Free War Chest: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 5 by Lynne Connolly Page B

didn’t. Her teeth closed over her fork, jarring her.
    “Ruth?”
    Even his use of her name kept her on edge. Forcing a tight smile, she glanced at him, and then away. “Sir?”
    “Please don’t do this.”
    “What?” She was doing her best to behave properly.
    “Don’t hold back.”
    Shock rippled through her. He could not mean…? Why not, since he’d seduced her sister? Only the fact that he had taken the children in reconciled her to his treatment of her. She had begun to believe he was misunderstood, but he had kissed her, and had he wanted more?
    With sparks of anger rippling along her veins, she put her knife and fork on her plate, ignoring the clatter. “Sir, I think you assume more than I ever meant. Perhaps I am better remaining in the nursery wing. Or leaving this house.”
    The thought of quitting this early sent her into despair, but she ignored it and allowed the anger to ride her. “I am a respectable woman.” She pressed her hands on the table, preparing to rise and leave with as much dignity as she could.
    He prevented her by putting his much larger hand over hers. “You misunderstand me,” he said quietly. “If I offended you, then I apologise for it. I meant no disrespect.”
    When she stiffened, he should have removed his hand, but he did not. She contented herself with glaring.
    “What I need is a friend. I have none here, nobody I can talk to. I’m riven by—something. I can’t sleep, I have no respite except when you are here. Why that should be I don’t know, except you are the only person who speaks to me.”
    “Everyone speaks to you.”
    His eyes flashed. “Do not wilfully misunderstand me. You respond, you give me an opinion, even if it differs from my own.”
    “You could find many such in London.”
    He swallowed. “I don’t want to return there for a while. Matters are not good. If you will agree to be my friend, then I will promise to treat you with respect. I swear it. Let us be relatives in kind, if not in truth.” He gazed at her so earnestly she could barely think.
    Had he said that to poor Rhea? Ruth was so confused she didn’t know who to believe. She knew the question she needed to ask. “Then why take the babies if they are not yours?”
    His eyes widened. “Where did that come from?”
    Surmising she had nothing to lose, she dared to ask. If she was leaving, which seemed likely, then she would satisfy her curiosity. She was happy the babies were cared for, so she could leave them to his care. Or so she told herself. Her parents would not have done as much.
    “I wondered,” she said lamely.
    With his hand still over hers, he gazed at her, narrowing his eyes. “Did you know Rhea Simpson?”
    Such perspicacity deserved some kind of answer. “Once,” she said, not precisely a lie, but not the whole truth. She did not feel guilty. Not at all, not one bit.
    “I see. So you are concerned for her?”
    “Yes.” At least she didn’t need to lie about that.
    “I told you the truth. I promised to tell you the truth, did I not?” When she nodded, he continued, “The children are not mine, that much is true. Society assumes they are. I contacted her parents, but they did not respond. I confess I didn’t expect them to. Rhea was in disgrace, for which I’m very sorry, but it was not my doing. Since society assumes they are my bastards, I might as well treat them properly. Can you imagine the opprobrium I would receive?” He snorted with derision. “I possess the means. They scarcely make a dent. I will not treat them as my sons, though, because they are not.”
    “Was that today’s question?” Only when she’d said it did she realise she had somehow accepted she was staying. His explanation rang with truth. Either the children weren’t his, or he truly did not believe they were. In which case he’d done the right thing. “Do you care so much what society thinks of you?”
    “No, that is not today’s question, and no, I do not care what society