Her slim brows knit together. “Yes, I am… And I am the one propositioningyou.That makes me the villain here, Your Grace, not you. You refusing me makes you a good father.”
But him wishing he didn’t have to refuse her made him a horrible one.
“Checkmate,” she said.
Well, that was quick.
“So, you lie about being a poor father. And you lie about loving chess. Why?”
“I didn’t lie about loving chess. Ilovechess. Great—”
“Yes, yes, great game, chess.” She waved him off. “First, that was so easy, it was like taking sweetmeats from a child. Though I’m not even sure I can count it as a win, considering nearly half the moves you made weren’t evenmoves. Pawns can only move diagonally if you are capturing an opponent’s piece. You don’t even know how to play chess, do you?”
He sighed and looked away. “No, I do not. It never interested me. It bores me dreadfully, if I’m being honest. My interests lie with horses, swimming, anything outdoors, really, Norse mythology.” His eyes widened. “And rocks, of course,” he hurried to add.
She rested her elbows on the chess table, settling her chin on her interlaced hands. A small smile slowly curved her lips. It was so informal, intimate. A pose he could imagine she only used with her family and close friends. With a lover.
That would not do at all.
“Do you know what I love about Norse mythology?” he blurted. “I just love all themurderandkilling.And there is so much deceit and betrayal. It is so exciting.” There—he almost smiled—that should scare her off. “Did you know, the god Loki tricked a blind man into killing one of his fellow gods? It was dreadfully clever and conniving.” It actually had been. The myths were fascinating and sometimes…Ash felt as though he could relate.
Felicity snorted, her amber irises dancing like dappled sunlight. “Hmmm, I see. You are trying to deter me, Your Grace. Scare me off. With yourboringhobbies,darkobsessions, and falsehoods of being a poor father.”
All right, so perhaps he had lain it on a bit thick. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I am a horrible father. Instead of giving my sons attention and guidance, I gave them coin and whatever material item they wanted. It did not exactly shape them into respectable or honorable gentlemen. I am the reason you are unhappy with Colborn.”
He ran a hand through his hair, shaking it lightly before dropping it back to the table. “And the reason Jacob barely returns home. The reason Pandora will not be ready for her coming out. The reason why her future looks terribly bleak when it comes to finding a husband. I have set her up for failure.”
His admissions had the opposite effect he was hoping for. There was no disgust on her face, instead her features softened in…concern?
She slowly reached forward and rested her hand atop his. Her ungloved hand. Where were her bloody gloves?
“Because a father makes mistakes doesn’t make him a bad father.”
Her words drifted to him, and his gaze flicked up to meet hers.
“The way you love Pandora is so blatantly obvious I could be blind and deaf and still know, Your Grace. The love ispalpable.”
The organs inside his chest tightened painfully, his ribs closing in, threatening to perforate the vital pieces inside of him. Because of how badly he wanted to believe those words. Wanted to believe that loving his children was enough to make him a good father. But neglected sons and a daughter that society would shred to pieces did not a good father make.
Her fingers slowly ran over the back of his hand, and a shiver stole all the way up his arm. It was impossible for him to pull away. Her grasp trapped him with its gentleness. Her gaze imprisoned him with its compassion.
“And I have a feeling that love extends to your sons. Just because you don’t always make the right choices doesn’t mean you are failing as a father. It is never too late to try to make up for any choices you regret.”
He cleared his throat, desperate to get rid of the lump forming there. He did love his children. More than anything. The issue was he had no idea how to be a father. He never had. And he had no idea how to make up for the mistakes he had made thus far. But he knew one thing with certainty.
He finally pulled his hand from her grasp. “I suppose you can see, then, that sleeping with my son’s betrothed would not be a good place to start in building back my relationship with my son.”
She looked away as something flashed over her face, a small tightening of her features. Like pain. Or shame.
But then she caught his gaze again, her brows set in a determined line. “There is one small problem with that, Your Grace. I do not want to be your son’s betrothed. While I can understand the sentiment of wanting to improve your relationship with your son, I will not throw awaymyfuture for that sake.”
She leaned forward, eyes all amber fire. “You admit, he has not turned into an honorable gentleman. Yet that unprincipled man is whose property I will become. Wouldyouallow Colborn total control of your future?”
His eyes widened before he could stop them, and he knew by her small, satisfied smile that she had glimpsed his brief slip of terror. Because truly, the thought of Colborn being in charge of anything, let alone someone else’s life, was terrifying.
His son was essentially a five-and-twenty child who should still be donning a skeleton suit. He certainly hadn’t outgrown it with maturity.
“I want you to know something, Your Grace,” she said, a tiny muscle ticking in her set jaw. “I have spoken to my brother and my mother many times about my concerns, wanting a way out of this betrothal. Those concerns have been repeatedly dismissed. I have no other alternative. This is my last chance at saving my future, of gaining control of my life. And I will do my damnedest to ensure I do not fail.”
