The Love of a Libertine

by Jess Michaels

  His lips parted and understanding crossed his face. “I—don’t know,” he said, his voice halting and his concern clear. “I hope not. I hope nothing he did in the past, nothing he will do in the future, will destroy him.”

  She moved toward him a step. “You love him.”

  “Yes,” Robert replied, this time with none of the hesitation that had been present throughout this awkward conversation. “He might not believe that, but I do.”

  “Then he’s lucky,” Lizzie said. “I know the power of the love of an older brother.”

  His smile widened. “Good day, Lizzie.”

  “Good day,” she repeated, and slipped from the room. When she did, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in a long sigh. She knew Morgan was about to face all the things he’d done, everything he’d admitted to her the night before.

  She could only hope he wouldn’t lose everything when he did. That she wouldn’t either.

  Morgan sat waiting for Brighthollow before the fire in his employer’s office, staring at the flames as they devoured the wood. His head ached a little, but nothing like it had immediately after the attack. He knew he looked a fright, but there was nothing he could do about that. The bruises would heal. But they were bound to be a stark reminder to Brighthollow of what a danger Morgan might pose to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth. His mind wandered as he waited, but not to the places it should have. He should have been preparing what to say, thinking through his strategy no matter how Brighthollow responded.

  Instead, he thought of how lovely Elizabeth was clothed only in firelight. How much warmer and brighter she was than either sun or moon. And how desperately he wanted to repeat what he knew was a one-time gift. He wanted to hold her against him for hours, days, weeks. For as long as it took to make himself forget that he didn’t deserve her.

  The door across the room opened, and he jolted from those thoughts and rose to his feet as Brighthollow entered. The duke looked stern as his gaze flitted over Morgan. He shut the door and motioned Morgan back to his seat.

  “How is your head?” he asked, and crossed to the sideboard where he picked up a sherry bottle and waved it toward Morgan.

  Morgan nodded and watched his employer pour two glasses. “Better,” he said. “I’m only made slightly more hideous by the experience.”

  “Lucky for that. Being knocked unconscious is nothing to play about with.” Brighthollow handed over Morgan’s glass and sat in the chair across from him. He took a sip of his own drink as he took Morgan in more closely. Too closely.

  “Thank you for your concern, Your Grace,” Morgan said. “But I think you didn’t call me here to speak to me about my condition. I know you have questions about the attack.”

  Brighthollow inclined his head. “I do. My key concern is if my family is in danger. Because it’s…changing.”

  There was something about the way Brighthollow said it that made Morgan sit up a bit straighter. “You are…”

  “The duchess is expecting,” Hugh said, and there was no denying the joy to his expression. “No one knows, not even Lizzie. We planned to announce to her and all our friends before we return to London.”

  “Congratulations,” Morgan said softly, though his mind went to Elizabeth. She would be happy for her brother, he knew. She was incapable of anything but joy for him. But he also worried about her. She put so much blame on herself for the past. Would she feel she could be part of her family’s new future?

  “Thank you. But you can see why my worry is increased.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Morgan sighed. “I’d like to explain.”

  He did so, telling Hugh the same sordid story about Gareth Covington as he had done with Elizabeth. About Robert’s intervention on his behalf in the thwarted duel. Brighthollow’s expression remained impassive through it all. Unreadable. The man seemed an expert at that.

  Morgan sighed when he’d told it all. “I’m not proud of what I did. Or how it was handled afterward. It was evident in my recent interaction with Gareth that he didn’t feel appeased by a payout. He wanted personal vengeance. And I can hardly blame him.”

  Brighthollow got up. “You didn’t know the woman was his lover, so you do not own all the blame.” He ran a hand through his hair. “How can he be dealt with?”

  Morgan stood up, as well. “I’ve thought about that. I know this man. He was once my friend. I owe him what he was denied by my well-meaning brother.”

  Brighthollow’s eyes widened. “A duel? You want to let the man kill you?”

  Morgan gripped the back of the chair he’d just abandoned. Once he’d not thought much of death. Men died young all the time. But now…now he felt like he had something to lose. Something of great worth.

  Even though she wasn’t really his.

  “I-I don’t think Gareth would actually kill me,” he choked. “His honor was damaged. If we met on the field and I owned my part, I think he wouldn’t shoot. And that would end it.”

  Brighthollow ran a hand through his hair. “Your brother will be livid at this option.”

  “And it is not his decision. I never should have allowed him to intervene in the first place.” Morgan shook his head. “I’m a man. It was my situation to create and mine to solve.”

  “Fuck.” Brighthollow muttered beneath his breath. “But I know a bit about well-meaning brothers. Could you find this Covington if you tried?”

  “I think so,” Morgan said slowly. “He came all the way to Brighthollow to manage this. He must be staying close by. A few feelers in the village and I’m certain he could be reached and offered the option to finish what he started.”

  There was a long silence, and he could see Brighthollow was considering this.

  “If Robert will not be your second, I will,” the duke said at last.

  Morgan stared at him, wide eyed with surprise at the offer. “You do not owe me that,” he said. “I wouldn’t be offended if you sacked me.”

  Brighthollow shrugged. “I did consider it. I hired you because of Robert, after all.”

  “I’m sure my brother would understand your position,” Morgan said, straightening and preparing himself for the worst.

  “Only the longer you’ve been here, the more you’ve proven yourself to be bright and capable. You are a good addition to my household. And one I do not regret making…on the whole.”

