The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(92)

“Isabelle, what I do here, what I’ve done, serves a purpose. I’m not perfect, and I’ve never claimed so. But there are many gentlemen who look to me for support—more than those in that room. There are businesses that are able to operate because of my influence.”

“Brothels and gaming hells?” she asked, looking up at him. “Those sorts of businesses? Or are you referring to the ones you burn to the ground?”

“The fire was an accident. That never should have happened.”

“But you knew about it,” she countered, taking a step beyond his reach. “You were involved in it. Yet you said nothing to me. You comforted me after it happened. I thought…I thought you were my friend.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

“I am your friend, more than that, Isabelle. Everything we’ve shared, the time we’ve spent together…this has been the best time of my life.” The look in his eyes was one of complete honesty. If only she could believe him. “I want it to go on without end, just as I said last night.”

“And I would live here with you while you cavort with multiple ladies at a brothel and take the profits of gaming hells?” She took another step away from him. “No. I promised myself long ago that I would find love with an honorable, kindhearted gentleman. I wanted him to be many things, but most of all I wanted him to be good. You knew that. You lied to me. You… I was wrong about you, so terribly wrong. I was wrong about everything.”

He took a step toward her and reached out his hand before it fell back to his side again. “I know this has all come as quite the shock. I understand why you can’t accept the life I lead. I should have told you long ago, but I didn’t know how. I knew how difficult this would be for you.”

“So you allowed me to believe lies? This isn’t some story in a book or pretty setting in a painting, this is my life. I gave you my heart, my body, everything.” She exhaled a ragged breath. “I don’t even know you. Who are you, Fallon?”

“I’m the second son of a perpetually drunk lord, the former caregiver of an elderly lady, and the current head of a secret organization that I founded for the betterment of other gentlemen like me.”

“Ha! You make yourself sound quite honorable. If I hadn’t just heard a discussion of your involvement in various sorts of crime within the walls of your own library, I might believe you.” She stared at him, and she looked into the eyes of a stranger. And after all they’d shared, to not know him now broke her heart.

“I’ll earn your trust back, Isabelle. Ask me anything.” He closed the gap between them, the look in his eyes one of desperation. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Have you beaten a man to the ground?” she asked, her throat tightening around the words.

“Yes, many times.”

“Have you killed a man?”

“I’ve seen it happen, even ordered it twice.”

She winced but continued. “Have you broken into a place where you didn’t belong?”

“Quite often.”

“Have you ever stolen anything that didn’t belong to you?”

“Yes.”

She began to shake and drew her arms tighter over her chest to hold herself still. “Did you steal my family’s art and then convince me it was another man?”

“No!” he said, drawing back in surprise. “I would never do that.”

“You just admitted to stealing, breaking into a place where you have no claim, and hurting people.”

“I know what that artwork means to you, and I’ve had my men searching the city to return the pieces you lost.”

“Why should I believe you? You’re a bad man, a villain.”

Fallon didn’t reply.

“I cared for you. I wanted…” She wanted to marry him. She loved him. But this was too much to bear. He wasn’t the man she thought him to be. She’d made herself a promise long ago that she wouldn’t have a loveless marriage like her parents had. She would find a good man who cared for her. And foolish as she was, she’d thought…

The door beside them opened, and the drawing room he’d kept her from seeing yesterday came into view as two gentlemen walked past them to the front door. Inside there were more men playing billiards and swilling drink. This was a gentlemen’s club. He used his home as a gentlemen’s club, and he profited from crime. And he’d kept her from this discovery yesterday, just before he’d, before they’d… “Secrets,” she muttered. The floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet as this last great wave of truth crashed over her and everything she thought she knew slid to shatter on the floor at her feet. He’d held back who he was until after he’d gotten what he wanted from her, and she’d fallen for it.

“I never meant to hurt you, Isabelle,” he said, accurately reading the devastation in her eyes.

“Then why am I hurt?” she asked him, but he gave no defense of his actions.

Turning, she took slow paces toward the front door. The tears she’d pushed back for the past few minutes threatened to fall now.

Surely he would stop her. He would somehow explain that all of this had been practice for some grand play. None of this was real.

But it was real. And he didn’t say a word to stop her as she walked out of his life.