Tomorrow's Dreams (33 page)

If Seth hadn't been so tense, he probably would have smiled at her naïveté. For all her education and recent experience, Penelope was still an innocent in many ways. Measuring his words carefully, he replied, “I was found abandoned in the foyer of St. John's Chapel when I was just a few days old. I was wrapped in an old blanket with a handkerchief tied around a gash on my arm. I have a scar on the underside of my right arm from that wound.”

“How awful!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and full of sympathy. “Why didn't you ever tell me this before?”

“Because I was ashamed. You already knew that I was little better than white trash, what with my crude speech and manners when your brother first started inviting me to your house. I thought that stigma damning enough without adding that I was abandoned at birth and most probably a bastard.”

“None of that would of have mattered to me,” she protested. “By the time we were engaged, I loved you so much that you could have told me you were the man in the moon, and I still would have said ‘I do.' You should have had enough faith in my love to trust me to understand about your past.”

Seth shifted his gaze from her face to stare down at their clasped hands, aching at the hurt in her eyes. “I know that now, but I was a cowardly fool. I felt unworthy of you and was afraid you might judge me unsuitable to be your husband if you learned the truth. I didn't want to risk losing you.”

There was a brief silence, as if she were considering his words. Finally she replied, “I know you asked my brother's blessing before you proposed. Did he know of your past?”

“Everything,” Seth conceded.

“And yet he was thrilled at the prospect of our coming marriage. In fact, he wrote to me telling me that he was glad I'd finally come to my senses and was marrying the only man he considered worthy of me. If he thought you were good enough, what in the world made you assume that I'd think any differently?”

“I didn't think, which his one of the more troublesome aspects of being a fool,” he admitted, his self-abhorrence clearly echoed in his voice. “At any rate, it was my feelings of inadequacy that led me to contact the Pinkerton Agency. I hoped that they might turn up something to redeem me in my own eyes.”

“But they only confirmed your fears, didn't they?” There was a rising note of anger in her voice. When Seth looked up, startled at her sudden change in tone, he found her staring at him with a soul-scalding mixture of scorn and pain.

“Well? Am I right?” she demanded.

“Yes. But what you have to understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she spat, jerking her hand from his. “You couldn't deal with your feelings of inferiority from learning that you're a bastard, so you used my friendship with Julian to trump up false charges of infidelity to break our engagement. You put me through two and a half years of hell because of you weren't man enough to face your feelings and tell me the truth. You really are a bastard, and I don't mean the kind born out of wedlock.” With that stinging but well-earned set-down, she stood up. “Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Tyler—”

“No!” Seth jumped up and grabbed her arms to prevent her from moving away.

“Damn it! Let me go,” she snarled, trying to pull away.

He tightened his hold, easily immobilizing her. He knew he deserved her contempt, and if she chose never to speak to him again after he'd said his piece, then he'd honor her wishes by staying out of her life, no matter how much it tore him up inside. But he intended to make her hear the whole truth first.

“Just listen to me for a few minutes,” he begged. “Let me finish explaining.”

She stabbed him with her infuriated glare. “Why? So you can tell me more lies to justify your vile behavior?”

“No. So I can tell you the truth.” His gaze locked into hers, mutely pleading. “Just give me five minutes to explain. Then I'll do anything you ask. Anything.”

Penelope froze in his arms as if mulling over his proposal, then nodded stiffly. Looking pointedly at the clock beside the bed, she snapped, “Five minutes.”

Seth exhaled with relief. “Thank you.” Relaxing his grip, he nodded at the chair. “Would you mind if we sat? You still haven't heard the worst part of my story.”

“It gets worse?” She drew back, eyeing him uncertainly. “I'm not so sure I want to hear the rest.”

He gave her a brittle smile. “Worse for me, not you. What I have to say might even make you feel better.”

