Daring and the Duke (The Bareknuckle Bastards #3)(104)

Whit shook his head. “We’ve never been able to predict his movements.”

A long silence, and Devil tapped his cane. Once. Twice. “Grace has.”

She did not like the truth in the words, not as it was twined with the truth in her heart. The keen memory of him walking away—a new man. Changed, just as she was.

Forever.

She knew what he would do. It was over. “He’s going to leave,” she said, the ache in her chest nearly unbearable. “He’s going to leave, and he’s never going to come back.”

The irony was, he’d finally done what she told him she wanted.

And now, all she wished was for him to come back and stay.

“He’s already left,” Devil said.

The words struck like a slap. “How do you know that?”

“Because we’ve been having him followed since he returned.”

She shot him a look. “Why?”

“Well, first of all”—he turned and sat on the high ledge of the roof—“every time he’s turned up in the past . . . how long?” He looked to Whit to fill the time frame.

“Forever,” Whit supplied with a shrug.

“Right. Every time he’s turned up forever, he’s tried to kill one of us.” He paused, then added, “You were the first one of us he tried to kill, I might add. But here we are—life is a strange, mysterious thing.”

“He didn’t try to kill me,” she said.

Everything stilled on that rooftop—even the cold autumn wind seemed to pause to let the words seep in.

“How do you know?” Devil said.

“Because he told me,” she said. “The old duke wanted me dead.”

“Because you were proof of what he’d done.”

She nodded.

“Not just that,” Whit said. “He wanted you dead because he knew he’d never have all of Ewan if Ewan had any hope of having you.”

Whit, always seeing what no one else did.

“Yes,” she said. “But he never would have hurt me.”

“We all saw it, though,” Whit replied. “We all saw him come for you.”

“No.” This time it was Devil who interrupted. “He didn’t come for her. He came for me. I always wondered why he looked me dead in the eye beforehand. I thought it was because he wanted the fight.”

“He did,” Grace said. “He wanted the fight with you, to give us all time to run.”

Silence fell between them as they were all lost to the memory of that fateful night, when everything that had happened had somehow not happened at all.

“Christ.” Whit was the first to speak. “He gave himself over to Marwick. To keep us safe.”

“The old man had to have known where we’d gone,” Devil said.

He knew where you were, Ewan had told her, but he’d never told me.

Grace nodded. “We were young and scared and no doubt left a dozen signposts along the way. But he never came for us.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t threaten it,” Devil said, understanding the manipulation instantly. How had they not seen what their evil father would have been willing to do? “God knows he’d used each of our safety to keep the others in line a thousand times before.”

“And my safety, most of all,” she said.

“Mmm,” Whit agreed. “And no one was more susceptible to threats against Grace than Ewan.”

Devil’s cane tapped against the roof in an even, pensive rhythm. “Fuck,” he finally whispered, awe in his tone. “He gave you up. Into our keeping. No wonder he was ready to blow up half of London when he thought we’d let you die.”

“He gave up everything,” she said, to herself as much as to them.

The brothers he’d just found.

Her.

I loved you the moment I set eyes on you a lifetime ago, but what that was—it pales in comparison to how I love you now.

“He gave us each other,” she said, watching the rooftops.

For twenty years, she’d traversed this city from up on high, believing that the rooftops were the place she’d stolen from him. Claimed for herself. But they weren’t stolen. They’d been gifted. He’d given her this place.

“All those years, we thought he chose the title over us,” Whit said. “When he actually chose the title for us. It was a sacrifice for us.”

“Not for us,” Devil said. “For Grace.”

He’d come to them for penance weeks ago. Vowed to make amends. When in actual fact, Ewan had been paying penance for twenty years.

“You said he left.” Grace looked to Devil, tears in her eyes. “Where did he go?”

“Northeast.” Toward Essex.

Back to the estate. To that place they all loathed, because it had stolen so much from them. And from him most of all. The answer made her want to scream. Instead, she came to her feet, looking from one of her brothers to the other. “He shouldn’t be there.”

“He’s Duke of Marwick; where else should he be?” Devil asked.

Anywhere else. “He hates the title. Hates the house. It destroyed him,” she said. “That place that was his ruin as much as it was ours.”

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