Chapter Thirty-Three

Richard kissed his aunt on the cheek before taking his seat beside her at the breakfast table. Since Elizabeth’s abduction and subsequent rescue, he’d been staying with his aunt and cousin to help them both feel the comfort of having him there. It was also for him…the drive to watch over them, to know that they were safe and unharmed. Despite his inability to be what they needed.

To them, he was a strong male, a potential protector, a bulwark against those who would hurt them. But, in reality, he was a failure.

It was because of him his cousin had been taken, and his aunt experienced the horrible agony of nearly losing her only child. If it hadn’t been for Victoria…

Victoria… His heart lurched at the thought of her.

It had been a week since he’d walked away from her in that carriage. It had gutted him then, watching her face fall as he turned away from her. He told himself it was because he needed to see to Elizabeth, get her settled, and give comfort to his aunt who was, rightly, distraught. He told himself that Victoria was right, it was better for him to walk away—from the Darings, their operation, and the threat it posed to the people he cared about.

Except the person he cared about most in the world was at the center of the very thing he wanted to cut away.

He clearly recalled his desperate pleas, begging Victoria to allow him to remain in her life. To remain close to her, to let them explore what was growing between them. From the pit of his being, he knew there was something there, something beyond anything he had ever dared to hope for. Had he been a fool to think, even for a moment, that she might feel the same?

When they’d kissed, when their bodies had been pressed together, it had felt right. She had felt right. When they’d shared those moments in the park, in the opera box, and during their exhilarating sparring match, he had known that she was an extraordinary woman. Matchless. And he had known, without a doubt, that the look in her eyes had been one of attraction, of deep emotion.

No, she might not have tender feelings toward him—yet, but there was something there they could have built on.

It could not be denied. And yet, she’d denied it. Had called him a hindrance, someone to drag behind her. In that moment, he’d felt unmanned, but it hadn’t lasted long, not once the tears had glittered in her eyes.

He’d known then that she was only pushing him away, and he’d let her.

Because…she’d also been correct.

He had demanded to be a part of Victoria’s life, through her work in Operation Imperial Twilight, and he’d been so blind in his desire for the woman behind the disguises and intrigue that he hadn’t thought about what his involvement with her and her family would cost him.

It had nearly cost him his cousin.

It had cost him his friend, Ethan, a man who’d fallen so far from grace that he’d thought nothing of targeting his friend’s family.

When he’d asked Elizabeth about her abduction and captivity, there had been little she could share. She’d said that Ethan had stopped her carriage, acting as a friend of the family, asking for a short ride to his home in Belgravia. Somewhat awed by the man’s presence in her carriage—she’d always been easily awed—she hadn’t thought to deny him.

But, when he’d brandished a pistol, she knew something was wrong. He told her to command the driver to take her to a back alley in St. Giles, where he left her maid, tied up, and dragged her into a basement room. The driver eventually untied the maid, who made her way back to their house on Park Street, but by then, word had spread of Elizabeth’s abduction. Unfortunately, the maid had been asleep and hadn’t woken until after the pistol had been drawn. She hadn’t known Ethan by sight and therefore couldn’t tell anyone who had taken Elizabeth.

Once Ethan had Elizabeth in that dank basement room, he’d left her there, tied to a crate, until he’d returned to take her to Hedo’s House and the meeting with Richard. She was to be the bait in the trap.

Richard had known it was a trap from the moment he’d read the scrawled words in Ethan’s script. It was the same script he thought he’d recognized on the playing card with the word “sinner” written on it. The S was a dramatically scrolled letter, and Richard knew that Ethan, in particular, loved to turn his S into a work of art, no matter how short the missive.

The suspicion of Ethan’s involvement had been there, gnawing at the back of his mind, but it wasn’t until he’d heard the man’s voice echoing through that desecration of a chapel that he’d known the truth of it. He’d written a missive to Leavenson to share that information with him—little good it would do now.

His friend, a man he’d known since they were lads at Eton, had fallen on a sword of his own making. He’d become no better than an animal, and it broke Richard’s heart. Ethan had been a lost soul, looking for comfort in the wrong place, and it had cost him his life.

