"As what?"
He arched a brow. "Well, that wasn't clear at first. I mean, there wasn't any work he had me do, really. He made me go to lessons and cleaned me up. It took over a year before he told me what I'd be doing for him."
"And that was?"
"The man was the Earl of Stalwood," Clairemont finished with a slight smile for Celia. "And he asked me if I'd like to be a spy."
She drew back, he mouth open in shock. "Stalwood took you in?"
He nodded. "Once I stopped fighting him, I became his ward. He taught me how to be a spy, but also how to be a man. A person. I learned to read, to write. At first I hated it, but ultimately I soaked it in. I loved it, and I loved the rest, too. And Stalwood was … " He trailed off and his voice caught. "He was the first flicker of kindness in a dark world full of hate and pain. I owe him my life, you see. Both the part of it that meant I didn't die and the part of it where I truly began to live. To see myself as worthy. So that is how I became a spy. A long answer to a question you may be sorry you asked now."
"Not at all," she said. "You told me more than I ever would have expected. And I understand so much more now about who you are. I suppose I hate Stalwood less, too."
He frowned. Of course she would despise his mentor. Stalwood had taken responsibility for using her in their plan. For manipulating her. He had a feeling the earl had done it for him. Yet another thing he'd never be able to repay.
"You shouldn't hate him at all," he said softly. "Whatever happened, my actions have been my own. If you hate anyone, hate me."
Her face fell slightly and she reached for him. She cupped his cheek. "I could not hate you. I might have wanted to when the truth came out, but it was never possible. And now that I've heard it all, I even understand it. As for Stalwood, he saved you."
"Yes, he did."
"And brought you to me. That trumps almost everything else." She laughed. "Not that he cares about my judgment of him."
"You would be surprised," Clairemont said. "He may seem stern and unfeeling, but there is a great deal more to him than that."
"I will take your word on it, as you know him best," she said. "I want to say something to you."
He nodded, bracing himself for the worst. Readying for when she would pull away from the damage he had just revealed to her.
"I'm so sorry for the pain you have endured," she said. "I ache for the child you once were, alone and afraid. I wish nothing more than to be able to comfort him, protect him."
"Of course you do," he said, picturing for a brief, wild moment, just that. Except the child he imagined her picking up to comfort wasn't him, but his son. Their son. He pushed the image away.
"But more than that, I am infinitely impressed by the man you've become, Aiden."
He flinched as she used that name that wasn't him again. It drove home the fine blade that he was nothing, still nothing, he'd never be anything more than nothing. That he was an illusion, not a man.
"The man who lies for a living," he said, getting up and walking away. He grabbed for his trousers and pulled them back on, keeping his back to her. "The one who just took your virginity."
"Freely given," she said, her voice soft in the quiet room.
"It doesn't matter," he snapped, facing her. It was impossible to look at her. She was so beautiful, gathered up in his bed, his sheets.
No, not his bed. Not his sheets. Not his woman.
"I have destroyed your future, Celia," he said.
Her eyes went wide. "Aiden, please! There could still be a future."
"What, for us?" he asked, laughing though there was no humor or goodness in what he felt. "Don't you understand? There is no Aiden. There is no us. There is no future. This night was stolen, something that we shouldn't have done, no matter how pleasurable it was." With every word, her face crumpled further. "When I'm gone, the best thing you can do for yourself is to forget me."
She lifted her chin slightly, but her defiance couldn't mask her pain. Unlike him, she wasn't as practiced at the act. He saw it there, as clear on her face as the fact that she foolishly cared for him. Him, a ghost. A phantom. A lie.
"And what will you do when you're gone?" she asked.
"Forget you."
He said the words. He even said them with strength. But they were a lie, the deepest and darkest one he'd ever told. He would never forget her. Her smile, her laugh, her touch, her body, how he loved her … those things would be with him every moment of every day until he finally breathed his last.
But she didn't know that. He made her believe it by the way he said those words. By the expression he forced himself to take.
