Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners)(4)

The other reason was now standing in Bella’s drawing room, once again looking down his aristocratic nose at her.

She straightened to her full height of an inch or two over five feet. “I am sorry the dowager is unwell and likely to die. But as I have already stated, we have never liked each other. I have also been unwell myself, and do not feel up to traveling into Huntingdonshire or anywhere else.”

Huntley’s brows rose. “You are refusing my aunt’s dying request?”

Bella gave a dismissive snort. “Do not attempt to make me feel guilty when I know for a fact you are no fonder of the dowager than I am.”

No, Dante could not say that he was. He had been orphaned at the age of seven when his parents were killed in a house fire from which Dante had been rescued and they had not. His father was the younger brother of the Duke of Huntley, and his mother the younger sister of the duchess, making them the obvious guardians for the young boy.

Much as Dante had tried after he was taken into his aunt and uncle’s home, he had never been able to ascertain the slightest similarity between the two sisters. His mother had been all that was laughter and light; the duchess was a sour-faced woman who rarely smiled.

Nor had the duchess ever allowed Dante to forget he was in her home under sufferance. An act of charity on her part, out of respect for her sister and brother-in-law. Dante had always suspected that it was less a matter of respect for his parents and more a concern of what Society would think and say of Agatha St. Just if she did not take her nephew into her household. Certainly she had never shown the least affection for him.

Dante had been sent away to boarding school at the age of eight, whereas his cousin Hal had not been sent away to continue his education until he was twelve. Nor had they been sent to the same school, one going to Harrow and the other to Eton. Dante and his cousin, Hal, had also attended different universities when the time came, one going to Oxford, the other to Cambridge.

It was while at school, however, that Dante had met the other seven Sinners, all also orphans for one reason or another. The eight of them had forged a bond, become their own family, and they remained firm friends to this day.

The irony of it was he and Hal had become close friends in spite of his aunt’s machinations. They were both only children, and this separation through term time meant he and Hal had appreciated each other’s company all the more when they were both at home at Huntley Park for the holidays.

Dante shrugged. “My aunt has not made a request for my own forgiveness.”

“And she shall not receive mine,” Bella stated firmly.

“What did she do to you to arouse such animosity?”

Dark eyes flashed. “Is it not enough that she treated my mother abysmally?”

“Perhaps,” Dante allowed, knowing just how vicious his aunt’s tongue could be. “Then what of me, Bella?” he prompted quietly, once again stepping forward so that he stood but inches away from her. “Have you forgiven me?”

Those two bright spots of color reappeared in Bella’s cheeks, eyes glittering as she tilted her head back to glare at him. “I do not recall you having ever asked for my forgiveness.”

“Then I shall ask for it now.”

Again, Bella found the duke’s close proximity far too…too intrusive for comfort. Besides, she had long ago dismissed her girlish infatuation for this man. Indeed, he had killed it dead with the cutting cruelty of his words.

She continued to meet his gaze. “I did not deserve to be spoken to in the way you spoke to me that day.”

His brows lowered. “I did what I thought was for the best.”

“I was seventeen years old!”

His jaw tightened. “Exactly.”

Bella blinked. “Exactly what…?”

“You were seventeen to my eight and twenty. Moreover, you had been the stepdaughter of my cousin, and were now the ward of my aunt and uncle.”

“I fail to see why that should have allowed you to ridicule my feelings for you.”

He sighed deeply. “Possibly because they were not real but the immature emotions of an infatuated young girl who had her whole future ahead of her.”

Her mouth twisted. “And no doubt you preferred women who matched or exceeded your own reputation for sexual licentiousness?”

His nostrils flared angrily. “Do not presume to know what my emotions were then or now, Bella,” he growled.

She eyed him scornfully. “I was not aware you possessed any emotions.”

“More than you could ever know,” he assured her harshly.

“More than I wish to know,” she assured him.

“Besides which,” Dante continued, “you could not have been so much in love with me when you eloped with Aston only weeks later.”

“I believe I might have eloped with the devil himself if it meant I could escape the guardianship of Agatha St. Just. Instead of which,” she said warmly, “I was fortunate enough to marry the sweetest, most considerate husband in the world.”

“You were in love with your husband?”

Perhaps not at first, but certainly later. “I was.” She nodded.

Huntley reached out to grasp the tops of her arms. “How fickle the female heart is, to be sure.”

It was both pain and pleasure to have Dante’s hands upon her for the first time.