“Because she is a lady and I am the bastard son of a ruthless merchant and a Covent Garden whore, neither of whom gave a damn about me,” he said. “And I have nothing to offer her.”
It was the bitter truth.
Undeniable.
“We are what we make of ourselves,” his brother said. “You know that. You are a fine man. Lady Evie sees that. She cares for you.”
Christ, how he wanted to believe that. The weakest part of him wanted to seize upon it with both hands. But the realistic part of him knew only one of his hands was currently in working order.
“She can’t know that after a fortnight.” He frowned at Dom.
Falling in love with Lady Adele had turned his brother into a dreamer.
“How can you make that decision for her, brother?” Dom returned.
Because hehadto, but Devil did not say that aloud. One of them had to be the voice of reason. He could not bear to watch her leave him. And so, he would thrust her away. Then, her inevitable defection would not hurt so goddamned much. A clean break, now, was what they both needed.
“This world isn’t for the likes of her,” he told Dom. “I’ll not have her resenting me, or growing to hate me for who I am the way Cora did.”
He could still recall that long-ago day when she had left him.
When she had chosen to be a mistress instead of his wife.
The pain was old, the wound long healed into a scar. But the lesson remained. Cora had claimed to love him once. Evie had not suggested such tender feelings. If anything, she seemed to view him as an object of pity.
“If you think Cora and Lady Evangeline are anything alike, you’ve nothing but air betwixt those big ears of yours,” Dom snapped, shaking Devil from his thoughts.
“I know her sort,” he said simply. “I don’t want her here.”
“Then you must tell her that for yourself.”
That was the problem, was it not? Or one of many, so it seemed. “I already have, and yet she remains.”
Dom quirked a brow. “Mayhap you ought to think about that, brother.”
Fuck.
He hated when Dom was right.
He glared at his half brother. “Mayhap,” he allowed grudgingly, too tired to argue the point any further.
“You love her,” Dom guessed.
Accurately, damn it. Devil did not know when he had realized the warmth inside his chest whenever she was near was love. That the fierce need to protect her from everyone and everything—including himself—had emerged because she owned his heart.
What a stupid twat he was. A hypocrite, believing Evie could not possibly know what she wanted after only a fortnight when that was all the time it had required for him to realize she was everything he had ever wanted but never dared to hope could be his.
She still couldn’t.
Or could she?
“Devil?” Dom prodded, intruding on his madly whirling thoughts.
“I do,” he admitted, a sense of finality washing over him, along with something else. It was tranquil and bright, like the sun after a vicious storm. “Bring her to me.”
“He has askedto see you.”
Thank God.
