A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2) (27 page)

“I’m like you,” he said softly, trying hard to find words he’d never sought before. “I never knew my parents. They died when I was not more than a baby. I had no other family and we lived far out in the country, where there was no orphanage, so the church took me.”

Her smile had faded as he began to speak, and now her lips parted. “Were they…
kind
to you?”

“Indifferent,” he said with a shrug. “As far as I recall. I was very young, you see. And I left their care when I was just four.”

“You were taken in?” she asked. “By a family?”

He swallowed hard as images of someone big and cruel filled his mind. “Not a family. I suppose that must have been what he told the vicar. Or perhaps he just bought me, I don’t know. But he was a traveling chimney sweep and he needed an apprentice.”

Her brow wrinkled. “At—at
four
?”

“That is the preferred starting age,” he said, his lips thinning at her innocence of his world. “The chimneys are narrow and a small child fits perfectly in them.”

“Aiden,” she whispered, saying the name of a man who had never done such dirty, horrible work. Yet he was happy she did—it kept him grounded here instead of lost in memories of the early time of his life. “Was he at least kind to you?”

“He was not.” Clairemont shut his eyes and could see him, Felix Freestone, rising up over him, a fist clenched, his eyes blurred with drink and rage. “He was cruel beyond measure.”

“What did he do?” she asked, her hand coming up to gently trace his jawline. “What did he do to you?”

“Wouldn’t you rather hear a lie?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “I could spin one for you that would make us both feel better.”

She tilted her head, and suddenly there was a world of understanding in her eyes. “Part of the attraction of being a spy was living a life you could create. A past you could pull from whole cloth so you would forget the truth.”

His nostrils flared at her observation. She was far too sharp and smart and wonderful for her own good. Certainly far too good for him. And yet she was here. And he loved her.

“Yes,” he admitted.

She sat up slowly and edged closer. Her mouth dropped gently and she brushed her lips to his. “I would rather know the truth. Ugly and cold and hard as it may be, it is
yours
. It means a great deal to me if you are willing or able to share it.”

His breath hitched as memories hit him hard and fast now. “When I didn’t work fast enough in the chimneys, he would light newspaper at my feet. Once when he was angry with me, he left me up in a chimney for three hours and told me if the people who owned the home returned, he would let them burn the fire with me trapped inside.”

Tears flooded her eyes, but she didn’t allow them to fall. “Too much smoke.”

He tiled his head in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You once told me London had too much smoke. Now I understand those words and the look on your face when you said them.”

He drew back. He was shocked she remembered such a detail. But of course she would. She was Celia, after all.

She sucked in her breath harshly. “How could he do that to a little boy?”

Clairemont shrugged. “He had been an apprentice himself and this was how his master treated him. He was also a mean drunk who beat me when we got home.”

“So you lived like this for your entire life?” she asked. “How in the world did you come to be at the War Department?”

“Not my whole life,” Clairemont said. “The bastard had the good grace to drop dead when I was ten. I was so thrilled when it happened, I knew I’d go straight to hell.”

“That’s where he went, not where you would go,” she said. “It was perfectly natural for you to celebrate his death.”

“Well, I celebrated until a day or two later when I realized I had no one to feed or house me. I was on the street with no money and no prospects. I was too big to apprentice for another sweep, and collectors came and took my former master’s horse and things as payment for a debt. I was left alone.”

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“Luckily we were close to London, so I came here,” he said. “I hated it, but there were more opportunities.”

“What did you do?” she asked. “At such a tender age?”

“I begged,” he admitted, color flooding his cheeks as he tried to picture what Celia would have been doing at ten in comparison to him. Her life had not been easy either, but if she had met him then, she would have turned away from him in horror, he was certain.

Her gaze softened. “And then?”

“How do you know there was an ‘and then’?” he asked, holding her gaze evenly.

“I know you,” she said. “I can see it. You’re afraid I will think less of you because of whatever you did. But let me reassure you—” She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. “—whatever you did, I will fully approve of. It kept you alive, it brought you here to me.”

He looked around him slowly, at this comfortable room where he didn’t belong. At the bed that contained a woman he certainly didn’t deserve. In clothes that had been made specially for him. He hadn’t had an empty stomach for years, nor gone without a roof over his head except for very specific instances where a case required it.

He had risen above his beginnings. And she said she didn’t care how he’d done it. But then, she hadn’t yet heard the truth. Perhaps that would change.