She emitted a snort that clearly expressed her skepticism, but sat down nonetheless. He returned to his perch on the edge of the ottoman. Staring down at his clenched fists lying on his knees, he began without preamble, “You were correct when you accused me of using your friendship with Julian to break our engagement, but you were wrong about the reason.”

He glanced up briefly to nod. “Oh, you were right about the part of me being a bastard, both kinds, but that wasn't the reason I did what I did. I'd already decided on the way to my meeting with the agent that if I learned I was indeed the bastard of a scrubwoman or prostitute, that I'd tell you the truth and let you decide for yourself if you still wanted to marry me. But what I learned”—he broke off, shaking his head hopelessly.

“Was what, Seth?” The question was asked quietly, without a trace of impatience or enmity.

Not daring to look up for fear of seeing a hostility that belied the gentleness of her tone, he thrust the words past his pain-constricted throat. “I learned that my birth was the result of an incestuous rape. My father was a maniac who raped his own sister in a fit of madness.”

“Dear God, no! Are you certain? Couldn't the agency have made some sort of mistake?”

“There was no mistake. The proof is irrefutable.” He drew in a shuddering breath and forced himself to look at her face. It was as pale as ashes, with shock tainting every elegant line. Staring into her wide eyes, he added softly, “Don't you see? I couldn't marry you or anyone else, knowing of my birth. Between the taint of incest and my father's madness, it's possible that I'll end up in an asylum for the insane someday.”

“You poor man!” she expelled, laying both her hands over his clenched ones. “You must have felt like your world was ending!”

His fists slowly relaxed beneath her touch. “It had. It came to an end the moment I lost you.”

“I wish you had come to me. Perhaps I could have eased your pain some.”

“There was nothing I wanted more than to lie in your embrace and tell you everything,” he admitted, lacing his fingers through hers and clutching her hands as if they possessed miraculous healing powers. But I couldn't. I was … afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?” she asked, visibly taken aback. “Surely you didn't think that I'd become repulsed and order you from my sight over something that clearly wasn't your fault?”

“At first, yes,” he confessed shamefacedly. “But then I starting thinking about how strong, stubborn, and loyal you are, and I was worried that you might insist on marrying me despite the overwhelming odds against our future happiness.”

“You were right. I still would've wanted to marry you. I'd have begged you to take me to the altar, where I'd have promised to love, cherish, and keep the madness from you.”

Seth smiled gently and lifted her left hand to his lips to kiss her ring finger. “And I wouldn't have had the strength to say no. I could never deny you anything, which is why I didn't dare tell you the truth.”

“But would it really have been so terrible for us to have married? There is always a chance that you won't go insane.”

“And an even bigger one that I will.”

She shook her head. “Even so, we could have had years of happiness together. That would have been enough for me. All I ever wanted was the chance to love you.”

“And all I ever wanted was to love you in return. But I couldn't bear the thought of you watching me go insane or the possibility that I might somehow injure you while in the throes of my madness. Most of all, I hated the idea of you wasting your life being tied to a lunatic. You're so wonderful, you deserve a man who can promise you forever. One who can give you a stable home and a brood of children as special as you are.”

“But we could have had all that,” she declared, her eyes aglow with a strange light. “The home … the children.”

Seth stared at her, appalled. “Do you know what you're saying?” he demanded. “Have you stopped to consider what sort of children I might father? God only knows the hideous ways my cursed blood might mark them.”

Her face blanched as white as if every drop of blood had been drained away. “Marked? Dear God,” she whispered.

“Yes, marked,” he echoed, relieved that she was finally beginning to understand the dangers of his curse. “I saw a doctor right after I spoke with the agent, one who specializes in disorders of the mind. Though he couldn't offer me any help, he did advise me of the threat to my offspring.”

Penelope opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. After a moment she licked her lips and murmured, “What would you have done if I'd conceived? I mean, we did make love.”

Seth exhaled as sharply as if the air had been slugged from him. “Well, let's just give thanks that you didn't.”

