Page 84 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“I still must eat.” Had she claimed she was always honest with herself? “I don’t know if I can give it up. I thrive on the challenge of it.” Reaching up, she brushed the hair back from his brow. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Life has other challenges you could embrace.”
“But none would give me the freedom to live on my own terms, worrying only about my own whims and fancies.” She swallowed hard, forcing the words past her tightening throat. “I’ve spent a little over a quarter of a century caring for Harry.” She licked her lips, swallowed again, pushed back the tears. “I don’t resent it.”
Abruptly she sat up, barely aware of knocking her shoulder against his chin. “I don’t,” she insisted again. “But sometimes I yearn to be beholden to no one, to only have to think about me. My wants, my needs, my dreams. I’ll part ways with Merrick and the others. I’m selfish, terribly, terribly selfish. I want no children, no husband, no one claiming me. I want to answer only to myself.”
Avendale pushed himself up and, with his thumb, he wiped from her cheek a tear she didn’t realize had escaped. “Yet you agreed to answer to me.”
She traced her fingers over his face, noting the deep lines that a man of his age should not yet possess. “So I did.”
“And you’ll keep to it, because of Harry.”
More so because of Avendale, but she could not give him that power over her. Self-preservation forced her to let him believe his words were true. “I’ll keep to it.”
“Even though you’re not in the habit of paying your debts?”
“This one I’ll keep.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“You must believe me or we wouldn’t be here now.”
“I’m sure you’ll stay with me as long as Harry breathes. After that, I think you’ll take off the moment my back is turned.”
“Then why are you doing all this?”
“Because I enjoy watching you smile.”
The words devastated her. Why did he have to be so good when she was so rotten? “I will not break my promise to you.” She meant the words, intended to keep them—if she could. Always there was that caveat. Always the words could prove false.
“How did you learn to lie so well?” he asked.
“I’m not lying.”
His scrutiny was almost a physical caress. It took everything within her not to look away.
“I should hope not,” he finally said, and she was able to slowly release the breath she’d been holding. “But I find it difficult to believe you learned everything from your father.”
She smiled. “You’re right on that score. I learned some skills from a fortune-teller. Elise. She was part of the traveling ménage of oddities. Claimed to be a Gypsy. I don’t know if that’s true. But she had black hair and black eyes. When she looked at you, it felt like she saw into your soul.”
“Did she ever tell you your fortune?”
“At least once a week. I was fascinated by the ritual of it. From her I learned the importance of setting the scene. With her scarves and flickering candles and whispers, I could not help but believe she could see my future.”
“What did she predict for you?”
“It was always a variation of the same: before I see thirty years, I will lose what I treasure.”
“Harry.”
“I don’t see that it could be anything else.”
“When do you turn thirty?”
“In two months.” She took a deep breath. “So yes, I have considered what my life would be after I’m thirty. And you, Your Grace, what do you see in your future?”
“An upstanding wife who can bring respectability to me and the family name. A lady whom Society will view with reverence for bringing me to heel.”
