Because of a tragedy, because of his uncle, his father, and his brother and cousin’s abysmal choices, Reed was left with everything. His feet and hands felt numb as a chill washed through him.
It was wrong! It was as though he had gone to sleep in his old life but woken up in an alternate world. Everything was wrong. He should not be the last man standing. He should not be Standish, and damnit, his actions proved he didn’t deserve to find happiness with someone so innocent and sweet as Goldie.
He did not deserve the sunshine. He only deserved darkness.
Newgate. It was the perfect punishment for a man like him—a man who benefited from the tragedy of his own blood relations.
The ceremony ought to have been Rupert’s. The ceremony ought to have happened on a Saturday morning—not late at night with none of the bride’s family present.
But his cousin had perished. Images of Rupert and Randal flashed through his mind: the three of them playing pirates in the woods, and later, noticing pretty girls together. Followed by memories of his father, holding his mother’s hand, laughing while they all sat at dinner.
Events that had all taken place before…
There must have been more Reed could have done. He’d known they were flirting with death—with hell. He’d known they were dancing with the devil. Reed ought to have been able to do something to protect them from themselves.
But Reed had failed them. He’d given up.
Watching Goldie, sweet, innocent Goldie, staring up at him with her heart in her eyes had revealed how undeserving he was. Because… Hell and damnation. He liked her!
He more than liked her.
And he’d been anxiously anticipating their wedding night.
But he couldn’t go through with it. Not after coercing her into marrying him as he’d done.
Reed flicked his gaze around his uncle’s dining room and exhaled.
Goldie had been prepared to go through it for him. She was… perfect. Everything he ever could have imagined. Reed fumbled with his cravat, untying the knot before tossing it onto the table. That chill left him in a cold sweat.
None of it made sense. Because he wanted nothing more than to go to her but… could not.
He burst to his feet. He needed—air. Even though her suite didn’t adjoin his, she would be too near. It would be too easy for him to go to her, to pretend he actually deserved any of this.
And so he exited onto the street and walked.
He walked around Mayfair for what felt like hours. He didn’t want to go to one of the gentlemen’s clubs that would be open. He’d had his share of drinking and gambling the night before.
But the more he walked, the more he knew what he needed to do.
Once decided, he changed his direction and made his way toward Fleet Street.
Lucky for him, the windows in the building that housed the Gazette’s offices glowed from inside.
The doors were locked, but with a few solid knocks, one of the clerks peered outside to see who would come at such a late hour. The man wore a long smock over his shirtsleeves and trousers, and most of his thin white hair stood on end while black ink smudged the side of his face.
“You got a story?” The older man scowled at him.
“Something like that,” Reed answered. “I need to speak with the earl. With Lord Helton.”
“The earl?”
“Maxwell Black.”
“Ah, and you are?”
“Standish.”
After eyeing Reed for a moment longer, the clerk opened the door and directed Reed to wait in the foyer. “I’ll see if he’s here,” he added.