“I didn’t know anything more,” he began, trying to soften the words he would say. “I didn’t have skills or empathy. Hell, I didn’t have the ability to read. So I—I stole. For years I ran from hovel to hovel and I stole anything that wasn’t nailed down. I got good at it, too, sliding my hand into a man’s pocket and coming out with blunt.”

He shivered at the thought of those nights when pocket full of coils had been cause for a celebration. Even now he sometimes sized up the men around him to see if he could steal from them. He never did it, of course, but he knew his marks. Like it was an old habit, like he somehow feared he’d need those skills again someday so he kept them sharp.

“Of course you stole,” she said softly. “You had to eat.”

He drew back. “How can you not judge me for that?”

“There were times, looking out my window at night, that I thought about running away,” she said. “Certainly my situation with my grandfather was nothing like yours, but if I’d thought I was strong enough to do it, I would have tried. And I’m certain a young lady on the street must do far worse than steal to survive.”

Clairemont gritted his teeth at the thought of Celia doing such a thing. It turned his stomach that her childhood had been so difficult that she’d considered surrendering herself to the dirty, harsh life he had been thrown into. It made him hate her grandfather all the more.

“I’m glad you stayed in your rooms, safe and sound,” he said. “The street is no place for someone so lovely as you.”

“It was no place for you, either, Aiden. An innocent child? You should have had a home, safety, security.” She shook her head.

He threaded his fingers through hers. “There were many worse off than I was. Though I admit I was on a path of utter destruction. Arrest or death was my destination, and I knew it. I didn’t care. I almost welcomed those ends, for it meant no more rainy nights in alleys or being chased by toughs.”

“How did you escape?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I didn’t. I got caught,” he said. “I was in a tavern in one of the better parts of town, pretending to sell newspapers I’d stolen. Really, I was just looking for a mark. I’d gotten cocky, you see, thinking I could take from a toff as easily as I’d taken from a drunk in the rookery. I chose one. This dandy, or at least I thought he was a dandy. He was dressed nice and that said dandy to me at the time. But when I brought my hand out of his pocket, he grabbed my wrist.”

She lifted a hand to her lips. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. I’ll never forget what he said to me, ‘That was a good pull, boy. I almost didn’t feel it.’”

Celia blinked. “I’m sorry, he was
impressed
?”

“It seemed so, but
I
was terrified.” He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling every moment he described. “Especially when some others caught on and started screeching for the guard. I got dragged outside with the gentleman following, calm as you please. I was getting pushed around, people were yelling. Every time I tried to escape, someone else had me by the scruff of the neck.”

“And the gentleman just watched?” she asked.

He nodded. “Just watched. But as the guard appeared, two massive men who looked like they could rip my arms off, the gentleman stepped up to me and started asking questions.”

“What kind of questions?” she asked, clearly engrossed in the story.

And in truth, so was he. He often tried to forget his past, his story. Saying these words out loud brought back all of it, the good and the bad. There was something almost cathartic about the process.

“He wanted to know my name, but I wouldn’t give it. So he started asking me about how long I’d been on the street. Whether I knew how to read. He said if I was truthful, he might be able to help me.”

“So you told him,” she said.

“Hell no, I told him to sod off,” Clairemont said. “Excuse my language.”

“I have a feeling your true language was worse,” she said with a soft laugh. “But why did you do that? He was offering you an out.”

“But I was certain it came with a price. Why would I let some dandy have one over on me? That was my thought. I refused him, even as the guard got closer and my fate became clearer. And then they called him ‘my lord’ and I knew my goose was cooked. I’d get transported likely, if not worse.”

“You escaped?” she said.

“No, not at all. They were about to drag me off when the gentleman stepped in. He told them I hadn’t taken anything. That he wanted to handle it himself.”

Her lips parted. “What did
that
mean?”

“I wanted to know that myself. After a bit of negotiating, the guard gave me up. Probably didn’t want to have to deal with whatever they had to do to put me away and arrange for everything to do with my punishment. I was turned over to the man I’d tried to steal from. First thing I did was try to bolt, of course.”

“Of course,” she said. “I would have done the same.”

“But he had me firmly and tossed me in a carriage, and off we went. Back to this palace in the middle of a part of London I’d never dared to look at, let alone go into.”

“What did he want from you?” she asked, her hands shaking.

His had done the same that dark night. He remembered every moment so perfectly, all the horrible fates he had feared would befall him. And then he smiled.

“Once we were at his place, he took me into the kitchen and his servants brought me food. So much food. I’d never imagined one plate could hold so much. I gorged until I nearly vomited. And when I was done, he asked me if I’d come to work for him.”

“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.