No Good Duke Goes Unpunished (The Rules of Scoundrels #3)(115)

The confession was raw and ragged and, for a moment, he thought it might wreck him with desire and longing and love. But he had spent six years mastering his desires, six years that served him well as he shook his head and drove the knife home, uncertain of whose heart he pierced.

I love you so much, Pippa.

So very much.

But I am not worthy of you.

You deserve so much more. So much better.

“I am not an option.”

She was quiet for a long moment, and tears welled in her beautiful blue eyes—tears that did not fall. Tears she would not let fall.

And then she said precisely what he’d hoped she’d say.

What he’d hoped she wouldn’t say.

“So be it.”

Chapter Nineteen

Discovery:

Logic does not always rule the day.

The Scientific Journal of Lady Philippa Marbury

April 4, 1831; the morning of her wedding

Cross stood at the window of the owners’ suite at the Angel the next morning, watching as the maids below extinguished candles across the floor of the casino, casting hell into darkness. He often watched this work, enjoying the organized process, the way the great chandeliers were lowered to the floor, the flames extinguished, and the wax replaced in preparation for the evening’s revelry.

There was order to it. Dark followed light inside the hell even as light followed dark in the world beyond. Fundamental truths.

He placed one wide palm against the stained glass, swirling the scotch in the crystal tumbler in his hand. He’d poured the drink an hour earlier, after he’d smuggled Pippa from Knight’s and left her in Temple’s care, trusting his friend to return her home.

Knowing he would never be able to do the same.

He pressed his forehead to the cool glass, staring down into the pit, watching as Justin stacked dice in neat rows along the edge of one hazard table.

She’d saved him that evening, a veritable Boadicea, with her sharp mind and her weighted dice—his weighted dice, he imagined—and her stacked decks and magnetic roulette wheel. As though it were a simple piece of scientific research, she’d controlled the pit of Knight’s with the ease and comfort of a lifelong gamer.

And she’d done it for him.

She loved him.

Not nearly as much as he loved her, he imagined.

He closed his eyes, and a knock came at the door of the suite. He turned toward the already opening door. Chase stood in the shadowy space, and while Cross couldn’t see his partner’s eyes, he could sense the censure in them.

“You’re an idiot.”

He leaned back against the window. “It seems that way. What time is it?”

“Half eight.”

She was to marry in less than two hours. Tightness swelled in his chest.

“Temple is returned.”

Cross moved toward Chase, unable to stop himself. “Is she—”

“Preparing for a wedding to the wrong groom, I would imagine.”

Cross turned away. “She is best with Castleton.”

“That’s shit, and you know it.” When Cross did not reply, Chase continued, “But it’s irrelevant. What’s relevant is that Lady Philippa earned us a new casino tonight.”

There was nothing at all relevant about the casino. Cross cared not a bit about it. Or about the exorbitant sum he’d paid for it. “I had to get her out of there. She could have been hurt. Or worse.”

“And so you bought Knight’s debts.” Chase raised a brow. “Three hundred thousand pounds seems like a great deal of money to spend on a lower hell . . . and a woman.”

He’d have paid five times that. Ten times. “It won’t be a lower hell for long. Not in our hands.”

“We could always give it to Lady Philippa as a wedding gift,” Chase said, casually. “She appears to have a knack for running tables.”

The words stung with memory, and Cross turned away, back to the floor of the hell. “That’s precisely why she’s best with Castleton. I turned her into something dark. Something she will regret.”

“The lady does not strike me as one who makes decisions without considering their consequences.”

Cross wished Chase would leave him in peace. He tossed back the scotch, finally. “She is precisely that kind of lady.”

“And you do not think you would make her happy?”

Her words, spoken over the din of the riot the night before, echoed in his ears. I know what will make me happy—you.

It couldn’t be true.

He’d never in his life made someone happy.

He’d only ever been a disappointment.

“No.”

There was a long pause, long enough for Cross to wonder if Chase had left. When he turned to look, it was to find the founder of the Angel seated in a low chair nearby. “That’s why you’re an idiot.”

“Who’s an idiot?” Temple had arrived. Excellent.

“Cross,” Chase said, cheerfully.

“Damn right he is. After last night, I’m half in love with Pippa myself.”

He spun on the other man. “She’s Lady Philippa to you, and I’ll break any part of you that touches her.”

Temple rocked back on his heels. “If you feel that strongly about it, Cross, it strikes me that you are an idiot.”