Page 15 of The Lyon’s Last Gamble (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #80)

C hristopher could count on one hand the number of times he had promenaded with a lass. It wasn’t anything he partook in back home, and since he’d been in London, he hadn’t spent any time with reputable women to find himself in the situation. Whitney, excluded, of course.

The lass deserved to be promenaded. Hell, she deserved to be with a man worthy of her reputation and social station. He didn’t think he fit the note for that.

Currently, she had her hand curled around the crook of his elbow as they walked the path, passing people that he had never seen before. Most passed by with a nod of their head or a smile, but there were a few that as soon as they noticed Whitney, their eyes rounded and they hurried away, whispering excitedly to each other.

He had no idea what the fuss was about, and while he could ignore them, the way Whitney stiffened beside him let him ken that she couldn’t.

“Are ye alright, lass?” He asked after the third group of people had the same negative reaction.

She sighed and the look she gave him nearly broke his heart in two. “I think we have promenaded enough, have we not? Maybe we can return home now?”

He frowned and his eyes scanned the people walking to and fro, wondering what their issue was.

“We can, if that is your wish.” He turned them in the direction of where their carriage waited. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded softly. Pausing, he forced her to face him, and he gently swept a curled tendril behind her ear. Letting his fingers linger just a moment longer than he should, he then ran his fingers down her jawline. “I ken we are near strangers, yet I can tell when something is amiss. We are to be married in two days. Tell me. Ye ken I will find out eventually.”

She took in a shuddering breath. “There are some things that aren’t easy to tell.” Her eyes broke from his and focused over his shoulder. “My past is one of those things. Everyone’s reactions are a direct result from that.”

“Lass, look at me.” With his thumb and forefinger, he drew her chin to him. “I dinna care what your past looks like. Hell, my past is a cess pit. I told ye some, but no’ all. Tell me yours and we can work through it together.”

A single tear pooled in her eye and trailed down her cheek. He swiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

“Let us get to the carriage and away from the eyes of people that are upsetting ye. Then ye can tell me.” He bent so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Deal?”

For a long moment she held his gaze but finally nodded.

“Good.” He clasped her hand and led her away.

Tucked away in the carriage, Christopher sat across from Whitney, who looked like she wanted some space. He hadn’t given the coachman the signal to go yet, so they sat there quietly.

Fighting the temptation to urge her on, he held his tongue. He got the feeling that this was something that she needed to do on her own, and as much as he wanted to ken what was going on, he wouldn’t force it from her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Whitney finally spoke.

“Since you are going to find out anyway, I shall tell you. Let me preface it by saying that if you would like to find some way of ending our upcoming union after finding out, I will not stop you.”

“Lass.”

She held up her hand and he snapped his mouth shut.

“Those girls snickering and sending me looks of disgust before they hurried away, whispering behind my back, were all former acquaintances of mine. Normally, I might say former friends, but they showed their true colors when I needed them most. I learned they were not my friends at all.” She rolled her lips inward and gazed out the window, her eyes watery with unshed tears she refused to let fall.

“When I came of age and was introduced into society, I hated every minute of it. I didn’t want a husband. I didn’t like the idea of being paraded in front of the ton like a prized pig on display.”

He chuckled, unable to contain his reaction at her description.

She pierced him with a glare, and he cleared his throat, straightening in his seat. “I am no’ laughing at ye, lass. Just at the picture ye paint. I can only imagine how that must feel.”

“It is an awful feeling. I only wanted it to be done. When one man seemed to understand my plight, and offered me an escape, I took it, accepting it like a salvation. Little did I know it was all a ploy. He had no real feelings for me.” She broke eye contact, but not before he saw the hurt that resided there.

“Ye loved him.”

She sniffled and nodded. “I did. I believed his sweet words. His promises of what our future would look like. He knew exactly what to say. As if he could read my mind and knew what I wanted to hear.”

Anger bubbled up inside of his chest. Whoever the bastard was, he’d hunt him down and make him pay for the hurt he’d caused Whitney. He took a sharp intake of breath, surprised at his own reaction for a lass that he had just practically met.

“We,” she paused as if searching for the right words to say. “We did more than court. I don’t think I need to go into specifics for you to understand what I am inferring.”

His eyes rounded. Not at her actions. He could understand how a lass would fall under the spell of carefully chosen words from a man that was only thinking about what he could gain from the situation. The man was vile.

Going through the actions he did kenning the result it would have on Whitney and then leaving her alone to deal with the consequences.

Disgusting.