Page 88 of Courting Claudia

“You said that day by the pond that your marriage to her was a story for another day. Will you tell me now?”

He shrugged. “There’s not much to tell, really. I met her shortly after I returned to London after going to the university and doing some traveling. She enchanted me, and I fell in love with her immediately.”

Claudia tried not to wince. She’d known he’d loved his first wife, but she hadn’t been prepared to hear him say it.

He idly rubbed her back while he spoke. “It was a boy’s love, though, childish and fanciful. We married a few short weeks after we met, and a year later she was gone.”

“What happened?” she ventured.

“She got pregnant.” He took a deep breath.

“If this is too painful, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s not painful. Julia had an affair, her lover got her pregnant. Julia wanted to run off with him. She made certain that everyone knew the truth, that everyone knew who the father of her child was.”

“Wasn’t that a little risky with her reputation and yours?”

“Yes, but she didn’t care. She’d always been reckless, it was one of the things that attracted me to her. I wouldn’t let her leave though. I was selfish, I didn’t want to let her go.” He released a deep breath. “She died having that bastard’s child and he didn’t even come to her funeral.”

“And the child?”

“She lived all of three days, then she too died. She’s buried at my estate.”

“You gave her your name?” Claudia asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. She deserved to die with some degree of dignity, even if her parents had none.”

“You are a good man, Derrick.”

He shrugged. “It is all in the past. I was a boy, it was a long time ago, and it’s forgotten. Whatever your worries are about Julia, dismiss them. She does not affect our marriage.”

She smiled. “Very well.”

“I do have something I’ve been wanting to tell you, though,” he said. “I guess it’s a day for confessions.” He gave her a weak smile. “There are things about my past that you should know. Twelve years ago, I worked for my father’s newspaper, the Challenger. I was a journalist. His paper printed mostly political news. The latest of Parliament, scandals, debates, anything regarding politics went into that paper. And it was popular. The sales were great.” He was silent for a moment before he continued.

“Then I got the story of a lifetime. A scandal to beat all scandals. My source was reliable, or so I thought, and when I questioned the gentleman, he had no arguments against my facts. So I printed the story. And it ruined him. He was terminated from his position with the patents office and charged with treason. Two days after the paper was printed, he shot himself. His wife and daughter found him.”

His voice was lined with pain and obvious guilt. She tried to think of something to say, but found no words.

“I swore I’d never write again. And I haven’t. Eventually the paper was ruined. People didn’t take too kindly to us ruining that family—we were blamed for his suicide, me especially.”

“But it wasn’t your fault. Surely you know that.”

“It wasn’t completely my fault. But I am partially to blame. As it turns out, the story wasn’t completely true.”

“But the man. You asked him to comment, and he didn’t challenge your facts.”

“No, he didn’t. I’ve always wondered why. At the time, I thought he was being a stubborn, righteous old man. But now I know that he was protecting someone.”

“Who?”

“He was being blackmailed to embezzle the money. Of the funds he skimmed, he never spent one cent. It all went to someone else. He should have gone to the crown and reported the blackmailer. But I suppose he didn’t see any way to do that. To him, the secret he hid was more important than crimes against the crown.”

“Do you know who it was? The person behind the blackmail?” she asked.

“I have my suspicions.”

“But you won’t tell me?”