Frankly, he didn’t recognize himself.
She’d been so close all along. What cruel fate. The mere door’s thickness apart was unforgivable. Not that she’d suffer his touch or company.
She’d changed as well over the past year.
That strong but passionate woman was gone. The woman he’d saved and watched over a distant memory. A statue stood with her face now, exterior so hard and cold, he’d broken his heart against the surface. But... the cunning and clever eyes, that ridged spine, a woman, a hardened general stood in her place.
And he loved her.
Thirteen months of torment and worry had solidified his paltry description of want and desire into a true depth of emotion.
Renard took off down the drive, needing the fresh air and laborious walk back to Lux Estate to clear the Scotch fog from his mind.
She claimed she didn’t know him, but he’d change that. Was it something the Madam at the Pony had said? Had she revealed his past about his parents and the fire?
He kicked a rock in his path and watched it skid towards the future. His hand went to his pocket, where a second rock lay hidden, smaller and more precious than any gravel, owned by a duke or not. There was a chance. If he held that piece of her and their time together, their bond couldn’t break.
Now that he’d found her, he’d never risk losing her again. His past transgressions and impending doom had hung over him in suspended animation these months, as if waiting to crash his life to pieces only after he’d made amends.
Temper, secrets, the drinking; he’d leave it all behind. He wouldn’t tempt fate after receiving this second chance.
He wouldn’t need one. He’d do it right this time. It didn’t matter if Madam had told her the truth.Hehadn’t.
He’d reveal himself to her, the lies and blood on his hands, the love and wishes of his innermost desires, and his heartfelt apology for being a ruddy ass.
All before she ran away for good this time.
*
Camille shut thelibrary door behind her and watched Hamish’s and Charlotte’s gazes silently search the space behind her.
“He’s gone,” she said.
Hamish settled into his high-backed chair, expression pensive and annoyingly patient. Charlotte, God love her, had no such control.
She flung her arms around Camille’s shoulders and squeezed. “Are you all right? Gracious, of course you’re not. How indecorous, my brother. Next time I see him, I’ll bloody that ridiculous nose.”
A bit of sun shone through the gloom hanging over Camille’s head. “You have the same nose.”
The Duchess of Camine sniffed and stuck out her chin. “But I wear it better.” She looked over at her husband. “Don’t I wear it better?”
Hamish didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” He cocked a brow at Camille, as if to say,“Care to share what the hell is going on?”
Camille eased out of Charlotte’s arms and plopped down in the chair by the window. She pulled at her high collar, not giving a fig when she heard the lace rip.
She had no more energy to even pretend manners. “I know the Duke of Lux.”
Hamish steepled his fingers, his tone dry. “I gathered.”
She massaged her temple where a sudden ticking made her head ache. “I know the duke,intimately.”
Silence.
She didn’t know what she’d expected. A gasp of surprise from her friend? A curse of outrage from her brother?
Like always, Charlotte showed the beautiful curiosity of an open and clever mind, and better still, the loyalty of a fierce friend.
“If it wasn’t consensual,” she said, “I’ve read of a scorpion with a venom that can fell a man. We can poison him without leaving a trail back to us.”
