Page 43 of Dance with the Dragon Duke

“Really?” Tomorrow’s mouth quirked. “He surprised me too. Before his will was read, I could count on one hand the number of times I saw him.”

The earl crossed one leg over the other, casting his gaze thoughtfully up toward the ceiling. “He was an interesting man. Strong, competitive, intelligent. Secretive. He liked to play his cards close to his chest, if you get my meaning.”

“Why do you think he chose you?” Tomorrow asked, her white brows pinched together.

“His solicitor solved that mystery for me, actually. When he brought the news, he said the former duke had selected me because I was ‘the best father he knew’. The late duke knew a great many things, but how to be a father wasn’t one of them. I think he hoped I’d fill in and do right by you, and at that I am trying, truly. It’s the reason why I told you I wanted a goodmatch for you. And that I’d be watching closely as any father would.”

Tomorrow sighed. “I bet it never occurred to him the danger he’d put me in . . .” Her chin lowered and her voice dropped. “My lord—Bjorn—you had words the other morning with Glen Freest. My cousin.”

“Ah.” The earl uncrossed his legs and leaned over to make use of the ashtray, tapping spent tobacco against the glass rim. “I took some liberties Lord Freest is not happy about, or I should say, he thinks I took some liberties.”

“What liberties?” Dark asked. Mention of Glen had him digging his fingers into the arm of his seat so hard his thick nails threatened to tear the leather.

“My son-in-law, the Bargainer, has a talent for . . . what’s the polite term for it? A talent forplotting, let’s say. After you fell ill, rumors slowly reached me that you’d named your cousin as the one responsible—”

“He did it,” Tomorrow said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “He poisoned me, my lord.”

“That was my fear,” Bjorn said somberly. His fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on his lap. “With the Bargainer’s help, I’ve fooled the Freest family into believing a clause has been added to your father’s will, one that states that, should any harm befall you, should you die suspiciously, for example, the duchy shall go to the crown at my discretion, not to the next of kin.”

Tomorrow’s eyes went big and round. “No wonder Glen was so angry the other morning.”

“That was smart work, Bjorn,” Dark said.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Bjorn said. “I added the clause, but it’s been made clear to me that it wouldn’t stand up to the scrutiny of court. Your father didn’t actually give me the authority to invent clauses, you see. It’s good that you’ve found each other. It’s even better that you’re moving quickly. Iencourage you both to press forward before any Freest examines those documents and discovers this for themselves.”

“Thank you all the same,” Tomorrow said, her voice small. “Your attempt to help means a great deal, even if it may only slow them down a little while longer.”

In the carriage on the way home, Dark watched Tomorrow out of the corner of his eye. She read over the document Bjorn had created for her. Her forehead wrinkled and her lips were pinched.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not for the first time. The first time, all he’d gotten as a response was grumbled syllables. Dragons were not known for their patience, but he was doing his best, gripping the cushioned seat beneath him so hard his nails sprung short claws.

Tomorrow set the papers down forcefully. “There just aren’t as many liquid assets as there were before I took ill. And two of the properties are completely upside down now. Bjorn has done the safe thing, spending resources as needed to keep others afloat as I asked him too, but . . .” With a sigh, her fingers wrinkled the pages. “When I imagined finally claiming my duchy, the very first thing I wanted to do was purchase the orchards my gran lost.”

“Thankfully, you’re immortal and so is your gran,” Dark reminded her. “Plenty of time to fix what’s broken, turn a profit, and get back what’s hers. With time, you could give her evenmorethan she’s lost. She’ll understand.”

Tomorrow’s smile was brittle, and whatever she was about to say, he watched her swallow those words, delicate muscles bobbing in her throat.

“What is it?” Dark demanded as gently as he could, but the words came out half-growl. “Hang it all, Sunshine, say what you were about to say.”

Tomorrow shook her head, jerking the quilt up around her lap, over his winding tail. “It’s just . . . My gran spent her last coin doing everything she could to get me on my feet again, to get me out of that dratted sickbed. Centuries of hard work gone in less than a year, all forme. It’s only fair that I return what’s she’s lost as quickly as possible. Before Glen wins.”

“We’ll have an engagement agreement in a fortnight. Glen isn’t going to . . .” Dark’s voice trailed away.

Get me on my feet again, she’d said. That string of words echoed in his head, and his next thought stuck in his throat. She’d said that before when she’d spoken of tonics, spells, prolonged illness, but she never spoke of beinghealed.

I don’t know how much time I’ve got—those were her words the night they’d met. He’d assumed she was worried about future attempts on her life, but what if she was referring to apastattempt.

The first one.

His hands were moving before realization fully dawned, as though his muscles had interpreted the truth of things and his mind was still catching up. He bundled her into his lap, his hand roughly stroking her cheek, making her meet his eyes.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice breaking, “are you dying?”

She exhaled, sharp and quick. He felt the puff of breath against his lips, and then her mouth trembled. “Oh Dark, please understand that I never meant to mislead you. I never meant to tell you half-truths. It’s just that I’m having such a hard time coming to terms with it all myself. Saying it out loud makes it more real than I can stand, and I don’twantto die, you see?”

Dark’s eyes burned and welled until she was a pale blur before him. He blinked to clear his vision, and a tear broke free, slicking down his cheek, catching in his stubble. The sweet and silly peace he’d been chasing since they’d met, the hope he saw in her—it was shrinking away from him, slipping out of his grasp.

“How much time do you have?” Misery shrank his voice.

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