Page 39 of The Duke of Lies
He looked away as a bit of color flashed briefly across his cheekbones. She might have attributed it to anger if he were the old Rufus. But this looked more like embarrassment.
“I must apologize profusely for my behavior…before.” He looked back at her, his eyes brilliant with candor. “I can’t make you forget, but please know that I’ve worked very hard to. In fact, I’ve done such a thorough job of it that I sometimes struggle to remember things.”
Or you aren’t actually Rufus.
That voice in the back of her mind was growing stronger despite her desire to silence it—at least for now. Some day soon, she might not be able to ignore it any longer. However, for now, she was content to keep things as they were, particularly given his devotion to Beau and to taking care of the estate. Which included getting to the bottom of Cuddy’s theft.
“Do you think my father was involved with Cuddy’s embezzlement?” Verity asked.
“I don’t know. I only want to learn as much as I can about Cuddy.”
“Should we invite my father here?” She couldn’t think of anyone she wanted to invite less.
Rufus arched a sandy brow at her. “You don’t sound as if you want to.”
“We don’t have a very good relationship, but perhaps you remember that.” Apparently, shewasgoing to play that game tonight, for she’d decided to push him, to see what he might reveal.
“Vaguely,” he said, shifting his gaze to the hearth. “I’m sorry you aren’t close.”
She wanted to push a little harder. “Really? It never bothered you before. You and my father were quite close. I would even say he preferred you to me, despite only knowing you a handful of months.”
Registering the flare of his nostrils and the slight widening of his eyes, she suffered a moment’s panic. She’d overstepped. Was now the moment she’d feared? Would he finally reveal the anger he’d kept buried since he’d returned?
“I’m… I don’t know what to say.” He took a long drink of whiskey, nearly draining the glass. He fixed his gaze on hers with piercing intent. “I know I keep saying this, but I’m not the man I was before. I can’t change the past, but I swear that I only want the safety and security of you, Beau, and everyone at Beaumont Tower. I’ll make sure your father doesn’t meddle. You have my word on it.”
His word. Rufus’s word had meant nothing. But this man’s word—and she was more sure than ever that he was someone else—was something quite different. Rufus would have defended her father. No, he would have gone further than that.
She took a deep gulp of sherry to calm the anxiety that started to swirl in her gut. Would she ever be able to think of him—of the man she’d married—without feeling powerless and afraid?
Maybe if she knew this man—the man she hadn’t married—would keep her safe. Which he could if she’d allow it. Or maybe that wasn’t even necessary. He didn’t seem to require her permission. He would give her his protection whether she wanted it or not.
Warmth spread through her, and she was quick to credit her sherry instead of the man sitting nearby.
“Will you tell the authorities about Cuddy?” she asked.
“If I must, but first I’ll give him the chance to return what he stole.”
“That has to be quite a bit over six and a half years. Will he be able to do that?”
Rufus shrugged, and his eyes took on a frosty sheen that made her shiver. “I don’t care. He’ll pay one way or another.” He finished his whiskey and redirected his attention to the dying fire.
His statement and the ominous manner in which he’d made it prompted Verity to drink the remainder of her sherry. She was suddenly eager to put an end to this interlude, despite the fact that she’d enjoyed it. For the first time, she glimpsed the possibility that this man might possess a darker nature—or at least the capacity for darkness.
“Fire is so treacherous,” he said. “It draws us in with its warmth and beauty, but it can wreak total devastation.”
She puzzled at the direction of his thoughts but didn’t question him.
“Water is more beautiful, though. The ocean has a quiet cadence and a serenity that can calm even the wildest of things.” One corner of his mouth ticked up. “Themostbeautiful is when the fire meets the water—a perfect burning sun setting into a wide, cool sea.” He turned his gaze to hers, and the intensity in the green depths of his eyes captivated her. “None of that compares to you, however. You’re beyond beautiful. You exist in that space near perfection—for nothing is truly perfect—where wonder and joy convene.”
His words enthralled her, obliterating her discomfort of a moment before. No one had ever spoken to her like that. “You should write that down.” Her words came out low and soft, and it was a silly thing to say, but she meant it.
“Maybe I will.” His lips curved up again in that charming half smile, and she was confidentthatwas her favorite.
They were all her favorite.
“Papa?”
They both turned at the sound of Beau’s voice.
