His Lady Mistress

252 His Lady Mistressnightmares got to him too. He used to write them down. Allsnakes and cavernous ruins.Pain splintered inside him as he understood what Verityhad been through. No. He couldn’t understand. No one could,who hadn’t lived through something like this. But at least heknew now what had happened. After this, her father’s suicidemust have been the final catastrophe.Only to be followed by the Faringdons. Who stole hername and her inheritance. Who had driven her to the pointof becoming his mistress just to escape...or was that it? I’dlike...to belong. To be part of people’s lives.The memory of her innocent wish raked him. She hadwanted to belong. Everyone had refused her that, even herown father in his inexorable slide to self-destruction. Yet shehad still loved him. She had still gone out to try and give hisburial some honour.Without disturbing the sleeping woman in his arms, hereplaced the journal. It was still a very private journal. Perhapshe should not have read it, but he couldn’t regret it. Hehad needed to know what was in it. But that didn’t meanVerity need know he had read it. She had not chosen to shareit with him. At least he could respect her desire for privacy.Very gently he lay her down on the bed and eased awayfrom her. She had expressed another desire this evening—namely not to share his bed again. Grimly he faced what hehad done to her. He had taken her and promised protection,demanding her trust. She had given it. Completely. Then hehad pushed her away. He had called her back. She had come.Hesitantly, but she had come and given her trust again. Andhe had broken faith again, shattering what he had been givenso freely.Tonight something had changed. She had begun to trustagain. Perhaps there was hope after all. If he was careful notto ask too much, too soon.Over the next week Verity found Max constantly at herside. He attended her to balls, routs, dinners and the theatre.