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Once more, Dane shook his head. “I haven’t seen either one in ten years. No idea what sort of man Malcolm’s become.”
He’d been quiet and sullen back when Dane lived with them. But then again, their father hadn’t exactly encouraged brotherly affection and more often than not Malcolm had been off at school.
Lillian would know, but Dane hated the thought of bringing her into this any more than she already was. She’d suffered enough at Fallenmore’s hand. If it were up to him, she’d never have to hear the name again in this lifetime.
Tracker shifted, moving away from the windowsill with that panther-like grace of his. “I’ll go talk to the General. Maybe he’s heard something from his friends in theton.”
King nodded his approval. The General’s connections were useful at times like this. While he no longer frequented the balls and the soirées, he was still in demand with the widows and unhappily married matrons of good society. His war injuries combined with his genteel looks made it so he was never without the company of some fine lady or another, and those ladies had a tendency to relay the latest gossip—whether the General wished to hear it or not.
Dane went to follow Tracker out when King stopped him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking Lillian home—” King’s brows arched in surprise before Dane added, “She needs to gather her things.”
“Ah.” King’s expression turned smug. “So she’ll be staying then.”
Dane gave a short nod. He still had to apply for a common license but there was time for that. His first priority was ensuring her safety. After that they could focus on the future.
King chuckled as Dane turned away. “Never thought I’d see the day some lass turned our Beast into a happily married man.”
Dane ducked his head to hide the start of a smile. No one was more surprised than he was. Guilt reared up and killed the smile before it could form and he shut the door behind him to block out King’s low laugh.
Dane shouldn’t be so pleased. It wasn’t like she’d chosen him. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. She was desperate, that was all. And he was the cad who was taking advantage of her poor fortune.
But it was done now. Whether she lived to regret her decision...they’d find out. All he could do was try his best to ensure she was as happy and content as he could make her.
He’d never convince her to care for him the way he cared for her, but he could live with that. Just so long as she was happy, he could live with just about anything.
He found her ready and waiting when he returned to his home.
Mrs. Morris had washed her gown, and while it was still faded and worn, she was clean and more beautiful than he’d remembered. How was it that she was constantly surprising him with her beauty? He’d been thinking of nothing else but her flushed cheeks and her swollen lips ever since he’d left her rooms this morning. But it seemed his imagination couldn’t compare to the real thing because when she smiled as she entered his drawing room, he felt it like a punch to the gut.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Her smile was small and tentative. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
He watched as she clasped and unclasped her hands, her lips quivering ever so slightly. “You are nervous.”
Her smile broadened. “I’m not all together looking forward to telling my father about...this.”
She gestured toward him and then to herself. The blow from her smile was nothing compared to the way that simple comment gutted him. Of course. How stupid of him. Of course she was dreading telling her father that she was to marry the brutal bastard who’d done nothing with his life but hurt and kill.
“Would you rather I speak to him alone?”
Her smile made her eyes crinkle at the corners and his heart ached in response. “No, but I thank you for the offer. He should be grateful that you’ve offered to take me in. That’s what I keep reminding myself.”
Grateful. Was that all she felt? Gratitude?
The thought didn’t sit well.
“But even so, finding out that I’ve gone from the intended bride of an earl to another man’s mistress—”
“Mistress.” He repeated the word so harshly she blanched. Hell and damnation. He attempted to soften his tone. “You will not be any man’s mistress.”
His voice might have been softer but it sounded far more lethal and he cursed himself for it when she blinked rapidly, her lips parting in shock.
“But I thought...that is, I thought we’d agreed—”
“You will be my wife.” His pulse pounded in his ears as he tried to keep calm for her sake. But everything in him was screaming ‘mine.’