It had cost Lord Benford his life as well.

Word of the man’s murder had made the rounds, some speculating that the housebreaker had finally killed someone, but Richard knew the truth. Benjamin Bennington’s father had been part of the scheme, hoping to manipulate Ethan into ridding him of his enemies, including his own son.

He couldn’t fathom the anguish Ben was feeling, but he couldn’t ask him. Benjamin had quit the country as soon as his father was laid to rest. And Richard had no doubt he would never see his friend again. Michael, as the new duke, had much weighing on him, and Richard did not envy his friend that. He sympathized for him, wishing him a life of blessings.

Yes, Richard had lost much, nearly losing it all. All because he’d allowed the thrill of excitement to drag him toward the flame of Victoria Daring and the promise of intrigue.

It was more than that—so much more.

Victoria had become his heartbeat.

But was he then no better than Ethan, seeking to fill a hole in his life with the iron that struck the hottest? Victoria had been the brightest, hottest, most brilliant person he’d ever known…and he’d walked away from her.

She told you to….

His gut tightened, roiling in concert with the pangs in his chest. There was nothing for it—he just had to put her out of his mind, at least until the moment was right.

And when will that be?

“You are more pensive than usual, Richard,” his aunt drawled from the head of the table, where she was tapping on her boiled egg to remove the shell. Shell gone, she continued, “What has you so deep in thought you haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the last ten minutes?”

Elizabeth dipped her head, peering at her coddled eggs as if they knew the meaning of life. She’d been that way since her return: withdrawn, quiet—quieter than usual—and anxious. She fairly jumped from her seat if anyone shut a door too strongly.

That is my fault…

“Darling, you’re at it again.” His aunt dropped her spoon on the table and pinned him with a sharp glare, cutting through the fog in his brain.

“I am sorry, Aunt Margaret. What is it you were saying?” he intoned, duly chided.

She took her cup of chocolate in her hand and began sipping it slowly, her eyes watching him, probably for signs of frustration. She’d find none. There was no need to hurry her; he had nowhere else to be. No one else to be with.

“I was telling you how terribly unfortunate it was to say goodbye to my dear friend Lady Gadstoke. She’s gone to Devonshire, to the Gadstoke estate,” his aunt said, taking another sip of her chocolate.

His blood froze. “Devonshire?”

Aunt Margaret nodded.

“It’s not a surprise,” Richard continued. “She seemed overwrought with all the busyness of the city. It will be good for her to spend some time outside its confines. Devonshire is lovely.”

The more he spoke, the more his aunt’s face fell. What had her so upset?

“Yes, it will be good for her,” his aunt agreed, “especially since she will have the whole of her family around her.”

Her family. Victoria.

“All of her family?” he asked, hardly able to speak the words.

“Yes. They departed several days ago. They should be there and settled by now.”

Tremors rippled through him, making his breath catch— Victoria was gone.

“I can see by the look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting that,” Aunt Margaret stated.

Unable to find his voice, he simply shook his head.

“Well, I don’t know, but I cannot imagine why you would be upset by this news. You seem to have lost all interest in that darling Victoria Daring.”

His aunt was so erroneous in her statement that he didn’t know where to begin. For the sake of the operation’s anonymity, he was unable to share any information about who had helped him rescue Elizabeth. All his aunt and cousin knew was that he’d gone to where he was commanded to go, he’d fought with Ethan, and someone had come to his aid.

He hadn’t told anyone that Victoria Daring was the one who’d saved them all—Elizabeth, Benjamin, and him.

He owed her his life…and she owned his heart.

And I walked away from her. I let her push me away.

The realization of her departure from the city settled on his chest, crushing him, pressing the air from his lungs like a reverse bellows. He’d been a fool to think that he could survive not having her if only she were still close by. He could see her at balls, in the streets, at the opera, at the park…and that would be enough to keep the searing ache in his chest from consuming the whole of him.