The color drained from her face. "I see." She lifted the sheets to cover herself, and in that moment, he knew he'd lost her completely. "Well, then it seems I have all I came from. If you'll excuse me while I dress, you can return me to Gray's house."
He nodded, for he knew what she requested was best for her. It was, after all, what he had created by rejecting her. But it had never hurt more to walk away from anything then it did when he turned on his heel and exited the chamber. He shut the door behind him and leaned his forehead on the barrier, clenching his fists to keep from bursting back inside.
To keep from shouting the words he now only mouthed:
I love you.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Celia sat on the settee in Gray's parlor. Rosalinde was beside her, sewing quietly. Celia was also supposed to be stitching, but her piece sat on her lap, abandoned long ago. Instead, she stared out the window, toward the rainy garden behind the house. But even that she didn't see.
No, all she could think about was Aiden. She had not seen him, nor heard from him, in two days. Not since he had dropped her back off at Gray's house with a mumbled apology and goodnight.
But she had been reliving that night ever since. From the passionate joining that had made her soul and body sing, to his ultimate rejection that had sent her crashing to the ground.
Did she understand why he pushed her away? Of course she did. Not only did she understand his past now, but she knew that he couldn't remain in the role of Clairemont. He would be gone when his case ended. In some way, she thought he was trying to deal the harshest blows now so it would hurt less later.
Knowing that didn't lessen the sting.
The door to the parlor opened and Gray entered. He had a pensive look on his handsome face and he moved directly to Rosalinde to press a kiss to her forehead. Once he had done so, his expression relaxed a fraction. Celia turned away from their show of affection. How much she wished she could offer Aiden that kind of support.
"What is it?" Rosalinde asked, taking his hand.
He smiled down at her. "Am I so easy to read?"
"Only to me," Rosalinde said softly before she repeated, "What is it?"
"I've received a message from Stalwood. He and Clairemont are on their way to talk to me about any evidence I may have uncovered. They will be here momentarily." He shot a glance toward Celia.
She hardly noticed him as she rose to her feet. Her heart was pounding at the thought of seeing Aiden again.
Rosalinde frowned. "Why don't we go out, Celia?" she suggested in a falsely bright tone. "I know Mr. Banks gets his new fabrics in today. We could find a pretty silk or-"
"No," Celia said, surprised her voice could sound so even and strong when she was all but vibrating inside. "It's fine. Perhaps I can help."
Rosalinde moved toward her and caught her hand. She whispered, "I'm worried about you. Despite everything that has happened, I know you care for this man."
Celia didn't bother to deny it. Her sister knew her too well not to see through that lie. Instead, she shrugged. "That is why I must help. If he's seen coming here, it should be believed that he'd here to court. I must be there for that lie to be told."
The sound of a knock on the front door drifted in from the parlor, and Celia froze as they heard Greene welcome their guests. Then he appeared in the doorway. "The Duke of Clairemont and the Earl of Stalwood have arrived."
"They are expected, Greene. Please, allow them in," Gray said.
The servant stepped aside and the men entered. Stalwood came in first, but as he stepped aside, Aiden stepped into view. Celia's breath caught, then vanished as he turned his cool and hard gaze on her. The moment he did, it softened a fraction. Then he frowned and turned away.
She flinched. He was lost to her now. Already he pulled back, and it broke her heart into a thousand fragments.
"Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Danford, Miss Fitzgilbert," Stalwood said, filling what was now an awkward silence. "Thank you again for having us in your home and for your continued assistance in this unpleasant matter."
Celia kept her gaze on the earl since Aiden's continued refusal to look at her stung so badly. "Lord Stalwood, is there anything I can do to help?"
"No!" It was Aiden who answered, his tone sharp and bordering on cruel. "No."
Celia narrowed her eyes at him, and he did the same in return. "Might I have a moment with Clairemont?" she said, making the words a question though it was meant as a statement. If anyone refused her, she was going to insist.