“I have lived with him ever since my mother died six years ago.”
“And your mother was—”
“An actress, sir.”
“Of course.”
Good Lord, he felt like a giant seated beside her. She seemed so small and fragile as if she might break were he to hold her too close, too tightly. Not that he would be holding her at all.
“One cannot help but notice that there is a distinct lack of affection between you and your family, Miss Duval.” Society treated illegitimate children like an inferior breed.
She clasped her tiny hands in her lap. “I’m an inconvenience to them, sir, and I fear my sister is jealous of anyone who might steal her thunder.”
Again, the truth fell from her lips with ease.
Devlin resisted the urge to call her sister a malicious crone.
A tense silence ensued.
“Do you want to marry me, Miss Duval?” It was a ridiculous question. Clearly she was at her father’s beck and call. “Before you answer, know that I require honesty in this matter.” Devlin’s harsh tone carried the frustration of having been outwitted by the pompous baron.
She glanced up at him and for a moment said nothing. Her vibrant green gaze drifted over his face, settling on the grim downward turn of his mouth that he knew made his dark features appear more menacing.
“If you want the truth, sir, I would do anything to escape spending another night with those who have the gall to call me family.” She sighed. “But they tricked you, and it is clear we are unsuited. I fully understand your reasons for withdrawing your claim.”
Did she?
Did she think her inferior status was reason enough for him to retreat? He was not a preened lord of the ton who lived and breathed for his mama’s good opinion. Why would he permit a horde of gossipmongers to control his life or his destiny?
“What makes you think we are unsuited?”
Miss Duval arched a brow. “You mean besides my illegitimacy and the fact you’re twice my size?” she said with a faint hint of amusement.
“Twice your size when standing. Seated here, it is not so obvious.”
“No,” she agreed. “It is not.”
“Do I frighten you?”
“A little.”
“Only a little?” Less than most, then.
Once again she fell silent.
“I met your brother, Ambrose, numerous times,” she suddenly said, and the mere mention of his brother made Devlin’s heart pound hard in his chest. “I found him to be a most kind and generous gentleman. You have the same dark hair, though his eyes were lighter if I remember correctly.”
“They were hazel. Mine are almost black.”
“Yes.”
Devlin clenched his jaw. What the hell was he doing outside with Miss Duval when it was his need to punish Miss Bromfield that led him to make the wager?
“Are you aware of the vicious things your sister has said about my brother?” After death, a man’s reputation was his legacy. Miss Bromfield had destroyed that which mattered most to Ambrose. The one thing he strived to protect.
“Yes, sir, and I find it despicable.” Her hand fluttered to her chest, and she grew breathless. “Forgive me,” she said in a mild panic. “I meant only that I find my sister’s behaviour despicable and do not believe her lies for a second.”
Intrigued by the comment, Devlin turned to face her fully. “You are aware of Miss Bromfield’s devious traits?”