She wasn’t there. He wouldn’t see her beautiful face, hear her glorious laugh, feel the sweetness of her kiss, the heat of her body, the warmth of her spirit. How quickly she’d become a part of him. The best part.

A flickering of fire began in his gut, quickly growing to immolate his entire being.

Fight for her.

“Aunt Margaret, I hope you do not mind, but I find myself in need of the fresh country air,” he finally said, his voice shaky.

His aunt grinned a knowing smile. “I understand completely, dear.”

He rose to leave, but his aunt’s words stopped him. “Tell Victoria hello for me when you see her, will you?”

Smiling, he sent word to Justin that he was leaving town for a while and that he should send someone to visit with Aunt Margaret and Elizabeth every day. Then, he and his valet packed as many clothes as a single bag could carry, while the stable master saddled his horse, Circe.

By the time the bells of the cathedral were ringing the luncheon hour, he was leaving the city on the way to his future.

…

“Oh, Faith, what have you done to that poor dog?” Honoria cried, rushing to the sheepdog Faith had apparently subjected to a session of pampering and beautifying.

“She looked like she could use a new coiffure,” Faith said unrepentantly. The child was smiling impishly, and Victoria couldn’t help but laugh.

Watching Honoria try to wrangle the overexcited dog, Victoria took charge. “Darling, she is a he, and he most certainly does not need a new coiffure. His fur is meant to guard against the cold, not look dashing with globs of pomade—and where did you get the pomade anyway?”

Faith shrugged, her blue eyes flashing playfully. “Love’s room.”

Honoria tsked, fighting back a laugh of her own as she finally got the dog to sit long enough for her to put a lead around his neck. “Love will not be pleased that you used his pomade on that mutt.”

“Lady Abalone isn’t a mutt; she is a princess who has lost her prince and is in search of a new one to marry.” Faith tipped up her chin most adoringly and sniffed. “Would you deny her the chance at true love?”

Her sister’s innocent question pierced her to the quick. Struggling to breathe, Victoria stammered, “N-no, darling. We wouldn’t want that.”

Seemingly mollified, Faith took the lead from Honoria and led Lady Abalone from the morning room where Honoria and Victoria were sitting…embroidering.

Now that she’d actually tried it, Victoria could see why some considered it a leisurely activity. It didn’t require much thought, it calmed the mind, and it could be done while chatting—if one felt like chatting.

“Now, where were we,” Honoria began. “Oh, right—you were about to tell me what heartless lout kicked your puppy.”

Confused, Victoria furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about, Honoria? I don’t have a puppy.”

Honoria waved off her remark. “It is a figure of speech. It means, who hurt you so much that you look like your favorite pet died?”

A shaky laugh escaped, and Vic smiled at her darling sister. “You noticed, did you?” Of course she did. Honoria was as perceptive as the rest of the Darings, all of whom had been tiptoeing around her for the last week.

Suddenly, it was just too much: the fear, the aching sadness, the despair, the loneliness, the hopelessness, and the realization that she’d spent a lifetime becoming something she didn’t want to be.

A weapon. A lonely human weapon.

That night, outside the warehouse, the look on Richard’s face as he stared down at her dressed in her training costume, it was like he was looking at something meant to destroy. He was looking at her like she had destroyed him…destroyed any chance of ever being loved. It had gutted her, but it had strengthened her resolve to cut him off.

It is better this way….

Sobbing, Victoria said, “I hurt…” She let the pain envelop her. “I hurt so much.”

Suddenly, Honoria was there, her arms locking Victoria to her chest as Victoria wept like her world was drowning in tears.

“There, there, darling…” Honoria cooed, rubbing Vic’s back soothingly. “Let it out, my love, let it out.”

And Victoria did.

She sobbed until the sobbing made her ache more than the sadness had. The whole of her was tense, stiff…but then it wasn’t. She leaned into Honoria, letting her sister’s strength calm her. Finally, when the sobbing stopped, she just lay in the circle of Honoria’s arms in silence.

The clock in the sitting room down the hall chimed the hour, and Vic realized she’d been sitting with her sister for over forty-five minutes.