“But if I had?” she persisted.

“Then, I would have married you, despite the dangers, and prayed that our child would be spared the curse of my blood.”

Her slender fingers tightened suddenly to clench his with a strength he found surprising. “And if he or she were born marked, like that doctor predicted, would you have still loved him?”

Seth stared at Penelope's grave face, shocked that she found it necessary to ask such a question. “Of course I would. I'd have adored our baby every bit as much as I would if it were perfect.”

Something about her answering smile sent a trickle of uneasiness down his spine. Strange, but she looked relieved, almost as if she'd just received a favorable response to an urgently important question. The only conceivable reason for her expression shook him to the very core of his being.

Riveting her with a probing stare, he demanded, “What makes you ask such a question?”

She shrugged in an offhanded manner. “Just curious. As you might have noticed, I've become inquisitive in my old age.” The breezy nonchalance of both her reply and demeanor did much to put his wariness to rest. With a smile that charmed him right out of his remaining misgivings, she nodded toward the clock, adding, “In case you're curious as well and are wondering about the time, it's nine-twelve. Your five minutes are up.”

Seth glanced at the timepiece. “If I'm not mistaken, my time was up three minutes ago.” He gave her hands a warm squeeze, then released them. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“I'm glad I did.” She rose, tightening the dressing-gown sash as she straightened up. “Although I still think you were a bastard to behave as you did in New York, I understand that you thought you were doing it for my own good. I can't hate you for trying to protect me, no matter how misguided your methods.”

“Does that mean we can still be friends?”

Her gaze still on the sash, she replied, “Of course. And if you still want to try for my bonnet at the race, I'd be pleased to accompany you to the dance tonight.”

“How could I not want to go with the cleanest girl in town?” he teased, more relieved by her reply than words could express.

She flushed a pretty shade of geranium pink at his good-natured reference to her clandestine bath. “I'm sorry. I hope you're not upset with me. I have to haul and heat my own bathwater at the boardinghouse. It's such hard work that I couldn't resist taking a soak in your already filled tub.”

“I'm only upset that you didn't tell me, so I could order an extra bucket of hot water for you.” Standing up, he added, “I want you to promise to let me know if there's anything you ever need in the future. Friends look after each other, you know.”

She gave the robe tie a tug that looked suspiciously like a fidget. “Actually … uh … there is something I do need.”

“Ask away,” he directed. When she hesitated, he reminded her, “I promised to do anything you asked if you listened to me for five minutes. You upheld your end of the bargain, and I'm perfectly willing to uphold mine.”

“I'll ask only if you promise not to question my request.”

Mystified, Seth agreed. “All right, then. No questions.”

Twisting the sash into a fat, velvet ringlet, she murmured, “I need to borrow $385. It's just a loan. I'll pay you back when I get to San Francisco.”

A request for money was the last thing Seth had expected. So taken aback was he, that he almost slipped and asked her why she needed it. Fortunately he came to his senses in time to stop himself. Giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, he said, “It's yours. Come to my office tomorrow after rehearsal.”

“Thank you, Seth.” Dropping the coiled sash, Penelope stood on her tiptoes and planted a firm but brief kiss on his lips.

Resisting his fierce urge to clamp her into his embrace and steal a real kiss, Seth stepped back, almost tumbling over the ottoman in the process. Flustered as much from Penelope's casual kiss as from his near fall, he muttered, “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business I need to attend to before the race.”

As he moved toward the desk to retrieve the ledgers, he was stopped by Penelope's soft voice. “Seth?”

He glanced back over his shoulder to where she still stood by the chair. She was smiling in a way that displayed her dimples to their most irresistible advantage. “I'll keep my fingers crossed that you win my bonnet this afternoon.”

Slowly and deliberately he let his gaze work its way from her bare toes to her prettily flushed face, taking in every delectable detail in between. “Never fear, Princess,” he purred. “I won't lose when the prize is so worth winning.”