He couldn’t even deign to think those kinds of thoughts. To have her for himself? To marry her. No.No.
But his heart screamed yes.Yes!
Fuck, it was too wretchedly painful. Bury, bury, bury. Bury it all down.
Sam’s brows arched, and his eyes oozed skepticism. He crossed his large forearms over his chest. “I would like to demand a big fucking why not?”
Ash threw up his arms. “Because it would be a bloody scandal!”
“You’re a duke,” Sam pointed out like that solved everything. It actually did most times.
“Yes, so perhaps we wouldn’t be given the cut direct because of my title, andImost likely would be praised”—he waved a hand in front of his groin—“because I have a penis. But her friends and acquaintances would make themselves scarce. Only a brave few who were true friends would remain, if that. She’ll be whispered about at every turn, scorned, made into a spectacle. The only invitations we’ll receive are ones so that our scandal could be flaunted.Look who we invited, the harlot who bedded her fiancé’s father.”
His head fell. Fuck. If word ever got out… Absolutely not. It wouldn’t.
Sam walked forward and clapped Ash on the shoulder. “You know what I think, mate? After the past few days observing her and getting to know her? She won’t give a bloody damn. But I’m not going to argue with you or try to convince you.”
Ash stared warily at his friend, unsure if there was a surprise attack coming. Sam never gave in that easily. And considering all the things he’d pulled thus far…
Sam smiled, as always easily able to read Ash’s mind. “I don’t need to, Ash. I’ve seen the way she is with you, the way she looks at you, the way you lost yourselves in each other during that waltz. It was once-in-a-lifetime shite.” He lifted his brows at Ash, so sure, so certain, that he was correct.
But Sam was being fanciful. He read one too many gothic novels. Life didn’t actually work that way. Not everyone got their happily ever afters. Where was Winnifred’s happily ever after? She had been saddled with Ash at the age of sixteen and had lived a miserable existence until Ash’s actions cut her life much too short. Why should he get that perfect dream-of-a-future when he had taken that away from someone else?
Sam squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t need to convince you because I know Lady Felicity will do the convincing herself.”
Ash turned away. The problem was, he thought he might agree with Sam. If he allowed Felicity enough time, she could probably convince him to do anything. But there was nothing keeping her here any longer. She was free of her unwanted betrothal. Once Pandora’s birthday was over, Felicity could go home. A hollowness burned its way through his stomach.
She would find some other gentleman, one who would treat her well, love her like she deserved, and live a happy life. The hollowness grew, like someone was carving a hole in his gut with a dull, rusted-over spoon. A happy Ash-free life.
He drew in a deep breath. That was exactly what Ash wanted. Truly. He was happy to torture himself with the memory of their night together for the rest of his days. It was enough, if she ended up with the future she deserved. It would be enough. He splashed water over his face and washed it all away. The hurt and the hopelessness and the heartbreak.
Sam helped Ash get ready for the day, fortunately letting the topic rest and moving on to discuss the activities planned for Pandora’s birthday. Eventually the melancholy lifted, forced away about excitement over celebrating with his daughter. He couldn’t wait to see her. His now fifteen-year-old daughter. Lord help him.
He was sure the day would only look up from here.
30
Ash
Ashwaswrong.Theday did the opposite of looking up.
“That was a terrible shot, Felicity,” Pandora said from where she sat on a bale of hay, booted foot bouncing while she basked in her healthy lead at their make-shift archery competition. Her mouth pursed, and her blonde brows scrunched together. “Perhaps your poor performance is on account of your nightmares.”
Felicity turned, dropping the bow to her side, and tilted her head at Pandora. “Nightmares?”
Pandora’s innocent blue irises shone with sympathy, and she nodded. “I heard noises coming from your room last night. Screams and moans.” Her lips tilted in a commiserating smile. “Night terrors arethe worst.”
Ash’s eyes flew wide, and his jaw went slack. Dear fucking Lord. Someone please drown him in the English Channel.
His son went stone-rigid next to him.
Shite, shite, shite.
Felicity’s identical shocked gaze shot to Ash, her cheeks blooming a crimson with alarming alacrity. He took a breath and glanced at his son. Who lookedhurt.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
A cold sweat broke out on his neck. He had never intended for Colborn to find out. Even if his son had admitted to not having legitimate feelings for Felicity, Ash had wanted to keep his one night with Felicity between himself and Felicity. He had no desire to rub anything in his son’s face. No desire to hurt his son. Any more than he already had.
