Page 85 of The Duke and the Darkness

“Do I get to take a base?” he asked cheekily. The girls were all giggling, and the boys were irritated that he’d interrupted their game with love poetry. Then his chocolate brown eyes landed on hers. “Or perhaps I scored a point.”

Oh, he’d definitely scored a point, all right. And not in any way that made leaving London easier. Just when she thought she might be able to put her feelings behind her and move on, he had to go and do something as romantic as recite a love poem to her. Did the blasted man have any idea how much her heart was breaking?

“You cut the queue,” she informed him instead, somehow gathering enough strength not to break down. Or throw herself into his arms. “You’re disqualified.”

The children let out a flurry of laughter at Devlin’s expense.

He eyed them knowingly. “That’s not the support I’d expect from my team. And after I asked Mrs. Martin to open Brechenhurst early today, too, so that you could all have warm sticky buns and cups of chocolate.”

The little faces lit up with excitement. They didn’t move, not wanting to break the spell and have what he was saying be nothing but a terrible joke.

“She’s waiting for you now.” He nodded in the direction of the shelter halfway down the street. “Go on.”

The children let up a cheer and raced toward the front door of Brechenhurst, their game quickly forgotten. All but one ran away. A little girl named Charlotte lingered behind.

“But you promised the winner a coin and new coat,” Charlotte reminded her in a quiet voice that broke Peyton’s heart. The girl had already learned in her brief life how few people kept their promises.

“So I did.” Peyton reached into the pocket of her pelisse and withdrew a shiny new penny. She bent down on her heels to the little girl’s level and held it out. “I don’t have the coat with me, though. That will be coming later today. But you’ve won this fair and square.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip in hesitant distrust as she slowly approached, as if she expected Peyton to pull the penny away and laugh at her. Peyton didn’t move, except to place the coin in the girl’s outstretched palm.

The girl closed her hand around it as if it were as valuable as a gold sovereign, then pressed it against her chest. “Oh, thank you, miss!”

“Ah-ah!” Peyton held up her finger as the girl turned to walk away. “Spell your name.”

The girl hesitated, sliding an uncertain look at Devlin for help. When he didn’t interfere, letting her do this on her own, she pulled in a deep breath and spelled, “C-H-A-R-L-O-T.”

Peyton smiled sadly, knowing she wouldn’t be here to help the little girl learn to spell. “Close enough.”

With a quick hug, she sent Charlotte racing back to the shelter and the treats waiting there.

“You’re wonderful with them.” Devlin held out his hand to help her up. “They trust you a great deal.”

She shook her head. “They don’t trust anyone, not really.” She rose, bringing herself face-to-face with him. “But I understand that.”

“I’m certain you did. Once.” He didn’t release her hand. “But I hope that’s changed, that you’ve come to trust in my family. And in me.”

She dodged answering that by tossing him a saucy smile. “How could I distrust a man who flatters me by reciting Byron?”

He curled her arm around his and slowly began to walk with her toward the shelter. “Did it work? I hear most women like sweet nothings and charming flattery.”

“I amnotmost women.”

He leaned down to caress his lips against her temple and murmured, “How well I know that.”

Ignoring the butterflies in her belly that launched into full flutter, she quickly changed the subject, and her amusement from only moments before vanished, along with her smile. “You’ve done it, then? You’ve told them everything about our fathers?”

“Everything they need to know.”

That was a duck if ever she’d heard one. But she understood. Only so much shock could be absorbed at one time. The rest of what their fathers had done would come little by little, when the moment was right.

She turned her face away. “They must hate me.”

“Not at all.”

She bit back a grim laugh. “How can they not? My father made their evil possible. Your father and Crewe’s wouldn’t have been able to fund their enterprise if he hadn’t handled the money for them.” Then the butterflies in her stomach turned into sickening knots. “The money I found after the attack, all squirreled away in investments and properties—all of it is tainted.”

“Not all of it. Your mother had a large dowry that your father invested into legitimate businesses and bonds when they married, and his salary with the Bank of England was more than enough to buy property.” An amused grin pulled at his lips. “Including the small estate in Sussex that you used for collateral the night we became reacquainted at Barton’s.”