Free Forged by Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 4 by Lynne Connolly

the truth, at the very least, except when she’d told him, his dark gaze had hardened.
    “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said.
    Harry shook his head. “I’d like to know more.”
    “You deserve to. You may do whatever you wish with this.” She glanced away and caught sight of her tea. It would be nearly cold by now, but she lifted the dish and sipped the liquid, just for something to do. She replaced it in its saucer rapidly. The small distraction had served its purpose. She had the story in her mind and she could relate it without too much faltering. She had her pride left. Just about all she had.
    “Thirty years ago my mother was staying in the house of the Duke of Boscobel. She was already expecting a child, and when the duke saw this, he was keen to recruit her. On the night of the explosion, she gave birth and the child became imbued with the spirit and essence of Venus. The duke wanted to take her away, to foster the baby, but she escaped. The duke continued to search for her, so she went into hiding. Unable to contact any of her kind, anyone she could trust, she changed her name and her station. She became a housekeeper, a domestic servant.”
    She had no shame saying the words. She never would again. “I was reared in the kitchens of the gentry. She worked for the people a level below the aristocracy. Most of the Titans had taken titles and property, and they would be less likely to discover her. It was for me, she said.” She smiled. “I believe her. She worked hard for me. She put me in the way of the old Duke of Clermont-Ferand when he visited England. Then she refused to let me go for anything short of marriage. He married me, so I wasn’t an outcast then. Nobody in France knew and she wouldn’t come with me. She could have.”
    Virginie had rarely met anyone who listened as well as this man. He remained perfectly still, his gaze trained on her. It was almost like talking to herself. But not quite. “My husband lied and lied, but France’s obsession with rank is even worse than it is here. He was not welcome at court, and that made him unhappy. So I worked to become the perfect duchesse.”
    Spreading her hands, she motioned gently, indicating her appearance, then returned her hands to her lap. She showed nothing of the horror that had been her marriage bed. Suppressing her shudder, she vowed yet again never to think of it. Her husband was kind to her in every other way.
    But Harry had seen. This perceptive man had seen something in her nobody else had detected. “The marriage was distasteful to you.”
    “No more than a woman of twenty marrying a man of seventy. The French don’t think as much of that age difference as the British, but even there they gossiped. Everyone gossips. It means nothing.”
    “It can mean a great deal. If you leave now it might mean everything.”
    “Not everything. I’m still rich, still titled.” If she told him of her plans he might deter her.
    “Do you always run away?”
    She glared at him, really saw him. He had uncrossed his legs and was leaning forward, his elbows resting on them. “What are you saying?”
    “That you are running from your problem. You are giving the gossips grounds for more malicious stories. You’ll make them worse.”
    “Them?”
    “The people gossiping. They will move to the next topic. They always do. But your case will give them confidence. Who knows who will suffer next?”
    “Obviously I must break with Marcus. Considering my attributes, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
    He grimaced. “You did not cast the spell. You merely perpetrated it. It’s like an oyster trying to get rid of the piece of grit that just grows and grows.”
    “That piece of grit becomes a pearl.” She wasn’t wearing her pearls today. She wasn’t wearing any jewellery, not having the heart to do so. Today saw her in the bare minimum she considered necessary to show her face outside her bedroom door. Weariness had swept over her when she