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They could torture him and he’d never admit to anything.
Withstanding torture had been part of his training, so why couldn’t he withstand the torment of the disappointment he saw in her eyes?
“My life is already open and closed,” he said. “I’m already a citation in an encyclopedia. Daniel, Duke of Ravenwood: hedonist, mercenary, dies alone, brother Colin inherits and restores the respectability of the family name.”
Her silence was deafening.
“All right, Raven. If that’s how you want to play this.” Her tone was resigned.
He’d won another round. A victory as hollow as a rotten tree trunk.
“How is Colin?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him, or your mother, in such a long time. I believe he married?”
“Colin is fulfilling all of my mother’s dreams. He distinguished himself at Cambridge and then found a shy, sweet-tempered lady to marry. They are expecting their first child early next year. He’ll be a fine duke after I drink myself into an early grave. He’s sober-minded and civic-minded. Cares for improving the conditions of the tenants on our estates and all of that.”
He’d made the choice to become a spy for his family. Because of Raven’s investigations, his father had not been formally charged with high treason, and Colin had a title and a fortune to inherit. Raven had to remember that when his choices began to feel wrong.
“And how is your mother?” he asked Indy. “I saw her last at the wedding breakfast for your brother and his duchess.”
“The dowager duchess is doing surprisingly well. I believe she is experiencing something of a second girlhood. She’s dressing her hair differently and wearing less plumage. And she spends a lot of time with Mari’s father, Mr. Lumley.”
“My mother never remarried, though she could have.” He looked out the window. Fog rolled around the carriage in a mist of mauve and gray.
She shivered and his first instinct was to drape his arm around her. He stopped himself with his arm half outstretched.
She was cold. He wanted to warm her.
She was in pain. He wanted to comfort her.
He noticed that she hadn’t moved back across to the opposite seat. She rested her head against the wall. “I’m so tired,” she said.
He fetched a woolen blanket and tucked it around her. “We’ve changed horses several times. We’ll be there soon. If you want to sleep more, you should.”
Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. The carriage jostled and she moved away from the wall, tilting toward him and dropping her head onto his shoulder.
Brave, knife-wielding, independent Indy, resting against him while she slept.
With her head on his shoulder and her warm breath against his neck, he was happier than he’d ever been. It was the happiest damned moment of his cold, blighted life.
And it was all kinds of wrong.
He could never let her know how perfect it felt to have her in his arms.
He was glad they’d be staying in separate residences in Paris. He didn’t trust himself anymore. What had happened in Athens had shaken more than his confidence. It had shaken his soul.
She made him want to stop putting one foot in front of the other, marching down the dutiful path.
When he was with her, all he wanted to do was touch her, hold her, taste her lips.
Raise his face to sunlight pouring through a stained-glass window.
Watch firelight find strands of silver in her hair.
Live another day. Find a new path.
Chapter 11
Her plans to outmaneuver Raven had misfired spectacularly, Indy reflected as the carriage they’d hired when they arrived in Paris rattled down the rue Notre Dame des Victoires.
