The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) by Kate McKinley Page B

herself. She was curious. How would he respond to such accusations? Though one could hardly call them accusations. Observations, more like. Even the gossip rags had commented on his propensity toward unscrupulous females.
    “What makes you think I would continue such associations when I am married?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. Intuition, perhaps.”
    His jaw clenched, and she had the sudden sense that she’d offended him. “You know me so well, do you?”
    “Better than most, I would say.”
    He nodded slowly.
    “I see,” he said stiffly. “And you could never countenance such a husband, I gather.”
    She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Is that so difficult to believe? That a woman would not countenance a man who fancies philandering?”
    “It’s commonplace for a man to dabbleelsewhere on occasion.”
    “Regardless of the destruction it causes…” she finished.
    He narrowed his eyes at her. “It sounds as though you are speaking from experience.”
    She swallowed. “Perhaps.”
    “Tell me.”
    He was quiet and uncompromising, offering her no polite way for her to decline. Rules and propriety had no place in her relationship with Matthias—he wouldn’t allow it. He always wanted the unabridged truth.
    “There is nothing to tell, really. My parents are only truly alive when they are tormenting each other, and infidelity is often their preferred weapon. My father delights in parading his mistresses under my mother’s nose—lavishing them with attention, buying them gifts. My mother retaliates by spending weeks away from home, presumably with her own lovers.”
    She paused. “Sometimes…I think the reason my father despises me so much is because he suspects I’m not truly his daughter.”
    Never before had she told anyone that long-held secret. She didn’t dare look at Matthias, for fear of seeing the horror on his face. Admitting such sordid secrets about her family, about her own possible parentage, was unthinkable. And yet, it felt like a release to share her suspicions with someone.
    When he spoke, his voice was calm and unaffected. “And what do you believe?”
    Tears stung the backs of her eyes and her throat felt thick. She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said as the tears began to fall. It was as though her confession had broken an invisible barrier and all of her emotions came rushing out. Pain. Fear of the truth. Utter humiliation. “I don’t know.”
    “Surely your mother has given you some indication…”
    She shook her head again, pain piercing her anew. “She won’t speak of it. When I ask her, she waves me off.” She wiped her cheeks, but the tears continued to fall. “I look nothing like my father, so I fear…I fear his suspicions are true. That his anger is warranted.”
    Her father could be anyone, in truth. According to her aunt, in the years before Gwen’s birth, her mother had taken many lovers—a painter, a servant, two dukes. She was endlessly searching for love, she’d said.
    He put his book down. “Come here. I know all too well the pain parents can cause. My mother was not kind.”
    She glanced up at him then, and to her relief, she saw only compassion in his striking blue eyes. Rising to her feet, she walked to him and fell into his lap. He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She wept into his shirt as he pressed his lips to her hair, stroking her arm gently.
    It was several moments before she was able to collect herself. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel a great burden has been lifted. Though I can only imagine what you must think of me now.”
    Was the unburdening of her secret worth his disdain? He’d thought she was a lady— everyone did. In truth, she was nothing more than a bastard parading as a gentleman’s daughter. And if society ever discovered the truth, she would be a pariah.
    “You do me a discredit. How could I think less of you for something that is so far beyond your control? You cannot be