As she readied herself for bed that night, she knew what she had to ask of Lucian to assuage the nagging anxiety that dogged her steps these days. When he joined her under the covers with an intent expression she now knew all too well, she stayed his advance with a hand to his chest.
He gave her a searching look, and her heart was in her throat. How tempting, to just indulge in the pleasure he was offering …
“I must ask you something,” she said.
His eyes became alert. “What is it?”
Her breathing became shallow. “It is about the Earl of Rutland.”
And icy wind seemed to blast through the room.
“What of him?” Lucian asked coolly. Beneath her palm, his chest had turned hard like rock.
She swallowed. “Is he the last man on your list?”
“What is it to you?”
“You must know that calling in his debts would not endear you to society,” she ventured.
“What is it to you?” he repeated. His eyes were onyx, black and impenetrable.
How dark he was inside! This, this was precisely why she had to address the matter.
“I was thinking you should let him go,” she blurted. “I would very much like for you to let him go.”
He was looking at her as though she were a stranger. “You surprise me.”
“I sense a terrible mood in you whenever his name is mentioned, whenever you think of him,” she said. “It worries me, it does. You have plans that require a rehabilitation of your reputation, and our marriage shall only advance your standing so far. Besides, it can’t be good for your health. Or your soul.”
“My … soul,” he said, astonished.
She nodded. “Grudges are a weight the grudge holder carries, and you already carry so much.” And she would rather he felt free. Free to love her, and safe, safe for her to love him back.
“A grudge!” Lucian thawed from his sudden rigidity. “Right now, I have men in possibly unsafe tunnels he asked them to dig into the northern shelf,” he said. “And you don’t know what else he has done.”
“I don’t need to know what he has done,” she said, “for no man’s character should determine your character.”
“Too late,” he said. “He owned the mine where I worked. He owned much of me.”
At her shocked intake of breath, his cold expression suffused with a dash of pity. Presumptuous girl, said that face, don’t ask for things you know nothing about. A thick lump formed in her throat. When Lucian wore this face, she knew men had reason to fear him. How very little she knew of him yet.
“Since you have plans for which you need to be in the good graces of society …”
He gave an annoyed shake. “Harriet. Are you so na?ve to believe the good men win? No. I don’t need to let Rutland off the hook anytime soon.”
Na?ve. She scrambled to refocus. “I can’t fathom the injustices to which he has subjected you, but I understand your hatred for him is at odds with your plans. And I understand his wife is unwell. And your anger frightens me.”
“You’re changing your narrative, love,” he said, not sounding loving. “What is it, concern for my plans, my health, his wife, or your feelings?”
Her reply congealed in her mouth. What was it, indeed? But wasn’t it self-evident that he shouldn’t torture people?
“Must you make him pay more?” she said. “Even if it costs you a wider success?”
“I can do both,” Lucian said. “Am I not allowed satisfaction?”
“I worry,” she whispered. “I worry it shall not satisfy you the way you hope.”
His eyes became vacant, as though he wasn’t seeing her at all. “You don’t know what you are asking,” he finally said.
Something crumpled inside her chest. Hope? Her self-esteem? Her gaze dropped as her composure slipped.
Lucian touched her chin and made her face him. His face was unreadable. “It would mean a lot to you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, reflexively.
He released her. He stretched out on the mattress and stared at the dark ceiling with his jaw clenched and struggled terribly with himself for long minutes, which made her want to squirm on the spot. But it had been a good and necessary request.
When he raised his head again, a cool glitter shone in his eyes. “All right,” he said. “I’ll try.”
A weight lifted off her whole being, and the sudden lightness left her disoriented. He was trying. Trying for her. “Thank you,” she murmured.