“Why did you come to know him only recently?” She thought of Morgan’s confession earlier in the night. That Robert had thwarted the duel with Gareth Covington. But Roseford revealed nothing of that as he turned to face her.
“Katherine made me understand the value in connection. And she was right. Morgan is…challenging.” Roseford’s smile was soft. “But he’s…good.”
Lizzie bent her head and relived in a flash every moment she had spent with the topic of their discourse. Including last night. “Yes,” she said. “I see that in him. Daily.”
Robert stepped toward her. “Lizzie—”
She pivoted away, for she could see he wanted to push her on this topic. That her heart was too revealed. She had to remedy that immediately, else she make things worse for Morgan. “Have you seen him this morning?” she asked. “Is he well after last night’s attack?”
There was a long pause, but then Robert said, “Yes. He will be fine, thank God.”
“Good,” she said, and smoothed her skirts with both hands. “Well, I should probably go. I’m to join Amelia, Katherine and Charlotte for a round of cards before tea.”
She edged toward the door, but as she reached it, Robert’s voice stopped her. “Lizzie.”
She froze. Damn, she had thought to get away. “Yes?” She turned and met his eyes. So similar to Morgan’s eyes.
“You deserve to be happy,” Robert said softly.
Tears pricked at her unexpectedly and she blinked them away. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Don’t allow the past to destroy you,” he continued. “I almost did that myself.”
Her hands shook and she clenched them before her. “What about him? Morgan. Do you think…do you thinkhewill destroy himself?”
His lips parted and understanding crossed his face. “I—don’t know,” he said, his voice halting and his concern clear. “I hope not. I hope nothing he did in the past, nothing he will do in the future, will destroy him.”
She moved toward him a step. “You love him.”
“Yes,” Robert replied, this time with none of the hesitation that had been present throughout this awkward conversation. “He might not believe that, but I do.”
“Then he’s lucky,” Lizzie said. “I know the power of the love of an older brother.”
His smile widened. “Good day, Lizzie.”
“Good day,” she repeated, and slipped from the room. When she did, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in a long sigh. She knew Morgan was about to face all the things he’d done, everything he’d admitted to her the night before.
She could only hope he wouldn’t lose everything when he did. That she wouldn’t either.
Morgan sat waiting for Brighthollow before the fire in his employer’s office, staring at the flames as they devoured the wood. His head ached a little, but nothing like it had immediately after the attack. He knew he looked a fright, but there was nothing he could do about that. The bruises would heal. But they were bound to be a stark reminder to Brighthollow of what a danger Morgan might pose to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth. His mind wandered as he waited, but not to the places it should have. He should have been preparing what to say, thinking through his strategy no matter how Brighthollow responded.
Instead, he thought of how lovely Elizabeth was clothed only in firelight. How much warmer and brighter she was than either sun or moon. And how desperately he wanted to repeat what he knew was a one-time gift. He wanted to hold her against him for hours, days, weeks. For as long as it took to make himself forget that he didn’t deserve her.
The door across the room opened, and he jolted from those thoughts and rose to his feet as Brighthollow entered. The duke looked stern as his gaze flitted over Morgan. He shut the door and motioned Morgan back to his seat.
“How is your head?” he asked, and crossed to the sideboard where he picked up a sherry bottle and waved it toward Morgan.
Morgan nodded and watched his employer pour two glasses. “Better,” he said. “I’m only made slightly more hideous by the experience.”
“Lucky for that. Being knocked unconscious is nothing to play about with.” Brighthollow handed over Morgan’s glass and sat in the chair across from him. He took a sip of his own drink as he took Morgan in more closely. Too closely.
“Thank you for your concern, Your Grace,” Morgan said. “But I think you didn’t call me here to speak to me about my condition. I know you have questions about the attack.”
Brighthollow inclined his head. “I do. My key concern is if my family is in danger. Because it’s…changing.”
There was something about the way Brighthollow said it that made Morgan sit up a bit straighter. “You are…”
