Page 159 of Pride: The Rogue
He tried again, with minimal success. “Your…”
“Sister.”
Latimer’s mind raced. All knew the Earl of Wakefield had but two sisters, one married to the Duke of Banbridge, the other the Earl of Stanhope, and—
“The previous Earl of Wakefield sired Livian,” Latimer said on an exhalation.
A muscle in the other man’s jaw worked.
Still reeling from his discovery, Latimer recounted in his mind everything Livian had revealed about her journey.
Her need for a husband. The desire to avoid being a needy relation.
All along, there’d been a wealthy caregiver.
Latimer followed the path Wakefield took to his tidy, well-stocked sideboard.
Fury sent his fingers curling into tight fists. “You could have easily seen Livian was comfortable and cared for,” Latimer snapped, his ire climbing. “You could have set her up somewhere. Instead—”
“Oh, please, spare me your indignation,” the earl interrupted, fetching a decanter and glass.
Wakefield didn’t even bother turning as he made himself a drink. Liquid hit the earl’s glass. “I believed her marrying some lord was a horrible idea.”
Latimer tensed.
The earl paused his pour. “Not because I believe Miss Lovelace to be inferior. She isn’t. There’s nothing noble about a nobleman,” he said.
Brandy in hand, Wakefield turned and dropped a hip on the corner of the Chippendale sideboard. “But then,” he drawled. “there’s nothing really noble about men, in general, eh?” He sharpened a deservingly disdainful look on Latimer.
A flush heated Latimer’s neck. “I deserve that.”
Wakefield took a swallow of his spirits. “No, you deserve a bullet.”
“Aye,” he said, under his breath. “And far worse.” Latimer should be drawn and quartered for how he’d treated Livian.
Wakefield toasted him. “On that, we can agree.”
Agony cleaved at his insides. Latimer dragged a shaky hand through his hair.
He’d taken her innocence. Yes, she’d freely given herself to him and asked him to bed her, but she’d been an innocent lady in every meaning of the word.
Even now she could be carrying his child and never once had he told her how much she meant to him.
A peculiar blend of grief and longing brought his eyes weighted closed.
I want that. I want to see Livian big with our babe and spend my life making her and that innocent daughter with Livian’s enormous eyes and big blonde curls, smile.
His throat worked. “Where is she?”
“I escorted her to the Earl and Countess of Maxwell’s country seat.”
Of course. It would be the last but only place she could truly turn.
Not anymore.
I am her future. I am her pillar, as she is mine.
That is if she will allow me to share a life with her.
