He nodded. As he’d come to know her—come to love her—he’d wanted freedom for her just as greatly as she wanted it herself. He hated how stifled she was. He would do anything to help her.
“It almost seems unfair—and I do realize how ridiculous that is for me to say when practically being handed a fortune—but it feels unfair that the potential to finally be in charge of myself can only come through means dictated by another.”
Lucas nodded. “I am sorry.”
She dropped her hands, letting out another frustrated breath. “I apologize. I should not be unburdening my troubles on you now.”
Whatever he was feeling in that moment, it was not annoyance. “Did I not do just the same? I do not mind in the least. After all, we are friends, are we not?” The word left a strange taste in his mouth.
“Yes,” she said, staring at a design in the carpet. “Friends.” Her next breath was audible, though her face was not visible. “Lord Berkeley, I have a confession.”
He said nothing, only waited. And the interim seemed impossibly long before she spoke again.
“I do believe I might have made a mistake.”
“How?” he murmured.
Another audible breath then her eyes lifted, flicking between both of his, searching for something. “I... I believe I’ve fallen in love with you.”
His heart, which moments before had been hammering against his chest, froze entirely. His mind whirred, but no thought came. Love.
Love. It was only a word but dash it—it was far more than that. It was perfection personified. It was everything he wanted just in reach. But it went against everything he’d planned for. It went against every part of himself that he’d been so precisely training—so perfectly controlling.
Dash it all.Speak, man!
Her eyes widened, her lips pressed together, then she took a step back. “As I said,” she muttered, voice uneven, “it is a mista—”
Something came over him. Something entirely out of his control but exactly what he wished to do deep down. Before she moved too far, he stepped forward, slipping an arm around her waist, and pulled her to him. The movements felt practiced, though they were anything but.
No, not practiced. Right. They felt right.
He looked down at her, his eyes desperately conveying everything he could not bring himself to say. His throat was too full of the reasons they could not be.
Her chin tilted, and that was all the welcome he needed. Softly, he pressed a kiss to her lips.
She returned the pressure, leaning into him in a way that nearly had him groaning. Her hands came to his arms, just above his elbows, and her fingers gripped as tightly as he held her to him.
He tilted his head, hands sliding up her back until one cradled the nape of her neck and the other splayed between her shoulder blades. His lips moved across hers as she pulled even closer.
A yell from somewhere in the house drew his attention, but it was as if the sound were coming from miles away. His brain quickly deemed it unimportant compared to what he was in the midst of doing. His hold tightened against her.
Another yell sounded. Miss Faraday startled, breaking their connection.
He very nearly pulled her right back to him, but she stepped back, concern etched across her flushed face. The shout came again, and this time, he could tell it washisname being called. He and Miss Faraday shared a look.
Lucas made for the door.
“Lucas!” It was Charlie’s voice.
“I’m here!” he yelled back, running for the stairs. Charlie met him before he reached the landing. “What is wrong?”
“Blast man, what is your club doing?” Charlie gasped, his expression a mixture of anger and panic.
“What do you mean?”
“Your club! That blasted club I followed you to! I just had two men set upon me outside White’s. They warned me off using my boxing as a front for poaching their employees.”
Miss Faraday caught up with them. “Charlie, your arm!”
