The Heart of a Duke(84)

Daniel held up his hands in a helpless gesture, and then let them drop. “I did not know if I should tell you, but I thought . . . I believed you had a right to know.”

“Of course you should have told me,” she insisted, his words snapping her back to the moment. “For goodness’ sake, I was engaged to the man for five years. I almost married him,” she said, a shudder seizing her.

“Good thing I ruined you.” At her chastising look, he became defensive. “Well, it is the only bit of good news.”

She sighed. “It is a novelty. Few women should feel gratitude for being ruined, but I am grateful.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said and grinned.

Her eyes met his and the warmth in his expression was her undoing. Particularly after their evening in the library. She tore her gaze away and swept to her feet. She couldn’t think about that now. Not after what he had told her. “But why?”

Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I do not know. I have racked my brains trying to understand. But I cannot.”

“To hate with such passion,” she murmured, remembering the vitriol in Edmund’s expression, but also remembering his charm. The two faces of Janus. Beautiful Bedford and the Damn Duke. She shuddered. Another thought struck her. “You have known since yesterday. You have known and you did not tell me. You were not planning to.” She voiced the most damning accusation of all. “You do not trust me.”

He tossed her an impatient look, but seeing her pained expression, relented. “This isn’t about trust. Look, I wrestled with this all night. For God’s sake, Julia, he is my brother, but he is also a duke, one of the highest-ranking peers of the realm. I have nothing but the word of a petty, two-bit poacher who can be bribed with twopence. But I know he speaks true. I know my brother,” he said emphatically.

“And I believe you,” she said, calmly. “Or rather, Weasel.”

Her words appeared to strip the wind from his anger. “You do?”

“I do. In the future, you have to trust in me to do so, or . . .”

“Or you will not marry me?” He looked rueful.

“Well, it wouldn’t bode well for our marriage if you intend to keep things from me. If you think I cannot be trusted—”

“I told you, this isn’t about trust—”

“Then what is it about?”

“Fear,” he exclaimed, tossing his hands up, his expression incredulous, as if he could not believe she didn’t understand. “I am afraid. For you. For me. Some might call that cowardly to admit it, but I think it is smart because it makes me cautious. As a duke, Edmund has unlimited resources at his disposal. They allow him to carry out whatever nefarious schemes he damn well pleases. And it pleases him or it would please him to see me dead and buried. I should be afraid and so should you. You need to return to Taunton Court. To get as far away from me as possible. It is not safe here with me.”

“Me?” she cried, her voice rising to match his. “No one wants me dead. You are the one gallivanting about town, a hair’s breadth away from getting killed.” Her voice choked and she spun away, mortified at her loss of composure.

Silence fell.

“Julia.” His tone was soft, apologetic. He curled his hands over her shoulders, gently turning her to face him.

She tried to resist, tears blurring her eyes. He persisted until she was enfolded in his arms. Undone, she hugged his waist. She needed the touch, the warmth, and the comfort. She needed him. Her cheek rested against his heart, and the steady beat calmed her.

“My fearless warrior.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Not so fearless.”

“Well, this is another novel situation. You and I seem to be making a habit of tangling ourselves in them.”

“Yes,” she sniffed, half laughing, half choking. “Perhaps we should stop.”

“I agree. Why don’t you go home with your father until I—”

She stumbled back. “No, absolutely not.” If he was staying, so was she. Someone had to look after him. She crossed her arms. “You forget, we are not married—yet—so you cannot dictate my actions. I have not said yes, and at this rate, I will not be doing so if you think that I am going to run away and hide in the country while you stay here, risking your worthless hide.”

“Julia, this is not some business venture.” He frowned, his expression one of strained patience. “Worthless?”

“It will be if you are tossed into the Thames, or riddled with bullets or—” She cursed her voice for cracking again.

He swore and raked his hands through his hair. “I cannot risk your life. I cannot do it, and I will not.”