She let go of her last secret. “I told you that I lost our baby five years ago.” She looked up into his eyes. “What I did not tell you, Rowarth, was that Dr. Culpepper explained that I would never bear more children.” She took a deep, painful breath. “I had not even known I wanted a child but then to be told I could never again bear one…it almost destroyed me.” She covered her face briefly then let her hands fall. She needed to end this. When he had gone she could break down. “But the point is that we cannot wed, Rowarth. We could not then and we cannot now, for I would never be able to give you an heir. That was why I ran away.”
There, it was out. The painful truth that she had nursed to herself all these years was finally exposed in the light. She had never talked of it with anyone. It was too difficult. The wound had never healed, for the hurt had run too deep. It had scarred over, her defenses imperfect, aching when something reminded her, or when, like now, the barrenness of her future was spread before her in all its sterile detail.
Rowarth’s expression had changed. She had known it would. She could not hit him with such a shocking truth and expect everything to be the same. He would withdraw from her now, free himself and beat a hasty retreat. He would do it charmingly, of course, with expressions of deep regret and commiseration even as he headed for the door, but he would leave her nevertheless.
“Eve, I am so very sorry.”
He sounded sincere. Eve was sure he was. She stifled a strong desire to throw herself into his arms and beg him to make everything right, because of course he could not. No one could. She drew herself up.
“Thank you.” Inexplicably he was still holding her hands and she realized that he had made no move to go. He was watching her, the deepest compassion in his face. She swallowed the enormous lump in her throat.
Why did he not go? She did not want his sympathy. It would be unendurable.
“Thank you,” she said again, very quickly. “But you must see…” She wished she did not have to spell it out. “It would be quite impossible for us—for you. You need an heir for Welburn. I know you love the place very deeply and would want to pass it on to your son. So…”
So why do you not simply go, put an end to this, walk away?
He dropped her hands at last and straightened up. Her body sagged with relief as well as misery.
“I am afraid that I do not.” He sounded terribly polite. Eve felt confused.
“Do not what?”
Unbelievably, there was still a spark of humor in his eyes. Her battered heart lifted to see it before plunging back down again. How could she feel even remotely happy when she was banishing forever the love of her life?
“I am afraid that I do not see why this makes it impossible for us to be together.”
She stared at him, utterly unable to comprehend what she was hearing.
“But, Rowarth—”
“My darling Eve.” Now, his arms went about her. Now the comfort and the peace she craved was so close but she did not quite dare to reach out to grasp it. He pressed his lips to her hair and spoke softly. “I am sorry for all you have suffered, Eve. I am even more sorry that I was not beside you when you needed me. I cannot imagine what you have been through or what it feels like for you, though I would do anything in my power to take away those memories. Alas, I cannot. But I can promise to devote myself to your future and your happiness always, if only you will let me.”
“But, Rowarth—” Her throat was clogged with tears. She never normally cried and now she was turning into a watering pot. It was infuriating. “The dukedom! Pray, do not be so foolish—”
“My darling Eve,” he said again, his lips moving to brush her ear, making her shiver, “my current heir is my nephew, and he loves Welburn almost as much as I did at his age. I am sure he has been secretly praying that I will never wed so that he can inherit. And I should be glad if he did.”
“Oh!” Eve felt taken aback, almost shocked. “But surely a man wants a son?”
Rowarth was strong enough not to deny it.
“It would have been very special,” he acknowledged, “to have had a son—or a daughter—with you.” For a moment they stood locked together in contemplation of a different future, one that could not be. Then Rowarth’s arms tightened about her.
“But I want you, Eve, more than anything else in the entire world. You are the one who completes me. You are all I need.”
Eve felt his compassion and his tenderness and his love touch her soul, taking away the darkness, and she turned her face up to his.
“I have never loved anyone but you,” she whispered. “I cannot believe this is true. It makes me feel quite giddy.”
She saw a smile curve his sensuous mouth. “My sweet, I have always said that you are a very inexperienced courtesan. To love only one man in your entire life…”
She touched his cheek lightly, lovingly. “And you love me, too.”
“So much that it consumes me,” Rowarth said. “I love you even more than I did five years ago. I had no idea it could be like this.”
“So we may learn about love together.” Her heart unfurled, light banishing the darkness, healing her. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and Rowarth caught it with one finger and traced the line of her cheek.
“You have worked very hard for all that you have achieved here,” he said, as the cuckoo clock chimed loudly from the desk.