Page 104 of Thief of the Ton
“You misunderstand me, Lavinia,” he said softly. “I’m not accusing you of falsehood—in fact, I admire your honesty.”
She flinched again—but this time out of shame, rather than indignation.
“My father always said that Lord de Grande lost his money speculating on ventures in the South Seas, and that he tried to help your father, but was refused. But…” He hesitated. “Now I wonder whether rather than helping your father, he helped himself instead.”
He lowered his head, and his warm breath caressed her skin. She only need move her head a fraction and their lips would meet.
“Oh, Lavinia,” he whispered. “My sweet little Guinevere—the delightful girl from my childhood has grown into a lovely young woman. I can no longer conceal my feelings.”
Her heart fluttered as his eyes darkened with desire.
He lowered himself to the floor and kneeled before her. “Lavinia,” he whispered, curling his fingers around hers, “my love…”
“Please, do not say it!” she cried.
A flicker of hurt rippled across his expression, and she ached with the need to ease it.
“Have I misunderstood you, Lavinia? Is my love not returned?”
She shook her head. “Oh, Peregrine, it’s impossible,” she said. “Can you not see that? My father would never allow it. He insists I have nothing to do with you again. I’m betraying him merely by sitting here.”
“And yet Lady Betty had no objection.”
“Lady Betty is a dear friend. She wants me to be happy.”
“And your father wants you to be miserable?”
The pain in his eyes tore at her heart—for it mirrored her own. “You don’t understand,” she said. “Papa has suffered so much. After Mama died, he clung to her memory. But when he was ruined, eventhatwas taken from him. He might have forgiven the loss of his wealth—but, to him, what your father did was like losing Mama all over again, because it desecrated her memory.”
“How so?”
The expression in his eyes sharpened, and she caught a glimpse of the intelligence that had shone there the day the Hythe painting disappeared. Was he, even now, ruled by his determination to catch the Phoenix?
Which was another reason why she must deny him.
“I-I only meant the loss of his home—of Fosterley Park, where he was so happy with my mother,” she said. “Papa is not the man he was. His health has deteriorated over the years, and the last thing I want is to distress him further.”
“Your devotion to your father does you credit,” he said. “But, perhaps, I might be able to persuade him?”
She shook her head. “You saw how he reacted—I cannot risk it. I-I would never forgive myself if he fell ill again.”
“But don’t you deserve to be happy?” he asked. “Don’t you love me?”
Moisture stung her eyes, and a tear splashed onto her cheek. “I love my father,” she whispered. “Everything I do is for him. His hatred for your father runs too deep.”
He curled his fingers around hers, then brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her palm. Her heart threatened to break at the tender, gentle gesture, and another tear splashed onto her cheek. He lifted his hand and wiped the tear away.
“Don’t be sad, my love,” he whispered.
“I don’t know what is to be done.”
He held her hand against his chest, where his heart beat faintly against her palm.
“Do you feel my heart?” he whispered. “It beats for you, and will do so until I draw my last breath. I pledge myself to you, here and now.”
“But we cannot be together—I cannot do that to Papa.”
“Iloveyou, Lavinia,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Perhaps, in time, your father will come to understand that. But if not, I will wait for you—I’ll wait until the end of days to claim you as my wife, if need be.”
