Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

" W hile I was tied to that bed, I had a great deal of time to think about everything," Aidan was saying, his expression earnest. "Time to think about you and how much your friendship means to me and how bloody selfish I have been. It was unfair of me to use you to anger my family, and I admit it. It was also wrong of me to want to marry you when I had no intention of remaining faithful. You deserve so much better than that, so much better than me."

Pen had returned from The Sinner's Palace II to find her friend awaiting her in the parlor, looking sheepish and requesting a word.

But this was decidedly not what she had anticipated. An invitation to another bare-knuckle match, or a covert expedition to The Garden of Flora, mayhap. An apology that was alarmingly close to a declaration, however? No.

She had a sick feeling she knew where this conversation was heading, and she had to stop it before it went too far. "I am certain you had time aplenty to consider everything that had happened, but I am not upset with you, Aidan. I never planned to marry you, and you know that."

"So you told me, but I was hoping you would— will —change your mind." He reached for her hand.

This was new, a gesture of affection between them. For the entirety of their friendship, Aidan had been a reckless, silly rakehell with not a modicum of seriousness in him. His attentions had never been amorous in nature. Indeed, until he had formulated his ludicrous notion they get betrothed to anger his family, Pen had been hard-pressed to believe he even saw her as a female. On most occasions when they were together, she dressed as a cove to hide her true identity.

She tried to tug her hand from his, but he clung steadfastly.

"Whatever do you mean, Aidan?" she asked. "What is there to change my mind about?"

"About me." He gave her fingers a squeeze. "About us."

Us?

Good heavens.

"I care about you as my friend," she reassured him, "just as I always have. However, there is no us, Aidan. There never has been, nor shall there ever be."

"How can you be so certain? We have never tried to make there be an us." He shook his head. "I should have courted you properly. I would like to do so now, if you would permit it."

Aidan wanted to court her.

Meanwhile, his brother, the man she loved, wanted nothing to do with her. He had made love to her, announced it had been a mistake, and then professed his intention to marry someone else. A suitable bride, no doubt. A perfectly groomed, wealthy lady who knew how to curtsy and dance and play the pianoforte. How Pen hated that lady, whomever she was.

How she longed to be her.

But Aidan was watching her now, awaiting her response.

"You must know I care for you. Heavens, if I didn't, I would have happily given you a basting after all the troubles you caused me. But I am in love with someone else."

"You are?" He almost sounded slightly relieved.

He probably was. Knowing Aidan, this was some sort of addle-pated means of making amends for the recent tangle he had made of her life.

"Yes," she said, thinking of Garrick as her heart squeezed painfully. "Unfortunately, I am."

She was in love with the wrong brother, and he would never love her in return.

"Why do you say unfortunately?" Aidan was still holding her hand, but Pen felt nary a spark, no hint of awareness.

Only Garrick could move her, it seemed.

"Because the man I love does not love me," she said, biting her lip to stave off a rush of tears.

She would not weep over a hardhearted, arrogant lord.

She would not.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

She was, blast it all.

"Dash the blighter," Aidan said, releasing her hand to reach into his coat and extract a handkerchief and offer it to her. "He does not deserve you either."

She sniffed, trying to keep the waterworks at bay and failing. "No, he does not."

She should have told him so last night. But then, she never should have been so foolish as to fall in love with Garrick in the first place.

"Are you certain you do not wish to marry me, then?" Aidan waggled his brows at her in comical fashion.

Pen laughed though her tears. For all that he had unwittingly put her on the path that had led to her broken heart, Aidan was dear to her. He could exasperate and charm simultaneously. It was one of his talents.

"It would not be fair to you," she said. "There is only one man I want to marry, and he is marrying another."

"Who?"

The low, familiar voice shot through the room. Pen's gaze flew to the door of the parlor where Garrick stood, tall, dignified, and heartbreakingly handsome. Every inch the perfect lord. She shot to her feet, scrubbing at her cheeks with the handkerchief in a hasty attempt at drying them and hiding her sadness from him.

"Brother," Aidan greeted, rising.

Garrick nodded, but his gaze was riveted upon Pen. Cold, blue, austere.

Haunting.

She had not been prepared to see him again so soon. Or ever. Her heart thudded fast.

"You said there is only one man you want to marry," Garrick said. "Who is he?"

She crumpled the scrap of linen in her fist and straightened her posture. "Why should you care?"

"Yes indeed, why should you care?" Aidan's gaze flitted between Pen and Garrick, his brow furrowed. "I thought the two of you scarcely were acquainted."

Pen flashed a tight smile. "We are quite familiar , your brother and I. Are we not, my lord?"

Just last night, they had been as familiar as a man and woman could be to each other.

Garrick strode forward, entering the parlor, closing the distance between them, his gaze never wavering as he stopped just short of Pen and Aidan. "Yes, we are."

She vowed she would not take a single step in retreat. She would be strong. But oh, how difficult it was to try to remain impervious. Her heart was his, even after last night. It would always, forever, belong to him.

"Christ, Garrick," Aidan said into the silence. "Have you been dallying with Pen?"

Was it that obvious? How humiliating. The urge to flee the chamber and lock herself away was strong, just barely quelled.

Garrick flicked a glance in Aidan's direction. "Leave us, brother."

"I am not certain I should." Aidan turned to Pen. "Tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

She glanced back at Garrick, heart torn. What could he possibly require of her? Why had he returned to The Sinner's Palace?

