."

"I have played the scenarios over and over in my head. My brother has taken hundreds since then. Thousands, maybe."

"You’ve saved hundreds since then." She waited until he looked at her. "You've been fighting him for years from a distance."

His expression softened

"The priest," she said slowly, pieces clicking into place. "The one who contacted us, he met you in prison?"

"He visited me in my cell. Heard my confession of what I'd done and why." Matthew's voice roughened. "He said he'd help. Told me to keep my head down and not give up hope. A week later, your people got me out."

They rode in silence for a while. The drizzle had stopped, and pale sunlight was breaking through the clouds. The road stretched ahead, winding through empty moorland towards the distant border.

"Your turn," Matthew said finally.

"My turn?"

"You know who I am now. All of it." He glanced at her. "But I still don't know who you are. Not fully."

"You know I'm Tansley."

His eyes met hers briefly. "But you move like a lady. Speak like one. You were raised as one, not trained to become one."

She hesitated. Nell's worn dress suddenly felt like a costume.

"My father was the Marquess of Ashworth," she said. "My brother holds the title now."

Matthew nodded. "I thought I heard that when you were confronting those blackguards." He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Running brothels and rescuing prostitutes. Does your family know?"

"My brother does. He's made peace with it. Mostly. As long as I do not scandalise the family. He provides cover when I need it, asks no questions about my absences. I am five and thirty, long past the worrying age." She smiled faintly. "Our parents are dead. There's no one else to disapprove."