Page 127 of Thief of the Ton
His frown disappeared and a smile slowly crept across his face. “There’s naught to forgive. In fact, I’m rather proud of your escapades. From what Mrs. Bates said, the Phoenix is the talk of the servants—a legend akin to Robin Hood.”
She began to laugh, then the darkness of last night pushed to the fore.
The body on the ground…
There waseverythingto forgive—but what she’d done was unforgiveable.
Her vision blurred, and she blinked as the tears spilled onto her cheeks.
“Lavinia!” he cried. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. How could she tell him?
Blinded by the tears, she withdrew her hand to wipe her eyes. Then she heard his chair scrape back, and two bony arms drew her into an embrace.
“It matters not,” he said. “Your old papa will take care of you. As your mother used to say, ‘Everything will be all right in the end.’”
If only she could be so sure!
A sob swelled in her throat, and she clung to him.
Then their peace was shattered by three sharp raps on the front door.
“Who the devil has come to see us at this hour?” Papa muttered. “It’s barely seven o’clock.” He let out a huff. “Unless it’s the butcher’s boy using the front door again—Mrs. Bates has already admonished him about that.”
Mrs. Bates clomped along the hallway, then Lavinia heard the latch lift, and muffled voices.
Footsteps approached, and the breakfast room door opened. Lavinia rose to greet the newcomer, then froze as a familiar pair of hazel eyes stared directly at her.
Peregrine…
His powerful frame filled the doorway, seeming to block out the sunlight—the man who had pledged to bring the Phoenix to justice.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came.
Then he stepped forward and reached toward her. The image of the wraith from her dream flashed before her mind, and she gave a start.
“Lord Marlow, I don’t recall inviting you here,” Papa said, “and certainly not at this hour. Why have you come? I doubt it’s because you wish to share my breakfast.”
Peregrine glanced at Lavinia, and her gut twisted at the seriousness of his expression. Then he resumed his attention on her father and issued a deep bow.
“I am come to apologize, Lord de Grande,” he said.
“For what, Lord Marlow?”
“For what my father did to you.” He gestured around the breakfast room. “I apologize that your circumstances were reduced tothis.”
Papa straightened his stance, and for a moment his expression was proud. “The state of my circumstances depends on your perspective, Lord Marlow. I may have lost my fortune, but I have honor on my side, and I have my beloved daughter, two precious treasures that nobody could take from me—though your father took everything else, did he not?”
Peregrine nodded. “I know,” he said quietly. “I suspected it, but didn’t want to believe that my father could do such a thing. Even now, after so many years, he harbors no shame for what he did. He boasted of the bidding he’d fixed at auction with the others to secure your most precious treasures for a pittance.”
He glanced toward Lavinia again. “It was there in front of me—the link between each item—and yet I did not see it.”
Her vision blurred again. Peregrine reached toward her and caught her arm, and she let out a low cry of pain.
“Are you hurt, my love?”
Papa drew in a sharp breath.
