No Good Duke Goes Unpunished (The Rules of Scoundrels #3)(63)

But he did not have the opportunity to say any of them. His sister spoke the instant the lock clicked, as though she had nothing in the world about which to worry but that single calm, clear sentence.

“Lavinia—” he began, but she cut him off, her serious brown gaze unwavering.

“I am not here to discuss it,” she said, the words like steel. “I came from Knight’s, and he refused to see me. Because of you.”

Ire flared. “As well it should be. You should never have gone to him. And if he knows what’s best for him, he’ll never see you again.”

She looked tired—pale and thin and uncomfortable, with dark circles beneath her eyes and hollow cheeks, as though she had not slept or eaten in days. But it had been more than days that had made her this way—that had stolen the bright-eyed, happy seventeen-year-old girl and left behind this stoic twenty-four-year-old woman who seemed years older and decades wiser.

Too wise. She did not back down. “This is none of your concern.”

“Of course it is my concern. You’re my sister.”

“You think that the pronouncement of the words makes them true?”

He moved toward her, hesitating when she pressed back, clasping the edge of his desk as though she could gain strength from the great slab of ebony. “There is no making about it. They are true.”

Her lips twisted in a bitter, humorless smile. “How simple you make it seem. As though you have done nothing wrong. As though we are all expected to forget that you deserted us. As though we are expected to pretend that all is well, and nothing has changed. As though we are to slaughter the fatted calf and welcome you back into our lives—our prodigal son.”

The words stung, even as Cross reminded himself that Lavinia had been so young when Baine had died. Seventeen and barely out, she’d been too focused on her own pain and her own tragedy to see the truth of what had happened. To see that Cross had had no choice but to leave the family.

To see that he’d been pushed out.

To see that they would have never forgiven him. That, in their eyes, he would never have been good enough, strong enough, Baine enough.

Not only in their eyes. His as well.

He did not correct her—did not tell her. Instead, he let the words sting. Because he deserved them. Still.

He always would.

When he did not reply, his sister added, “I have come to tell you that whatever arrangement you have made, whatever deals you have struck with Mr. Knight—I don’t want them. I want you to rescind them. I shall take responsibility for my family.”

The words made him angry. “You should not have to take responsibility. You have a husband. This is his purpose. His role. It is he who should be protecting his children’s futures. His wife’s reputation.”

Her brown eyes flashed. “That is none of your concern.”

“It is if you require protecting, and he cannot provide it.”

“Now you play the expert in familial protection? The perfect older brother? Now, after seven years of desertion? After seven years of invisibility? Where were you when they married me to Dunblade to begin with?”

He’d been counting cards in some casino, trying to pretend he did not know where his sister was. What she was doing. Who she was marrying. Why. Ironically, that casino had likely been Knight’s. “Lavinia,” he tried to explain, “so much happened when Baine died. So much you don’t know.”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “You still think me a little girl. You think I don’t know? You think I don’t remember that night? Need I remind you that I was there? Not you. Me. I am the one who carries the scars. The memory of it. I carry it with me every day. And somehow, it is you who has taken ownership of the evening.”

She shifted, and he noticed the flash of discomfort on her face as she leaned into her finely wrought cane. He moved to a nearby chair, lifting a stack of books from its seat. “Please. Sit.”

She stiffened, and when she spoke, the words were like ice. “I am quite able to stand. I may be lame, but I am not crippled.”

Goddammit. Could he do nothing right? “I never meant—Of course you are able to stand. I simply thought you would be more comfortable—”

“I don’t require you to make me comfortable or to make my life easier. I require you to stay out of my life. I came to tell you that. And to tell you that I will not allow you to involve yourself with Knight on my behalf.”

Anger flared, and frustration. “I am afraid the decision is out of your hands. I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself to Knight. Not when I can help it.”

“It’s not your place to step in.”

“It is precisely my place. Like it or not, this is my world, and you are my sister.” He paused, hesitating on the next words, not wanting to say them, but knowing he owed them to her. “Knight came after you to get to me.”

Her brows snapped together. “I beg your pardon?”

He hated himself in that moment, almost as much as he hated the look in her eyes, suspicion and disbelief. “He wants me, Lavinia. Not you. Not Dunblade. He knew that threatening you would be the fastest way to get what he wants from me.”

“Why would he think that?” she scoffed. “You’ve never given a moment’s thought to us.”

The words stung. “That’s not true.”