Halting in front of him, she looked so beautiful it momentarily pierced his anger.
‘I know how hard this must be for you, but please try to understand I was terrified.’
For an instant he believed her, but then he recalled her profession, her ability to play to the camera, and he swatted down the foolish fledgling impulse to show sympathy and emitted a snort of disbelief.
‘Terrified of what? What did I ever do to make you fear me?’
The idea was abhorrent—he’d witnessed his father in action, his delight in the exertion of power, and he’d vowed never to engage in a similar manner. Thus he’d embarked on a life of pleasure instead.
‘It wasn’t that straightforward. When we split obviously I had no idea I was pregnant. I found out a few weeks later and I was in shock. I did intend to tell you, but I decided to wait until I got to twelve weeks. And then your brother died. I couldn’t tell you then, so I decided to wait some more.’
Now her expression held no apology, and her eyes met his full-on.
‘And?’
‘And obviously there was a lot of press at the time about Lycander. I did some research, and it’s all there—your father fought custody battles over every one of his children except Axel, and that was only because Axel’s mother died before he could do so. Your mother never saw you again, his third wife fought for years before she won the right even to see her son, and wife number four lost her case because he managed to make out she was unfit and she had to publicly humiliate herself in order to be granted minimal visiting rights.’
‘That was my father—not me.’
‘Yes, but you had become the Lycander heir. Are you saying your father wouldn’t have fought for custody of his grandson? Even if you’d wanted to, how could you have stopped him? More to the point, would you have cared enough to try?’
The words hit him like bullets. She hadn’t believed he would fight for the well-being of their child. She’d thought he would stand back and watch Alphonse wrest his son away.
He shook his head. Do you blame her? asked a small voice. He’d been the Playboy Prince—he’d worked hard, played harder, and made it clear he had no wish for any emotional responsibilities.
‘I would ne
ver have let my father take our child from you.’ He knew first-hand what it felt like to grow up without a mother. All the Lycander children did.
‘I couldn’t take that risk. Plus, you didn’t want to be a father—you’d made it more than clear that you had no wish for a relationship or a child.’
‘Neither did you.’
His voice was even, non-accusatory, but she bristled anyway, tawny eyes flashing lasers.
‘I changed.’
‘But you didn’t give me the chance to. Not at any point in the past two years. Even if you could justify your deceit to yourself when my father was alive, you could have told me after his death.’
His father’s death had unleashed a fresh tumult of emotion to close down. He’d had to accept that he would now never forge a relationship with the man who had constantly put him down—the man who had never forgiven him for his mother’s actions. And on a practical level it had pitchforked him into the nightmare scenario of ascension to the throne.
But none of that explained her continued deceit.
‘I read the papers, Frederick. You have had enough to contend with in the past year to keep your throne—the revelation of a love-child with me would have finished you off. You were practically engaged to Lady Kaitlin.’
‘So you want my gratitude for keeping my child a secret? You’ve persuaded yourself that you did it for me? Is that how you sleep at night?’
‘I sleep fine at night. I did what I thought was right. I didn’t want Amil to grow up knowing that he had been the reason his father lost his throne, or lost the woman he loved. That is too big a burden for any child.’
The words were rounded with utter certainty.
‘That was not your decision to make. At any point. Regardless of the circumstances, you should have come to me as soon as you knew you were pregnant. Nothing should have stopped you. Not Axel, not my father, not Kaitlin—nothing. You have deprived him of his father.’
‘I chose depriving him of his father over depriving him of his mother.’ Her arms dropped to her sides and a sudden weariness slumped her shoulders. ‘We can argue about this for ever—I did what I thought was best. For Amil.’
‘And you.’
‘If you like. But in this case the two were synonymous. He needs me.’