Page 81 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

“I am sorry, Demon. A betrayal like that…” She squeezed. “You must remember not to blame yourself. He was the one who chose such evil; he knew he could not convince honorable men such as you and your friends to follow him, not without lying. So he lied.”

Demon stood stiffly, his hands at his side, unwilling to accept her comfort. Her uncle was the cause of all this pain, but he still didn’t feel worthy of Lady Georgia Stoughton’s reassurance.

“I confronted him. I told him I would nae longer work for him, nae longer perform treason for a wage.” He bit out the words, still bitter. “I’d betrayed everything I held dear—Queen, country, honor. I left London, returning here.”

This time she didn’t prompt him. He felt her fingers spread across his back, as if to pull him even closer.

So he took a deep breath and said the rest. “I was in my train car, already in the Lowlands. There was a noise and a masked man dressed all in black attacked me with a blade.” He sighed, finally bringing his arms up and around to hold Georgia. “I’m better—I’ve always been better, but I didnae ken who it was at the time.”

“Rourke?”

“Aye. Our supervisor had presented him with evidence that I’d turned, I’d betrayed England and her allies. So he thought he was justified.” Demon shrugged, even with his arms around her. “Of course, I just thought he was a masked assassin at the time. I sliced up his leg and threw him from the car. We were crossing a bridge at the time—I didnae plan that—and the bastard hit the water. Apparently survived.”

“When did you find out it had been your friend?”

“No’ until this summer, when Sophia came to Exingham. She used to work for Bl—for our supervisor as well and escaped London with evidence against him.” Now the sun was setting, the cold was beginning to bite at the scars on Demon’s face. “But at the time, on that train, I just thought it was an enemy. After I tossed him out I didnae have time to consider, because the damned car blew up around me.”

Heuged her around and began to hike back toward Endymion, enjoying the sounds of the forest coming to life as dusk approached. She was struggling through the snow, so he moved her back to the rut and took the deeper, more difficult path for himself.

“Demon, did you think…?”

He knew what she was asking. “Nay. I thought the assassin had planted the firebomb. But since I’d already resigned from my supervisor’s employ, I didnae see a need to bother him with details. Besides, I was half-dead.”

She was quiet for a full minute as she considered his tale. Then: “Will you tell me about your recovery? What happened, how you overcame it?”

To his surprise, the words came easily, flowing from him. Perhaps it was because he didn’t have to see her expression as Demon told her how the doctors had told him he would likely be crippled for life, and how Angus had helped him, worked with him. How the horses were what kept him going, how he pushed himself until he could climb into the saddle on his own.

He even told her of the other agents Blackrose had killed, and how the investigation had progressed. Although he didn’t use Blackrose’s name, he told Georgia of the evidence Sophia had secured, and how their old supervisor had fled, believing it destroyed. The evidence had exonerated Demon, Rourke and Thorne, and the three of them were determined to track down the bastard who had put them through hell.

Thankfully, she didn’t ask for specifics about his supervisor, but through it all, she held his hand tightly.

This woman, whose flesh and blood was responsible for all of Demon’s pain.

This woman, who’d offered herself in recompense without even knowing the crime.

This woman, who deserved so much better than him, but who seemed content here, at Endymion, with him.

Insidious spunk-nozzle! He was an arsehole!

At the front drive, Georgia tugged on his hand before they reached the steps, and he turned.

God help him, she was smiling. It was a soft smile, and there was no pity in her gaze.

“Demon, you are the most impressive, strongest man I know.”

He scoffed, but before he could crudely dismiss her words, she put her fingers to his lips.

“Listen. You did not deserve what happened to you—neither did any of the men who worked beside you. But that experience has made you stronger. You…you are worthy of happiness, Demon.”

Why couldn’t his voice seem to work? His throat was broken, like a bunglecunt’s! So he just stared at her, flabbergasted by her words.

“You are worthy,” she repeated again, trailing her gloved finger down his jawline, over the beard that grew patchy because of his scars. “I know you are happiest here at Endymion, and I can understand why. This place is lovely.”

“Cursed,” he managed to growl, and her lips twitched.

“Yes, I heard.” Without dropping her touch, Georgia twisted her head to look at the ivy they’d cut only the day before. “I was nervous about coming here, but I have fallen in love.”

His heart began to hammer inside his ribs, foolish hope warring with scorn.

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