“Only if you vow no more questions about monkeys, dukes, andher.”
Two heads nodded.
“Good. Then you are welcome.” He would rather not be alone anyway, and even Drake had come along—a man who didn’t normally set foot in these parts.
Knox waved a hand. “Just to be sure, we are allowed to discuss your ruin?”
Ruin?Hisruin or her ruin? Their ruin? What happened tonight was not enough to ruin her, was it? Certainly not him. They had been engaged in all sorts of public flirtations this past season, so tonight should hardly be more than a bit of scandal, a few headlines to stir up gossip. In the grand scheme of things, he should be nothing more than a hint of sour lemon on an otherwise sweet cake.
He could never be the sweetness.
Chapter Twenty-One
Family. Fury. Thetwo words entwined. The British cavalry couldn’t tear these two words apart, so inseparable were they. Just like Leonora could never separate the blood pulsing through her veins from that which ran through her parents’. She could never escape this inheritance. It was in her, forever. Like so many other things. Dare had once said she was smarter than Heart, which meant she must have inherited her mother’s cleverness. But she’d inherited plenty from her father—stubbornness chief among them. She could never run from it. Could never hide it.
She turned to face Heart the moment she finished marching into the first drawing room convenient for their confrontation, feeling the heavy burden of silence from the carriage ride home. That silence clung to her like a shadow.
Common wisdom claimed that the ties of family were more important than all others, and Leonora agreed. However, she had reached the precipice of a moment that refused to be contained for much longer. She would suffocate if she remained this way.
“What the devil did you do?” Heart growled. “What the devil happened at the theatre?”
She had lived her life.
“You held his hand! Hand. Palm on palm. Thank God you were wearing gloves. Do you understand how it might still be interpreted?”
Of course.
“How could you allow such a thing?” He dragged both hands through his hair. “You’re an innocent lady!”
I’m really not.
“He is a damnable rake!”
Perhaps not damnable.
“The gossip rags will tear you asunder!”
“Heart.”
His glowing eyes fixed on her, his breathing ragged and uneven. Leonora strode over and took his hand in hers and placed it over his heart. “Breathe.”
He inhaled, exhaled, his eyes on her.
“Dare is not the concern here,” she said quietly. Not tonight at least. In the morning, he would become a concern again. The way he had strode from the theatre earlier. The flicker in his gaze in his parting look. She’d dissect it all later. For now, other matters required her attention.
Heart’s brows furrowed. “He is every concern—”
“Father.”
He jerked back, and her hand fell away. His face lost all color, and even his breathing seemed to stop. Leonora’s pulse, on the other hand, threatened to push from her chest and straight into her throat. She had said it. She had finally said it. Finally called him father.
“Why would you call me that?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Because you are my father.”
“What are you talking about? I’m your—”
“Father. You’re my father.”
