Page 71 of The Duke and the Darkness

“You can. You’ll have a new life here.” He smiled at himself and corrected, “You’ll have an actual life here.”

But what kind of life would it be, alone even while surrounded by strangers in a city which had become as foreign to her as the deserts of Arabia? Who could she trust or depend upon?

“My mother and sisters have already embraced you. They’ll be upset if you leave.”

“And when they learn what my father did, how he enabled monsters to harm innocent people?” Her voice broke, and it took all her strength to force out her fear, “Will they still embrace me then?”

“You need to give them a chance, Peyton. They understand the plight of innocents.”

How much she wanted to believe that! But when his family learned the extent of the crimes that had been committed, when everything they’d believed in was destroyed, what would they think of her then? And Devlin…would the past take him from her, too? “Canyouforgive my father’s role in harming you?”

“I don’t have to forgive your father, Peyton. I only have to accept what he did.” Empathy colored his voice. “You’re the one who has to find a way to forgive.”

How could she forgive when everything about London reminded her of her father and the price her family had paid for what he’d done? How could she carve out a future here when the past still haunted her?

“I don’t know how.” Each word emerged from her lips with agonizing hesitation. “I need your help.”

“I can’t help with that.” His eyes were more grim than she’d ever known them. “You have to find a way to do that yourself, or you will never find peace.”

She reached for him. “Devlin—”

A sharp knock rapped on the door only a second before it opened, and Margaret rushed inside, all reassuring smiles and glowing excitedly.

Peyton turned away before Margaret could see her swipe at her eyes.

“Mama sent me to fetch you.” She saw their grim expressions, pulled up short, and frowned. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine,” Devlin answered, and Peyton was glad. At that moment, she couldn’t have uttered a word.

“Good.” Margaret held open the door. “It’s time for your announcement.”

Oh God.Peyton inhaled a deep breath that did little to steel her for what was to come and nodded.

Devlin held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”

Another nod, just as stiff as the first. Yet Peyton allowed him to take her arm and escort her from the drawing room, with Margaret following dutifully behind.

“You don’t have to do this,” Devlin told her again. His concern devastated her. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Yes, it is,” she replied in a hoarse whisper.Ten years too late.

Forgive the past…that’s what Devlin wanted her to do, and she could think of no better way to do that than bringing all thesecrets out into light. She’d made up her mind. She would put an end to it by doing just that…by telling the world everything.

Tonight.

Chapter Eighteen

Devlin stole aglance at Peyton as he escorted her toward the ballroom stairs. Her spine was ramrod straight, her head held high. Every inch of her shouted how determined she was to go through with their plan. He prayed they’d made the right decision.

His mother and Crewe waited for them on the stair landing. Devlin felt Peyton pull in a deep breath as he led her toward them.

“You will do fine,” Devlin murmured, giving one last word of encouragement before handing her off to his mother. “Just do as we planned. Stand before them and admit your true identity, and Crewe, Chase, and I will take care of the rest.”

Her stiff nod did little to reassure him. Neither did the parting look she gave him over her shoulder as his mother linked Peyton’s arm in hers and led her toward the wrought iron railing overlooking the crowded ballroom below.

Yet the only way onward was forward, so he nodded at Crewe, and the two men flanked Peyton and the duchess in a show of solidarity. Margaret and Theodora lingered at the side of the landing, their presence reinforcing the Raines family’s support. After all, this moment wasn’t about making a news announcement. It was a show of power.

His mother gestured to the portly but authoritative master of ceremonies at the bottom of the stairs. The man nodded and signaled to the lead musician to end the song. When the music stopped, he pounded his staff on the marble floor and shouted over the din of conversation to capture the attention of everyone in the ballroom and turn their gazes to the landing above.