She hadn’t needed to escort him to his parent’s home. But he’d asked her and she hadn’t hesitated to agree. And now they stood in front of a townhouse in a reputable part of London. The paint on the door was not peeling, nor the hedges overgrown, as Grace’s townhome. There wasn’t even a feeling of sadness or loss. It was well kept.
Even a child would surmise the family was unconcerned with money. Probably titled. They were not living in poverty. They were not starving. They were not pining for him.
Alex had a feeling this was a horrible, terrible idea.
“You found their address so easily,” he said, more to evade the inevitable than to make conversation.
Grace shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but he knew what she was thinking, the same thing as he. Perhaps he wouldn’t be well received after all. “I knew if they had even stepped foot in society, Lady Maxwell would have heard of them. I promise you, she will be discreet.”
And his parents had been out in society. Apparently his mother was known and respected among the
ton.
And Dem….Dem was a local rake and favorite among the ladies, a title Alex most likely would have claimed if his life hadn’t been stolen at such a young age. Yet, he held no bitterness. No, because the thought of being married off to some spoiled, titled woman sickened him. He’d gone through years of hell, but perhaps, in the end, if Grace stayed by his side, the pain would be worth it.
He glanced down at Grace, her face half hidden under the rim of her straw bonnet. She was so serene, so lovely as the wind tugged at the loose tendrils framing her features and the glow from the lamps on either side the door kissed her skin. She would stand by his side and perhaps, once he confronted his past, they could have a life. That thought, and only that thought, spurred him forward.
Alex lifted his hand and let his fist fall. The sound thundered through the evening air disrupting the thump of carriage wheels over cobbled lanes. His nerves were on edge. He felt like a damn debutante at her first ball. It could go smashingly, or wretchedly.
They didn’t have to wait long. Moments later Alex heard footsteps from inside the house. He stiffened, his heart slamming wildly in his chest, but he managed to stand his ground. He could feel the frantic pulse at Grace’s wrist and knew she was as nervous as he. The realization calmed him for some reason, knowing that she cared, that she would not abandon him to his fate...
The door opened and a graying butler stood before them, his long face dour, his expression leery. “Yes?”
“Is the family in residence?” he asked, knowing quite well they were.
The man quirked an arrogant brow and Alex had the sudden urge to slam his fist into his face. He should expect such arrogance. He should get used to such show of disrespect. Once the world uncovered what he truly was, no one would look him in the eyes again.
“My lady is not taking callers.” He started to shut the door. Alex shoved his foot inside. In any other instance, he would have found the shocked look on the man’s face amusing.
“I will see my mother.”
“Mother?” The butler paled slightly, yet suspicion also clouded his pale blue eyes. “Sir, I think you have the wrong address.”
Oh how he wished. How he wished he could pretend as if he had no family. How he wished he could merely leave with Grace, never to return. But Grace deserved more and if he could offer her a royal lineage, perhaps he wouldn’t feel so wanting.
“Henry, what is it?” Even years later, the soft, feminine voice was as familiar as his own and suddenly Alex was a child once more. Time seemed to actually stand still for one brief moment.
The butler stepped aside and his mother came into view. The same petite woman, but shockingly older. Her upswept hair, which had once been blonde, was now peppered with gray. Wrinkles that had never been there before lined the areas around her blue eyes. Alex swept his gaze down the rich velvet of her dress, back up to her face, looking for signs that she hadn’t changed.
She was thinner, perhaps life had taken its toll, but she had recovered for she was dressed for a ball. He couldn’t help but notice with some shock, the large blue sapphires that hung from her ears and neck. Love and anger combined. How he’d missed her, yet at the same time the bitter part of him lifted its ugly head. She’d obviously gotten over his disappearance.
“Can we help…” The confusion cleared as did the color in her face. She went pale, her blue eyes growing wide. “Alex?”
He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He hadn’t cried in over a decade, yet felt the sudden urge. “Mother.”
Her head lolled back and she started to sink toward the ground. Alex reached her before she hit the floor. Lord, she was light, so frail. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d expected. He cradled her thin body to him, marveling over the difference. He’d been as tall as her when he’d left. Now… now he towered over his mother.
“Where is the sitting room?” Grace demanded of the butler.
“Th...there,” Henry stammered out, pointing down the hall. Alex carried his mother’s still body toward the room, watching her face, praying she recovered. He could hear Grace snapping out orders for smelling salts, a wet washing cloth and warm tea and he thanked God she had escorted him.
What a lovely way of reentering his family’s life. He’d practically killed her. Killed his own mother with his sudden appearance. Or perhaps she had fainted from horror. Damn it all, he should have stayed put.
He placed her gently upon a richly upholstered settee. Still she didn’t move. Seeing her so quiet, so pale, so
old
, Alex’s reserve wavered. Graced rushed into the room, smelling salts in hand. She knelt beside Alex and reached toward his mother. Her experienced hands did not tremble; Grace had done this before.
“No.” His mother swatted Grace’s hand away. “I’m well enough.”
Startled, Grace pulled back and glanced worriedly at Alex. He barely breathed as he waited for his mother to open her eyes. Her thin lashes lifted, those blue eyes focusing on him, peering deep within his soul, searching for the truth.
“My God, Alex, is it truly you?”
He nodded, unable to say more.
Her gaze traveled his face as if attempting to find something,
anything,
familiar. “You look… so very different, so grown up. But your eyes… your eyes are the same.” She reached out a thin hand and placed it against the side of his face. Her cold fingers trembled, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought you gone forever. Where have you been?”
