“It’s not as if I’m a lady—”
“Don’t.” The hot flash in his eyes, like bottled lightning, cut her off. “Don’t ever say that you are less than anyone, Fancy, because you are not.”
Squaring her shoulders, she said, “You don’t know everything about me. I am a foundling—”
“I know. Your father told me,” he clarified at her look of surprise. “Regardless of your origins, you deserve respect, and I was a bastard for implying otherwise with my foolish actions.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I ain’t right for you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Not two weeks ago, you wanted Bea because she’s a lady. You never even noticed me.”
“I noticed.”
His eyes were still heated, but now in a different way. And the memories of their passion came rushing back, weakening her knees and her resolve. But she couldn’t let herself weaken; she had to end what never should have begun.
“You…you didn’t want to kiss me,” she blurted.
She didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation. He bit out an oath, the vehemence of it surprising her. For an instant, she glimpsed beneath his veneer of ruthless restraint: a hot-blooded man stared back at her with hunger and strange torment.
“It is not a question of wanting.” His voice had a guttural edge.
Why else wouldn’t he kiss her? She drew herself up. “You needn’t make excuses. I know that I’m not the sort o’ female you want for a wife.”
“Damnit, Fancy. This isn’t about you; it is about me and my situation.” He exhaled. “There are things I need to tell you so that you fully understand what I’m offering you.”
“You don’t ’ave to offer me anything.”
“Christ, are you always this stubborn?” He dragged a hand through his hair, a gesture of male frustration that she hadn’t seen from him before. “Will you do me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say? What I have never told anyone else?”
Curiosity punctured her shield of pride. Stiffly, she nodded.
“Thank you.” His gaze lowered briefly before meeting hers. “The reason I didn’t kiss you was because of a promise I made years ago. To a lady. I gave her my vow not to kiss anyone else.”
A sudden throbbing filled Fancy’s ears. She remembered the bright yearning in his eyes that instant she’d caught him unawares staring over the pond.
“Who…who is she?” she asked in a scratchy voice.
“Her name is Imogen Hammond. I met her when I was fifteen and she was thirteen,” he said gruffly. “Well, not met exactly—I pushed her out of the path of a runaway carriage. Her family was grateful, and her father hired me on. As the stable boy I did not socialize with the family, but Imogen was kind to me. She would sneak out to see me…and eventually we fell in love.”
Fancy felt disoriented, as if she were awakening from an episode of sleepwalking. Far from being a cynic about love, Knight did indeed have a romantic story. One in which the part of the princess was played by Imogen Hammond. Even the lady’s name was beautiful.
With dread and anticipation, Fancy asked, “What ’appened?”
“Nothing at first. I knew that her papa would never allow her to wed the stable boy. So I set out to better myself and earn my fortune. I quit the Hammonds and found work as a guard-for-hire. Easy money if you’re willing to risk your neck.” Knight shrugged, as if it meant nothing that he’d risked his life to win the woman of his dreams.
It ought to have been difficult for Fancy to imagine the duke in front of her working as a bodyguard. Yet she’d always sensed his primal power, which came not from wealth or position but from a deeper essence. The background he’d shared explained much: he was a man who’d literally fought for his success.
“A couple of years into that line of work, I saved a client’s life,” he went on in the same matter-of-fact manner. “The client, James Hessard, owned a number of manufactories, and he repaid me by offering me a job as his right-hand man. Hessard mentored me in the trade, and I eventually became a partner. When he retired, I bought him out and expanded the business. By the time I was five-and-twenty, I was a rich man, but it wasn’t enough. Imogen wed someone else.”
“Who?” Fancy asked even though it wasn’t any of her business.
“The Earl of Cardiff,” he said tonelessly.
“I’m sorry, Knight.”
“You have no reason to be. Imogen was a dutiful daughter who could not disobey her family’s wishes. She’s been married five years now; she and Cardiff have two children.”
Despite Knight’s neutral tone, there was a faraway look in his gaze. Empathy and yearning fell like pinpricks upon Fancy’s heart. Hewasas steadfast and loyal as any knight of old. For five years, Imogen had been married to another, and Knight still saved his kisses for her and her alone.
Fancy remembered what he’d said about love being a gamble, how it was better not to take the risk.Now she understood why he believed this to be true: hehadtaken the risk, and his heart had been smashed to smithereens.
