He was not a father. Not a husband. Not someone eligible or suitable. Not a lord. Not a nice man. Hell, often, he was not the best of brothers, and he loved his family more than he loved anything, even gaming, charming, and twisting the people around him until they were in the palm of his hand. And that was saying something. The only reason he was helping Gen run Lady Fortune was because he had hoped he might bed some of the ladies who came to spend all their pin money, and that was the truth.
Until one lady in particular.
But he would not remain in her thrall for long. Demon had no doubt. This was a temporary spell. Soon enough, they would both move on.
Damnation.Why did the notion make him so bloody sad?
Demon made his way through the dimly lit halls to the rear entrance of Lady Fortune where tradesmen made their deliveries. He thrust open the door, blinking at the surprisingly bright sunlight. That was the thing about gaming hells he had always admired—you never knew what time of day it was or what the world was like beyond the heavy curtains. Gaming hells were places of chance, wagering, games, and drink. Sometimes wenches as well.
The crates of Madeira were awaiting him, but Hugo, the merchant, was nowhere to be found. What the devil?
“Hugo?” he called, casting a glance around the alley.
He spied a pair of boots first, sticking out from beneath the merchant’s cart. Then legs.
Alarm shot through him.
Pain thundered down upon his head.
The world went black.
* * *
“A crash sounded.All the hounds began to bark, racing for the source of the interruption,” Joanna read to the drawing room.
“What manner of crash was it?” Gideon demanded.
Mirabel sighed, and was about to remind her youngest son to hold his tongue whilst his sister was sharing the story she had been so dutifully penning, when Percy stepped in.
“Hush, Gid,” he chided, quite stepping into the role of oldest sibling these days. “Joanna is reading, and you must allow her to have her turn.”
Her mouth snapped closed. Before her was cruel evidence of how quickly her children were growing. No longer babes who needed her tender embraces or handkerchief to dry their tears. Indeed, there would be no more babes to hold in her arms. No more first steps or first words.
Why did the thought bring with it such a ludicrous pang of longing? She had three children she loved, and she now had her freedom as well. What more could she ask for?
Him.
But she would not think of Damian Winter now. Nor would she contemplate the risks she had taken when she had allowed him to spend within her. But two mistakes would not matter, surely? She would be more careful next time. She would make certain there could be no recriminations.
And she would be wiser. Though an unwanted voice reminded her that if she were truly wise, there would notbea next time.
“Do you not agree, Mama?”
Percy’s voice cut through her frantic, troubled thoughts, making her jump in her seat. She jerked her attention back to her children, guilt searing her for being so beset by distraction. Her children deserved all her attention.
Mirabel sighed. “Yes, of course I agree. Gideon, you must not interrupt your sister.”
“I was only wanting to know what sort of crash it was. She did not say.” Gideon shrugged.
Percy rolled his eyes heavenward, as if exasperated. “Mayhap she was about to, before you began chirping like a sparrow with your endless litany of questions.”
“I’m not a sparrow!” Gideon, forever sensitive about being the youngest, puffed up his chest. “Did you know the reed sparrow doesn’t sing? What is a litany?”
“A repetition,” Mirabel explained gently. “Your curiosity is commendable, Gideon, but it can be tiresome, particularly when you are not exhibiting good manners.”
“Was it a clang, as in swords clashing? What if it was a lion roaring? Can lions eat people?” Gideon continued, undeterred.
Joanna huffed. “May I finish my story?”