Alex resisted the urge to reach out to her, to draw comfort from her presence. “First, tell me that everyone is well,” his voice was gruff with emotion. This was his mother, the woman who had kissed his bruises. The woman who would sneak food into his room when Father said no dinner for some mishap. The woman who gave him life, for God’s sake. So why did he feel as if she was a stranger?
She pushed herself upright, smoothing her skirts down her lap. “Yes, your father, Dem, all of us. We are well.” Tears trembled on her eyelashes before trailing down her pale cheeks.
Her tears confused him, made him uneasy. Had they suffered his absence at all? Or was she merely crying because he’d given her a start?
A maid rushed into the room, the tea service on her tray clattering in her haste. Alex was vaguely aware of Grace pouring, heard her murmured thanks, but he couldn’t look away from his mother. From the wrinkles on her face, the graying of her hair. Perhaps, for some odd reason, he thought time would stand still while he was gone. But life had continued on; his family had loved and lived while he had rotted away.
“A year after you disappeared….” His mother paused and glanced at Grace, as if judging her worth and trustworthiness.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Grace.”
The woman hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. They’d always been a private family, keeping their secrets close. “Very well. The year after you left your father worked out a deal with the British government. He provided information, and in return we were able to stay here, unharmed. We’ve done…quite well.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. It was for nothing. Everything he had done was for nothing. Years of hell. Destroying his reputation.
His hands curled into his thighs, the room becoming a faded reality. If he had held tight for only another year he wouldn’t have had to sell his body and soul. He wouldn’t have ruined his life.
“So you see, we worried for nothing.” His mother gave him a weak smile, then leaned forward, grasping onto his hands and jerking him back into reality. “Oh Alex, please tell me where you have been? Why did you leave? I thought you dead!”
The truth.
Alex stumbled to his feet, stepping back and pulling away from her. How could he tell her the truth now? His mother was watching him, expecting answers. Grace was watching him, expecting the truth. But how could he tell his mother what had happened? How could he watch the spark of hope fade from her eyes?
He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. No, he wouldn’t regret his past. He had done what he had to do for his family and because of that, he had met Grace…the very reason he stood here now. The reason he would humiliate himself and tell his family the truth. The very reason he now wanted a life.
And it would sort itself out and everything would be well, as Grace always seemed to think. Everything could be well now that he was here. Yet, even as he thought the words, he knew nothing could ever be normal again. Even if they forgave him, they would never look at him the same.
“Alex?” His mother’s smile faded.
“My dear,” a gruff, male voice boomed through the room.
Alex jerked around, facing the door.
“Henry said…” His father paused just over the threshold, his voice trailing off as confusion wavered over his features. The man had gained weight in his midsection, his dark hair had thinned and turned gray, but he was still the dour looking brute Alex had known and feared as a child. Instead of the overwhelming emotions he’d felt when seeing his mother, at his father’s appearance Alex felt oddly numb.
“Hello, Father.”
His father took a few stumbling steps forward, for the briefest of moments, his emotions unschooled. “My God, Alex, is that you?”
Alex nodded, his only response. For one long moment not one person said a word. The only sounds where the click of the porcelain clock on the mantel and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. The very world seemed to pause, but life went on quickly enough.
His father’s face went from stunned to flushed, his anger almost palpable. “Where the hell have you been?”
This was the father he’d known. His sire had not changed in all these years. For some reason, this realization made him feel somewhat relieved. “You should sit,” Alex said patiently. He’d known all along his father would be his toughest opponent. Things would not go as easy as they had with his mother.
His father stomped toward him, a big bull of a man dressed in black, ballroom attire. They had aged, their positions had bettered, but in reality nothing had changed. His father still couldn’t control his anger and his mother would still cower before the man.
His father’s very footsteps vibrated the floorboards. “Do you know how many times your mother cried herself to sleep at night? Do you know how many months and months we searched for you? Our only consolation was that we thought you to be dead and that was why you had left without a word. And now you show up here, healthy and hale?”
Alex didn’t even flinch, although he noticed Grace’s eyes flashed toward him. The outrage and sympathy he witnessed in her gaze should have made him feel better, it didn’t. She was witnessing his father’s ire, witnessing the life he’d led, the people he’d disappointed. Was there nothing decent he could offer her?
“I did what I had to do,” he said, his voice catching.
His father paused a good five feet from him, his lips lifting into a sneer. “And what was that?” That condescending tone. The same voice he’d used when punishing them as children. That same look of disgust. Only this time Alex did not fear the man. What smirk the old man had on his face would soon be gone. He now had the power to hurt them all beyond measure.
“When I was thirteen a woman approached me. She knew who I was. She knew who you were. She knew everything about our family, including our connection to the royals.” He looked at Grace, it was easier to speak to her as if his parents weren’t in attendance. As much as he wanted to abandon this ridiculous need to speak the truth, he knew there was no turning back now. “She told me she would keep our secrets safe.”
“In exchange for vat?” his father demanded, his accent growing thick.
Alex looked the man directly into his eyes. “In exchange, I would sell my body. I would become a whore.”
His mother gasped. His father grew pale.
“You’re jesting,” his father insisted.
“It’s not true!” His mother surged to her feet, only to waver as if she would faint again. This time Alex didn’t dare go to her side. “No!” She shook her head, tears once more welling in her faded blue eyes, eyes that had once looked at him with love and kindness and now only held horror. “Please tell me it’s not true.”