There was no greater betrayal than having your family, or those you thought were some approximation of one, treat you with utter cruelty. There was nothing he could do about her family—her mother was dead, and perhaps her father, too. Everyone but Sylvia and Eugenia had treated her shabbily.
He couldn’t help but notice Aurora had not said a single name to identify the farmer, or where she’d lived with him. He was furious about that. She ought to be angry, too; instead, she was protecting the devil who had taken her innocence so young.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Why should you say you are sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered. “I wasn’t wanted or loved enough by my mother because she made me a bastard when she annulled her first marriage. With the widow married, I had nothing to stay for. I stole money from him and left with just the clothes on my back while the married couple were celebrating. I doubt I was missed by anyone until well into the next day. I arrived at Sylvia’s door without any notice, bedraggled, and so frightened that she’d see my ruin in my eyes.”
He inched a little closer. “Does she know?”
“Yes. I told Sylvia everything, but only after I had my inheritance in my hands. Just in case she cast me out. I remember being surprised at how hard she cried when I told her my story. What happened to me after Mother abandoned me…it changed me. I have never been able to believe anyone could love me, especially men.
“Sylvia demanded the right to look after me. To live with her and with Eugenia when they moved to London. I’m not really a Hillcrest, you see. I’m not really anyone at all. Sometimes it’s as if it happened to someone else, but at other times, I cannot escape the shame and memories of what I willingly did with him.”
“It is not your shame to bear, and you are not alone. You never will be, if I have any say in it,” Drew promised, sliding the remaining distance so they touched from hip to shoulder. “I’m here.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he didn’t dare make the attempt yet. He knew better than to force his affection onto Aurora now. She would come to him when she was in need, when she couldn’t deny it existed.
“What was your father’s name?”
She shook her head. “I won’t say it. It hurts too much. I’ve lost everyone and everything I’ve ever loved. I swore I’d never let anyone get close to me again. Sylvia and Eugenia managed to worm their way into my heart. But they have never understood how much of an imposter I’ve always felt here, pretending to be a proper lady when I’m anything but.”
She sighed. “So, you see now why I could never agree to be your wife. I was ruined a long time ago, and I’m not even the product of a real marriage anymore. An earl with so grand a future as yours cannot marry a bastard daughter of a nobody.”
Drew shivered at the bleakness of her pronouncement. She had suffered loss after loss, but the worst was abandonment. She must have always expected him to be disgusted with her past. But he wasn’t. He was proud of her for making the best of her life. For leaving the farmer and daring to imagine a better future.
He was painfully aware that his next words were the most important of their entire relationship. He’d believed the Hillcrests had been a respectable country family, of which all the older members were dead. He’d not heard a word of Aurora’s mother having any marriage annulled. But he was sure it had been hushed up, even by Aurora’s own cousins—and for good reason, too. Aurora would have been looked down upon by society and would be shunned if word of this ever came to light.
He worked with great difficulty to cool his anger toward the people who’d used and discarded Aurora as if she were dirt under their feet. Everyone Aurora had counted on had abandoned her. Forgotten their duty was to protect her and love her.
Drew would not.
He turned his head and caught her eye. “If I had known all that had happened to you, it would have made more sense why you refused to accept my proposals. You don’t trust people will stay. You expect nothing, so you’re not disappointed. I understand why you couldn’t believe in my love after all you’ve suffered. But if I hadn’t given my word not to already, I would sink down on my knees right now to ask for your hand in marriage again.
“I love you, exactly as you are tonight, Aurora. I’m honored you would share with me something so personal and painful. All I want is to be your friend, your companion, and your lover. Someone I hope you might one day feel you can trust to build a brighter future with. You are so strong, and I’m in awe of your bravery in the face of such terrible treatment. Please don’t let the disappointments of your past shape your future, my love. Trust that I will always be here for you because I want to be. After what you told me, I don’t love you less…I love you more than ever.”
A shuddering breath left her lips, and she suddenly curled sideways, into his arms. She cried great gulping tears of pain and heartache that tore out his own heart.
Drew held her tight and cried along with her. It was impossible not to grieve for the happy childhood she should have had. For the pain she’d been hiding from him in fear that he’d turn her away.
Nothing that had happened to her changed a damn thing. Aurora was a good person despite it all. She’d refused him to protect him from the scandal her past might have caused. He wanted to nurture her tender heart until she forgot to fear what had come before they’d ever met. He vowed to hold onto her, reassure her, whenever her doubts clouded her vision of happiness.
He held her tight and let her weep until her emotions settled, then Drew picked her up, carried her up to the bedchamber they shared, and climbed into bed with her, boots and all. He held her in his arms until she finally slept and even beyond that moment until the sun rose.