Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(78)

It had been inevitable. At last, the guilt threatened to consume him. He tossed his pen down and flipped through the pages of the loyal, leather volume. Auric skimmed the pages containing his lists of suitors for Daisy, all men he hated just for having been hypothetically marked as a husband to her. He continued turning the pages and then froze. His gut clenched and he stuck his finger in the middle of the page.

I killed her brother. Those four words inked in black stared damningly up at him and he fixed on them so intently, the marks upon the page blurred before him.

There were a million reasons he shouldn’t have wed her, but the sheet needn’t have had any further reasons beyond the one. He turned the page over and studied the other letters he’d written.

Dear Lionel,

I promise to wed her. Because she has long been neglected and uncared for. I know she requires protection. And also, how very lonely and sad her life is.

Odd, when he’d jotted down all the reasons to wed Daisy, in his ducal haughtiness, he’d thought of her in terms of a responsibility, denying the very real and very obvious truth—he loved her. Those words belonged on this useless sheet he’d hastily put together at Wessex’s insistence.

With a curse, Auric quickly turned the pages over and over, frantically reading, and then at last settling on the accusatory words penned in his own hand—I killed her brother. Had the reasons to wed Daisy outweighed the role he’d played in Lionel’s death?

Guilt bunched and twisted inside his stomach and he stared blankly down at the damning admission. He’d owed her the truth. Not after their marriage, but rather before, when it would have been her decision as to whether she could set aside the crimes of his youth, forgive him, and love him, even as he was undeserving of that love. He’d clung to the fleeting moment of madness in which he’d assumed what had come to pass in the Seven Dials could remain buried.

When the morning had come, he should have risen and shared every dark, sordid detail of that night with her. For even though she was a lady, as Lionel’s sister, and more, Auric’s wife and friend, he owed her the truth. Instead, he’d rushed from her bed, leaving her snoring, curled in a contented ball, and sought to put some distance between them.

He set the journal down on the corner of his desk and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Wessex had maintained that Auric hadn’t been to blame. He, however, knew the truth. Yet, when she’d been simply Daisy, Lionel’s younger sister, sharing details that would ultimately shatter her heart had never been something he’d intended. All these years, he’d seen her as no more than a responsibility, a debt to be paid, an obligation owed to his closest friend. Nor was the truth fit for a young lady’s ears. He shoved back his chair with such force it scraped along the wood floor. Restless, he climbed to his feet and stalked over to the empty hearth. He stared down into the cold, dark grate.

Everything had changed so swiftly he’d not allowed himself to consider the ramifications in loving her or worse, in marrying her. He’d demonstrated the same self-centeredness that had driven him, a then bored, young student in university to a seedy hell no decent or indecent person belonged. Auric reached into the front of his jacket and withdrew the quizzing glass he carried close to his heart. He held the delicate piece in his palm, the cool metal etched in daisies from that day he’d ceased to see the world in shades of gold and seen only Daisy—forever Daisy.

“There you are.”

Her soft contralto froze him where he stood. There was a shyness, a hesitancy, in her tone that he’d never known of her, but then, weren’t there so many pieces of each other both didn’t know?

Auric schooled his features and turned around. “Daisy,” he greeted, tucking the quizzing glass into its familiar place beside his heart. She hovered in the doorway, holding her embroidery frame close to her chest. He sketched a bow.

A little frown marred her full lips. Lips that drew forth all manner of wicked memories of how she’d felt in his arms, and how he longed to bury himself in her once again and… “Did you just bow?”

Her words were eerily reminiscent of that night not too long ago inside Lady Harrison’s ballroom.

“Yes, a bow.” He quirked an eyebrow. “A general expression practiced upon a polite greeting.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave her shoulders and she wandered deeper into the room, coming to a stop several steps away. “Ah, yes. The ever important bow usually preceded by a polite curtsy.”

Thick and prolonged silence fell between them. They’d never been without words—until now. He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “I trust you slept w—?”

“Oh, yes, very well,” she hastily interrupted and then her cheeks blazed red. “And did you—?”

“Also well.” Auric folded his hands behind his back and rocked forward on the balls of his feet.

They both went quiet, once more.

Daisy lowered her arms to her side and beat her embroidery frame against her leg. “You weren’t there,” she blurted. “This morning, when I arose, and then I’d expected you’d break your fast with me, that is…because it is afternoon and you’ve surely already broken your fast and…” She clamped her lips into a line.

She wanted to know why he’d left her—again. Tell her. Tell her all the truths and mistruths between you. Surely, she could forgive him.