She sat up. When had she lost the memory of North’s face? Frowning, she stepped back through days and weeks, trying to find when she’d thought of him last. At the Black Widow’s office, but she hadn’t taken the time to picture his countenance. Before that, it had been months prior, when she’d first faced her desire for marriage and children and contemplated retirement. Even then, had she thought about his looks or just the way he’d made her feel?
Recognizing that her desperation stemmed from fighting her yearning for Luke, she took a deep breath. His appearance and Luke’s did not matter. Neither were appropriate men for her to marry, and she’d do well to rememberthat, rather than faces or rather impressive cocks.
It was time to release the Lyon cub from the cage and let him roam free.
Chapter Twenty
Luke didn’t evenbother climbing into bed. Dragging a chair from the fireplace to stare out the window, he tried to sift through his swirling thoughts and plan.
There was an ache behind his breastbone that felt similar to when his father sent him to boarding school. Rejection hurt his pride, but the more important question remained unclear. Did he still want to marry Belle, knowing she’d almost chosen his father, the very man who had rejected him? More than that, others knew that she’d been The Earl’s paramour. Did he want children to suffer for their mother’s past?
He snorted. Only in the Ton would children suffer because their mother loved two men, while not being at all affected by their father’s past as a drunken sot. It was so ridiculous to consider, it made him realize he cared not one whit for any contrived rules or frivolous-minded gossips who could not see how intelligent and caring Belle was.
However, that only addressed the external concern. He was willing to admit to himself, although perhaps not to Belle, that he trailed her in maturity as well as age. He’d worked hard to make progress on that, though, and he liked to think that was part of their dynamic. He encouraged her to have a bit more funand be a little more frivolous, while she kept an eye on his focus and goals.
Picturing himself playing hide and seek a sable-haired girl and a chestnut-haired boy, he imagined Belle walking by his hiding spot and him yanking her in with him for a kiss before encouraging her to join their game. The vision changed to them at the supper table, discussing the progress of each of his—their—organization’s patrons.
He had already schooled himself to stop worrying about his father’s expectations. He would create his own life, goals, and responsible hobbies, and make no apologies for them. He’d communicate his past transgressions and his plans for the future, and his father would accept them or not. This was simply another layer. He loved Belle. Nothing would change that, including his father’s feelings on the appropriateness of their relationship.
And no matter what Belle’s experience with The Earl had been, if she was able to accept Luke’s feelings and see him as a responsible adult, he wanted her. But therein lay the crux. He’d been foolish to think Belle would find him acceptable as a partner. Hell, even Will, who had his act together, struggled to win the woman he loved. As for him, if his own father found him unlovable, why would a woman who had seen him at his worst think otherwise?
He watched the sun rise, dreaming up then discarding wild tactics to win over Belle. When he heard movement in her bedroom, he ran downstairs and requested that the kitchen start coddled eggs, toast, and tea. He wandered the lower floor until the tea was ready.
When Belle entered the dining room, they both sat as her breakfast was delivered. Looking at her meal that took close to half an hour to prepare, she shot him a surprised look.
“You didn’t think I’d learned your preference in meals? Do you really see me as that self-centered?” He couldn’t help it. His tone was bitter.
She looked pained. “I am sorry.”
“Belle—”
“No. Please. I thought about this all night. I did not feel this match was appropriate when Mrs. Dove-Lyon suggested it, and certainly nothing we learned last night is going to change that. Also, as I said to her and saw again last night, you are ready to return to your own home, your own life.”
“Blast,” he muttered. He’d feared she’d leap right to this, not allowing him even a chance to convince her.
She was dithering with her silverware, avoiding his gaze.
This was not going to plan.
He took a breath to speak, but she looked up and said, “Luke, the North I knew is not the person you describe. I think there have been miscommunications, or perhaps misinterpretations of actions. If you could—”
“You are taking his side now?” He clenched his jaw in anger, fisting his napkin and throwing it on the table. “How little faith you have in me. I’m so immature I don’t notice what you eat, I don’t see the love pouring out of my taciturn father. Yet again, I am a failure in someone’s eyes.”
“No, no,” she reached across to cover his fist. “I beg your pardon. That came out poorly, I don’t doubt or dismiss your experience. I meant I think there is a way through it. I know your father cared for you when we... were together. Perhaps he did not show it well. Perhaps he was ignorant of how to show it. But if there were—and I hope there were—good intentions, there might be a path to reconciliation.”
“Just as you have taught me, a simple verbal apology will not fix years of ill deeds.”
“I think you want to reconcile. My belief is that you were drowning in whisky and all sorts of destructive behavior to get some reaction out of him, some recognition.”
His brows rose. She might not be entirely wrong. Perhaps he needed to have a conversation sooner rather than later with his father, especially if it would ease Belle’s mind.
“Anyway,” she continued, “you are right. It would take more than words to fix things—but what if he wants to do that, also? I think it is worth discussing.”
“I shall consider it. I trust your judgment, Bellissima.” He caught her gaze and held it. “You have proven my point yet again. You are the most caring person I know. Even as you struggle to see a path for us, you’re more concerned with my future than your own.”
She flushed. “’Tis more than a struggle. Luke, I cannot marry you.”
“You mean you will not, at least right now. I hope to change your mind.” Gulping a breath, he caught and held her gaze, and said, “I love you. I am in love with you.”