Sniffing, she pushed away, and Honoria dropped her arms, sighing.

“I am sorry for that,” Vic said.

Honoria pressed a hand to Vic’s cheek, sliding her thumb over the dried tracks of tears. “You know I don’t mind being here for you. What are sisters for?”

Vic smiled, a sad smile, then remarked, “Thank you, then. I needed that.”

“I can see that. Also, I knew something was wrong when you returned from the rescue operation and didn’t immediately run to the dàochǎng to release the pent-up emotions from the night. Instead, you closed yourself away in your room.” Honoria sighed again, dropping her hand to her lap. “Was it Richard?”

Struck by the question and the mention of Richard, she shuddered. Sucking in a deep breath, she replied, “He did nothing wrong.”

At her sister’s arched look, she continued, “He did what he needed to do to keep his family safe. We all knew that any connection to us could be dangerous. Look at what happened to Elizabeth after he took part in one single operation. He only provided harmless information and escorted me to Algren’s, and then his whole world was turned upside down.” She swallowed the burning tears in her throat. “I don’t blame him for taking the out I offered.”

And she didn’t. He’d done the right thing, leaving her and her magnetism for danger behind. She just wished he hadn’t taken her heart with her when he’d gone.

I will learn from this.

She would guard her heart, never again allowing another person entrance to the very center of her. It was a mistake to let Richard that close, but she hadn’t ever faced such bone-deep connection or fiery attraction before.

And she never would again.

Honoria was silent as her gaze examined Vic’s expression. Finally, she said, “I understand. But that doesn’t mean you have to stop being who you are.”

Victoria scoffed. “Who am I? What am I? A perfectly honed blade, slashing at our enemies. I was never meant to be the kind of woman a man would want. How could I? I was meant—always have been meant—to be a ready form of destruction. These hands will only ever hold a blade, never a babe of my own. I will never know the love of someone I love in return, only the fear and hatred that comes with my being dispatched to cull the Crown’s enemies.”

Suddenly infused with energy, she stood and began pacing.

“Darling, you are a Daring,” Honoria said. “That means that, yes, you will be asked to use your skills for the betterment of our Kingdom, but you are also a part of a family of people who love you. Our father wants more for us than cold metal and heartbreak. He has already spoken to Verity and me about taking some time to have a normal Season. No skulking, no infiltrating, no missions. Just us, being young women, finding joy in life and possibly in love.”

Honoria, the dear, had always been the most romantic of the Daring children. Vic wished, from the bottom of her heart, that her sister would find true love.

It just wasn’t meant for her.

“That sounds lovely, Honoria. I am glad you and Verity will have that time to be true debutantes.” She offered her sister a lopsided grin. “Now, I find that I am more wound up than an Ormolu clock.”

Honoria grinned, then stood. “I know better than to keep you from the dàochǎng. Let me know if you’d like to go a few rounds later.”

Vic nodded, kissing her sister on the forehead, before quitting the morning room.

She headed to her bedchamber to change into her jiànshēn fú before making her way to a third-floor bedroom that had been modified into a new dàochǎng. This one wasn’t as stifling hot because there were far more windows to open to let in the breeze.

Moving into the room, Victoria stared at the wall of blades, displayed prominently along the wall nearest the door. She’d been a fool to believe she could have a real life outside of all that she knew. An enormous idiot to think she could ever love someone who loved her back, and that she could marry him and have a family. That she could have happiness without the need to capture it and hold it captive with her own hands.

These were her life…mounted on a wall. Sharp edges ready for action.

Her hands trembling, she didn’t reach for a sword right away. Instead, she closed her eyes, allowing the energy that had driven her to the dàochǎng in the first place to settle into the pit of her stomach.

She just didn’t have it in her anymore. But if she wasn’t a battle-ready warrior for the Crown, what was she?

“Hello, Victoria,” a deep, velvet voice said from behind her.

She spun, her heart in her throat, to see Richard standing in the doorway, looking far too handsome with his windblown golden hair, his hard yet beautiful face, and his glittering molten eyes.

“Care for a rematch?”