Once Upon A Wedding Night by Sophie Jordan Read Free Book Online

lonely man. I'm sure he regretted—"
    "No," Nick interrupted harshly, slicing a hand through the air. "That bastard doesn't deserve your pity, and you'll rouse none from me. If you must pity, pity my mother who had to whore herself just to put food in our mouths and died coughing her guts up in a rat-infested hellhole."
    Her face blanched. Now he had shocked her. And it felt good. Rage—that old familiar friend that got him through the hardest of times—resurfaced. It felt gratifying to lash out at someone. Everyone else he could blame was dead. She was the closest substitute. The chit had married Edmund, after all, sharing her bed and life with the very brother who had stood silent as he was banished. Edmund had been fifteen, old enough to possess a voice, to have at least spoken out on their behalf. The woman before him had married that gutless man, even mourned him. He would feel no softness for her. No matter how sweetly she listened as he bared his soul.
    She dropped her gaze to the carpet, reminding him of a mouse trying to go unseen in the face of its predator. "My apologies. I spoke unthinkingly."
    "Now you know."
    "I'm sorry for all you suffered. I only wish others had known, so they could have helped you."
    Nick felt a flash of irritation. Did she honestly think no one knew? Just because no one had stepped forward to tell her his family's sordid history did not mean no one knew.
    "People knew, don't doubt it. If the same thing were to happen today, Good Society would not deign to lift a finger."
    "I think you will find a good many people in Attingham that would not stand idle for such an injustice today."
    Her total naivete maddened him. "If your child is female and I decided to cast you to the wolves, the good Christians of Attingham would look the other way, of that you may be certain."
    She shook her head slowly, murmuring in a voice that lacked conviction, "No."
    He studied her closely, hypnotized by the way the candlelight brought out the red highlights in her auburn hair. "What an innocent you are. I can say with absolute faith that my former neighbors did not grow a conscience in the last twenty years. But have no fear, I'll keep my word. You'll not have to test the extent of their charity."
    "I can only say that the good Christians I sit beside in church—"
    His scornful laugh cut short her stalwart defense.
    "What is so amusing, my lord?" Disapproval rang high in her voice.
    Nick sobered and answered mildly, "I'm not much for church or God." God had been his mother's crutch. Not his.
    Her sharp intake of breath indicated he had either offended or surprised her. That stubborn little chin of hers went up, and he knew she was not going to let his declaration slide past unrefuted. "I don't believe that."
    "What exactly don't you believe?"
    "That you are faithless. I don't believe it."
    He could tell her any number of stories to prove just how blackhearted he was. He could regale her with how he grew into a predator on the streets of London: stealing, assaulting, and even killing a man at the tender age of thirteen when the man insisted on becoming his
special
friend. How scandalized would she be to learn that he had broken into the mansions of Mayfair's most eminent? Perhaps then she would believe him.
    "You don't believe it because you don't wish to.
    It's more comfortable for you to believe that everyone is like you." He waved his hand at her. "That I am like you."
    "But you must believe in God." The quaver of hesitation in her voice made him smile. She feared for his soul. Charming. She probably feared he was going to be swallowed in flames right in front of her.
    Nick answered with a vague, "I believe God exists." For her sake, because she was so obviously perturbed, he would leave it at that and refrain from telling her of the years he had prayed for his mother's precious God to intervene as he endured the beatings and deprivations of the streets. The boy that had whispered desperate prayers over his