“But, I’m flush.” Finn struggled to his feet, swayed, paying dearly for that guzzled glass of Scotch. “The gaming hell alone brings in enough to shelter ten families. Before my dismissal, I wasted half my selections at Oxford on economics and finance because Julian thought to have me start investing. And I’ve done really well, a surprise to both of us. Marriage to me is not a financial risk, it’s reputational. Sound logic, every point I presented, and she understood. She agreed. She knows I love her. I made it clear. I showed her.” When he noticed Ashcroft’s sour look, he added, “I’m trying to do the noble thing here. At great sacrifice, I might add, so get that acerbic scowl off your face.”
Bastian polished off his drink with a snort. “Christ, Finn. Did you think to tell her you love her? I’m no expert, that’s undeniable, but even I realize it’s the starting point.”
“If she knew, I couldn’t have dragged her away, no matter the miserable future I threatened her with. You don’t know her. Stubborn doesn’t begin to cover it.”
“I have a partial solution. Not flawless but achievable. Though there’s little I can do about your illegitimacy, with my support of your marriage, Lady Hamilton will survive being given the cut at every millinery and haberdashery in town. Considering she’s choosing the comeliest man in England, most will understand her selecting him, even over a duke. I’ll start by throwing a celebratory ball, which as the person who’s betrothed was stolen from beneath his regal nose, showcases my incredible benevolence and our remarkable friendship. Imagine the sympathy I’ll receive as I publicly concede to true love and brotherhood.” He slipped his watch from his pocket and checked the time. He was set to meet with his solicitor, and one of them was going to need a special license. “Talk about noble.”
Finn turned from the window and his study of the turbulent crimson and gold sunset flowing like crushed velvet over the horizon. “Is the most distinguished rogue in London suggesting happiness is possible for people like us?”
Bastian scrubbed his hand across his face to hide the flush. He rarely suffered from discomfiture. “You and your damned brother are rubbing off on me. You see, at my core, I’m a humble man. I was a lowly third son who, against my family’s wishes, bought an army commission to try and escape a supernatural curse, only to find much of that family wiped out by cholera when I returned. A dukedom I was ill-equipped to manage landing like a boulder on my chest. You see, I’m still adjusting to this life.” He coughed, shrugged, not any better at sharing his emotions with men than he was with women. “Maybe I’m stepping in where I’m not wanted, but if you love the lady, I want you to have her. If she’ll have you.”
Finn released a fetching smile, both bashful and insufferable. “You think she will?”
No one denied the Blue Bastard. Bastian would wager a gold sovereign that Victoria Hamilton wasn’t going to be the start.
“Tell Lady Hamilton to make the retelling of her rejection of my offer tragic. I want the ton in tears, absolute despair.” With a yawn, Bastian stretched out on the sofa and laid his arm over his eyes. “Women love consoling a heartbroken man. They can all step in to comfort me.”
“Thanks, my friend,” Finn said as he sprinted from the room. “I’ll never forget this.”
A matchmaker, Bastian thought with a sigh. How peculiar. How interesting.
A singular feeling of satisfaction flooded the often-subdued Duke of Ashcroft as he fell into a dreamless, contented sleep.
Chapter 17
Finn smoothed his palm over his rumpled waistcoat and drew a nervous inhalation through his teeth. It was just after midnight, and Julian’s townhouse was hushed, the only sounds a ticking clock somewhere down the hallway and the creak and shift of an aging domicile. The liquor he’d shared with Ashcroft had worn off hours ago, leaving his belly empty and his hands trembling. Slightly trembling. Who could judge harshly? After all, it wasn’t every day a man professed love to two women.
One he felt sure would accept his offer, the other he wasn’t so sure about.
He decided to start with the easier sell.
Stubbing the toe of his boot against the polished plank floor, he raised his hand, grazed the door with his knuckle, then shot another breath from his lips and knocked. Soft footpads sounded from within the bedchamber. The squeal of an unoiled doorknob broke the silence, then she stood before him. And his heart—recognizing her without any provocation, without any true memory, their eyes and a past he couldn’t recall the only thing connecting them—gave a firm, vigorous thump.
“Finley Michel?” Belle whispered through the crack between door and frame. Her smile growing, she brought it wide and motioned him inside, her flaxen braid swinging. The locket around her neck glimmered in the dusky gaslight. “What are you doing here? At this time?” She reached to touch his cheek, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. “You look flushed. Are you unwell? There’s a bruise on your jaw.”
He pressed her hand to his face when she would have pulled away, closing his eyes to capture the sensation of someone of his blood, for the first time, touching him. The sting behind his lids was one of happiness, but he fought the reaction, nonetheless. He didn’t want to scare her with overly emotional sentiments on what was turning out to be the most emotional day of his life. “I’m fine. More than fine.” He opened his eyes, his gaze catching hers. “I’m resolute. Determined. Certain.”
Her brow knit in confusion, but she tugged him into the bedchamber by his sleeve and closed the door with a soft snick. Leaning against it, she watched him prowl the small but luxurious space, accepting of the time he needed to resolve his dilemma. His mind was clear of stolen thoughts, proving Victoria was in residence a floor below, but the words he wanted to utter were tangled in his throat.
Halting by the settee Piper had placed in the room to fashion a modest sitting area, he yanked his gloves off and slapped them against his thigh. “Belle, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you’re happy, protected, loved. You’ll never want for anything ever again. And…where I go, you go. No matter the changes coming up in my life, you’re my family.” He exhaled through the tension contracting his chest. “If you want to live with me, that is.”
He hoped one proposal this eve was going to be accepted without a fight.
Belle pushed off the door with a graceful move reminiscent of one he would execute. As she crossed the room, he studied her. He could see a resemblance in the shape of her face, her mouth maybe, and yes, the eyes. Most assuredly the eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said when she got close enough for him to see her tears, “for things I couldn’t possibly have changed. I’m sorry, but I will make up for it, I promise you this.”
She bumped against his shoulder, and his arms opened, his gloves falling unnoticed to the carpet. “We have a future, Finn. A real one this time,” she whispered as he hugged her tight. “I’ll go where you go. You need not ask. I cannot be more grateful because I have my brother back.”
He settled his chin atop her head and sighed out the past. Remorse, guilt, fury. There was no place for these emotions in his new life. He wasn’t going to be held back by fear or uncertainty or even goodness of heart. He was the bastard son of a viscount and the grandson of a French marquis—and he was going to marry the woman he loved.