Devil's Daughter

There was a discreet knock at the door.

“Come in,” the duke said, the silvered locks at his temples glinting in the light as he turned his head.

A footman opened the door. “Your Grace,” he said, and gave a decisive nod toward the window.

The duke rose from his chair and went to the window, glancing down at the street. “Ah. What perfect timing.” He glanced back at the footman. “Proceed.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

West was too consumed by his thoughts to pay attention to the exchange. In his life, he’d had more than his share of lectures, some brutal enough to leave permanent gouges in his soul. But no man had ever spoken to him quite like this, wry, honest, direct, bracing, and a bit high-handed in a way that felt oddly reassuring. Fatherly. Admittedly, the suggestion of cowardice had rankled, but West couldn’t deny that Kingston was right, it was fear. He was afraid of too many damned things.

But the list was a bit shorter now. Shaving had just been crossed off. That proved something, didn’t it?

Kingston had gone to the partially open door. He was speaking to someone on the other side of the threshold.

A muffled female voice, just the tone of it, awakened West’s nerves like a handful of Lucifer matches all lit at once. He stood so quickly, he nearly knocked the chair backward. As he moved closer to the door, his heart started beating fast and hard, his ears straining.

“. . . brought the children,” she was saying. “They’re downstairs with Nanny.”

Kingston laughed quietly. “Your mother will have a fit of temper when I tell her I had them all to myself here, while she was at Heron’s Point.” Becoming aware of West’s approach, he stepped back and opened the door a bit wider.

Phoebe.

Joy filled West in a violent rush. Thunderstruck by the force of his feelings, he could only stare at her. In that moment, he knew that no matter what happened from then on, no matter what he had to do, he would never be able to leave her again.

“Father sent for me this morning,” Phoebe said breathlessly. “I had to hurry to catch the train in time.”

Clumsily West took a step back as she entered the room.

“I’ve done my part,” the duke said. “Now I suppose I’ll have to leave it to you two.”

“Thank you, father,” Phoebe replied wryly. “We’ll try to manage without you.”

Kingston left, closing the door behind him.

West stayed exactly where he was as Phoebe turned to face him. Holy Hell, it felt good to be near her. “I’ve been thinking,” he said huskily.

A tremulous smile curved her lips. “About what?”

“Trust. When I told you I couldn’t count on someone loving me . . .”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I realized that before I can have trust . . . actually feel it . . . I’ll have to start doing it. Trusting blindly. I’ll have to learn how. It’s . . . difficult. “

Her beautiful eyes shimmered. “I know, darling,” she whispered.

“But if I’m ever going to try it with anyone, it has to be you.”

Phoebe inched closer to him. Her eyes were so bright, they were like bottled lightning. “I’ve been thinking, too.”

“About?”

“About surprises. You see, there was no way of knowing how much time Henry and I would have together before his decline started. As it turned out, it was even less time than we’d expected. But it was worth it. I would do it again. I wasn’t afraid of his illness, and I’m not afraid of your past, or whatever might leap out at us. That’s the chance everyone takes, isn’t it? The only ironclad guarantee is that we’ll love each other.”

West’s heart was thundering now, his entire life poised at the brink. “There is one problem,” he said hoarsely. “I once promised never to propose to you. But I never said I wouldn’t accept a proposal. I’m begging you, Phoebe . . . Ask me. Because I love you and your children more than my heart can bear. Ask me as a mercy, because I can’t live without you.”

Her smile was blinding as she drew closer. “West Ravenel, will you marry me?”

“Oh God, yes.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately, too hard for pleasure, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

Now their story would begin, their futures instantly rewritten. Two futures joined into one. Light seemed to shimmer all around them, or perhaps that was just the effect of tears in his eyes. This, West thought in wonder, was far too great a portion of happiness for one man.

“Are you sure?” he asked in-between kisses. “Somewhere out there, the perfect man you deserve is probably searching for you.”

Phoebe laughed against his mouth. “Let’s hurry, then—we can be married before he gets here.”