"Please, Pen," he entreated softly, devoid of his customary arrogance. "A few moments of your time is all I beg."

"Pen?" Aidan prodded.

She inhaled slowly, her breath hitching with a humiliating sob. Part of her wanted to salvage her pride and tell Garrick to go to the devil. But part of her was desperate to know why he had returned.

"You may leave us," Pen relented. "I shan't be in any harm."

Her heart, however, was another matter.

Aidan searched her gaze, then nodded, apparently seeing what he needed to see reflected there. "I'll go. But know this, brother, if you are the one responsible for making Pen weep, you had damn well better make amends for it."

Thank you, Aidan , she thought grimly. If Garrick had not noticed she had been weeping when he arrived before, there was no question of it now.

"I will," Garrick said solemnly.

How? She wanted to ask, but her tattered pride would not allow it. Instead, she held her tongue and watched her friend take his leave before reluctantly looking back to the man she loved.

Which proved a mistake, for he was gazing at her in a new way. The icy lordly mask of indifference was gone, and in its place was something different. Dare she think it tenderness?

"Who?" he asked again.

And he did not have to elaborate, for she knew what he wanted from her. The name of the man she wanted to marry.

The prick of tears began anew in her eyes. "Do you need to hear me say it?"

He moved closer, reaching for her hands, and took them in his. "Yes."

He was wearing gloves, but his warmth seared her, bringing a rush of longing for him back to life. She wanted to pull away. To disengage and run from him. But a splinter of hope remained, burrowed in her heart, telling her to stay.

To tell him the truth.

To take the risk.

"You," she admitted, tears burning her eyes and rendering her words halting. "It is you. Are you happy now?"

He smiled slowly, tugging her against his chest. "I could be happier."

"I am certain you shall be whenever you marry your beautiful aristocratic bride," she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

"I am not marrying Lady Hester."

Her heart leapt, but she forced it to calm. "That's a rum choice, because her name is quite dreadful."

He chuckled. "Her name matters not. She is in love with the Earl of Carlington, which is a most fortuitous turn of fortune's fickle wheel, because I am also in love with another."

She froze. "Oh?"

Please let her be me.

"Yes." He brought her fingers to his lips for a reverent kiss. "Perhaps you know her."

She swallowed. "I hope I do."

Icy-blue eyes burned into hers. "She is bold and daring and intelligent. She is not afraid to speak her mind or face a villain with a pistol. She has an excellent head for keeping ledgers, she has a mouth I long to kiss every hour of every day, the most glorious auburn hair I have ever beheld, and mysterious hazel eyes flecked with gold. She is known for gadding about London dressed as a gentleman, she is a brave and loyal friend, and from the moment I first met her, she has owned not just my thoughts, but my heart as well."

Oh.

Oh.

She was speechless. Those persistent tears returned, prickling her eyes. But this time, they were tears of happiness. He was speaking of her .

"I believe," she managed weakly, "that we may be acquainted."

"You are." He released her hands and cupped her face. "Because she is you . I love you, Pen Sutton. I have spent the last few years being the man society expected of me. But I want to spend the rest of my life being your man, if you will have me."

"You love me," she repeated, afraid to trust those words. Afraid to believe them.

And yet, needing to so badly, it was a physical ache.

"I love you," he said again. "Will you marry me?"

Yes! It was there, on her tongue, but she suppressed it. She had spent every moment since he had left her the night before in agony, and he needed to answer for it.

"Just last night, you said what happened between us was a mistake," she reminded him.

"Last night, I was an arse, and I must beg your forgiveness." His gaze roamed hers, love shining in those brilliant depths. "What happened between us was a mistake because I should have waited until I was your husband to make love to you. I should have had some honor and restraint, but where you are concerned, it would seem I have none. Nothing can keep me from wanting you to be mine. Not the belief you were betrothed to my brother, not my parents, not the ton , not Lady Hester. Nothing and no one can keep me from loving you."

He loved her.

Garrick loved her.

But as much as his words filled her with hope and happiness, the vast disparities in their worlds had not disappeared.

"I was born in the East End," she forced herself to say. "I will never be a lady."

"You are a lady in every way that matters," he countered. "I want you and only you."

"Your society will scorn me," she added. "If you feared the scandal Aidan marrying me would have caused, what do you think would happen if you were to marry me? You will be a duke one day."

"I will be a duke who is madly in love with his duchess," he said gently.

"Tongues will wag," she continued. "You know it as well as I do. A lord as prominent as yourself cannot wed an East End Sutton without being disparaged."

"Let the tongues wag. Let the gossip mongers spread their scandal broth. All I want to do is love you. Marry me, Pen."

He was intent upon his course, resolute. And she was weary of trying to dissuade him. The events of the previous night, a lack of sleep, and heartache all battered away at the crumbling walls of her defenses.

"I love you too," she conceded at last. "And I would be honored to be your wife."

"I told you I could be happier," he said, grinning. "And you have made me so. You'll not regret it, Pen. I swear. I will do my utmost to be the husband you deserve."

"I believe you, Lord Lordly," she teased, smiling against a rush of joyous tears this time.

"Hoyden." He kissed her crown, no sting in the word. "What am I to do with you?"

She pretended to ponder his question before smiling up at him, love filling her with a new, previously undiscovered sense of wonder. "Kiss me first. And then make me your Lady Lordly."

"With pleasure," he said, before his lips sealed over hers.