“You already know my father, and I do not either. Neither did Adrian.” She sighed, her expression turning reserved. “He protected me as much as he could, and then… he joined the army. He and my father clashed too much, and he felt as though he had to get away, however possible. He wanted to live a life of honor, in contrast to our father.ThatI understand, but…” She swallowed. “He died in the war. I was eighteen years old, about to enter London for the first time, and the one person I had trusted to guide me was gone.”
He had assumed, erroneously, that her upbringing had been far easier than his; he had been wrong. The raw grief in her eyes proved that.
“That’s why I came to you myself,” she continued. “When I asked you to cancel the wedding. I had never chosen the match, and you must understand, it had nothing to do with you.”
“I know,” he said.
At the time of their engagement, they had not known each other. She could not have dislikedhimso much as the prospect of marrying a stranger, and that he could understand.
She stopped in an inky pool of darkness beside a tree, hidden in part by the house. They were skirting the very edge of propriety, and although he shouldn’t, he wanted to push her all the way past it.
Or rather, he wanted to offer his hand and have her accept; he wanted her tochooseto step past it.
“If my brother had still been around, he would never have allowed me to become engaged to a stranger,” she said, tilting her head to look up at him. “He would have given me the chance to choose my own path. My father does not know how that feels. He sees me as something else he owns, and that he would rather give away.”
Maxwell raised a hand, brushing his fingertips down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“I miss Adrian more than I can say.” She placed a hand on her heart, and he felt her pain as though it were his own.
In a way, it was. His grief mirrored hers. Older, but no less strong for it. He missed Christopher just as much as she missed her brother. Both of their lives would look different if their respective brothers had not passed away.
The difference was, for better or worse, her brother had died in the war, defending his country.
Christopher had ridden off a cliff because he could not bear the life he had been given.
“You deserve better than a father who sees you as property,” he said, unable to stop himself from taking her hand and pressing it against his lips. “And I’m sorry your brother couldn’t protect you.”
Her breath hitched as his mouth skimmed her gloved knuckles. But even though he waited for it, she didn’t pull away.
“That’s all right,” she said, her voice thin and breathy. “It merely meant I learned to protect myself.”
Like she had when she had come to him asking to be released from their engagement.
Like she had when she went to the club alone, doing whatever business she saw fit to do there.
He felt the sudden, unsettling need to be the one to protect her, so she would not put herself in dangerous situations all under the name of independence. A woman could have independence without endangering herself; he had no desire to stop her from doing the things she wanted to do, but he did wish that she would not risk getting hurt by doing so.
The urge to protect and defend and makehimstartled him so much that he stepped back.
There might have been more to learn about Lady Thalia and her situation than he had known—and more reasons for her to defy her father—but he did not need distraction. The only reason he had returned to London was so he could see Lydia through a Season, find her a suitable husband, and secure her future.
That was all. Lady Thalia was nothing but a distraction, and a poorly timed one. Even if she had been amenable to marrying, and he knew better than to think that, she had made it clear she had no intention of marrying him.
“I should return to the house,” he said, hearing the gruffness in his voice. Desire was one thing—he could conquer desire. But anything softer within him would have to be snuffed out immediately. “We can’t be gone too long.”
For a long moment, she merely looked at him, and he wondered if she would refuse. Wondered, in a burst of madness, if she would take hold of him and pull him further into the shadows. His body came alive at the thought, and even as he attempted to quell the image, his mind provided him with examples of what that might be like.
Her soft body pressed against his. Her hungry mouth. The last time, she had been ravenous, a creature of heat and passion that had made him nearly mad with desire. He would have taken her there and then if she had not pulled away and he had not recovered his mind.
Logic. He had to remain logical. If something were to happen between them here, he would then have to marry her, and that would ruin all his plans, and likely hers, too.
Still, part of him, the part ruled by his cock, hoped she would throw caution to the wind.
Of course, she didn’t. She merely laughed lightly and said, “Of course, Your Grace. Let us be very good and proper and return to the party and pretend nothing has ever occurred between us.”
“And what,” he said in a low voice as he led her out of the shadow and into the light, “would you say occurred between us?”
“Today? Nothing of note.”