  Morgan swallowed hard. “On the whole?”

  “Yes.” Brighthollow arched a brow, and discomfort entered his expression. “Lizzie is my only remaining hesitation. I’ve seen you two interact. More to the point, I’ve seen how you look at her.”

  Morgan set his jaw. Every baser instinct inside of him told him to turn to flippancy and distraction to address this issue. Only he wasn’t the same man anymore. It was shocking to realize that fact in this uncomfortable moment looking into the face of his lover’s brother. He didn’t want to dismiss or play or dance around this subject.

  “I understand your hesitance. Even if I were to harbor some…attraction toward your sister, I assure you I know it would have no good end.” He bent his head. “For either of us. I am not good enough for Lady Elizabeth, for a great many reasons.”

  If he had expected Brighthollow to heartily agree with that sentiment, he was surprised that instead the other man looked troubled. “Well,” he said. “I’m glad we’re…apparently of a mind.”

  “Yes,” Morgan said as he got up. Brighthollow extended a hand and they shook. “I’ll reach out and let you know when I’ve heard from Covington. In the meantime, may I hire a few men to watch the house? I will pay for it from my own pocket since this is my doing.”

  “Do hire them,” Brighthollow said. “But I’ll pay.”

  The two men held stares for a moment, then Morgan inclined his head. “Thank you.”

  “Good day, Morgan,” Brighthollow said softly.

  “Good day.” He stepped into the hallway and drew in a sharp breath. He knew what he planned to do was right. A
nd he hoped he was also right about his former friend’s intention if they faced each other honorably.

  But if he was wrong, he would die. An outcome he was not ready for.

  Chapter 18

  It had been two days since Lizzie had made love to Morgan. Two long days where he seemed to be…avoiding her. She tried to tell herself it was because he was resting. That was true. Hugh had certainly given him time to recover from the attack and didn’t seem to be preparing to sack Morgan. So that was at least something.

  But she couldn’t dismiss all his avoidance as due to his injuries, because she knew he was working. She saw him, certainly, in the halls where he simply nodded in acknowledgment as he went back and forth to her brother’s study, papers in hand. And when he joined the party for supper, he sat on the far end of the table and only spoke to her when propriety dictated it.

  Because of all that, she had not dared to go to his room again. Not when he seemed to be so willing to end their affiliation. It had been a one-night experience, it seemed. And she was trying to accept that, even though she wanted so much to slip into his bed and experience that wonderful pleasure all over again. She dreamed of it, waking to find her hands clenched between her legs, rocking against her fingers to find some shadow version of the pleasure he always gave.

  She often found it, but it wasn’t enough.

  She frowned, pushing away those thoughts as she entered the breakfast room. The rest of the party was already there, talking and laughing as they broke bread. Among them was Morgan.

  Heat filled her cheeks as she slipped in and took a place at the table. She managed to say good morning to all those around her, but her gaze kept flitting to him. He was watching her too, over the rim of his coffee cup. She smiled, a wavering expression, she knew. And he hesitated a moment before he returned the smile and gave her just the tiniest peace by doing so.

  The talk of the group continued, though Lizzie focused mostly on her food. And eventually, as they all finished their breakfasts, Katherine leaned away from the table and slid her hand into Robert’s. “I cannot believe we will all return to London in just a few days,” she said. “The time here has flown by.”

  Ewan signed and Charlotte translated, “It has, as time amongst friends always seems to do. This has been an especially lively little gathering.”

  The table laughed in unison. Even Lizzie managed a smile at the quip.

  “It has been that,” Hugh said, and then cast a glance at Amelia. “Perhaps the time has come to tell them.”

  Amelia blushed and nodded, her smile shy as she edged a little closer to Hugh. Lizzie sat up a bit straighter. “Tell us what?” she asked.

  Hugh beamed as he said, “We’ve been trying to find the right time and place to say this for days. Amelia is expecting.”

  Lizzie’s mouth fell open as she stared at her brother and sister-in-law. They were both smiling as the rest of the table burst into joyful congratulations. Everyone rose to hug the happy couple, and Lizzie managed to get to her feet, as well, though her legs were shaking.

  She glanced down the table and found Morgan watching not the others, but her. And he didn’t look surprised by this news. Her ears were ringing as she looked again at Hugh and Amelia.

  There were so many emotions hitting her, she could scarcely parse them out. She was happy for them, of course she was. They had been married for three years and she knew they’d wanted a family for a long time. She was pleased and excited to welcome a new baby into their family.

  But there were other feelings too. Ones that hit her with so much force they nearly knocked her backward. There was fear. Fear for her own future. Fear because the circle would become Hugh and Amelia and their baby and their future babies. Lizzie would have to start to edge outside of the embrace of their family. It was simply mathematics.

  And there was something else too. Something she hated herself for. Jealousy. She stared at her brother, who had raised her and taken care of her and been nothing but kind to her…and she was jealous. Jealous of the life he’d claimed for himself out of suffering. Jealous of the future that glowed out before him while hers felt so…dark.

  “Lizzie?” Amelia said. “You are staring at us like you’ve seen a ghost. Have we shocked you?”

  Lizzie could hear the nervousness in Amelia’s tone and she pushed aside all her tangled thoughts and forced a smile to her face. “I am surprised, but delighted,” she said as she stepped around the table and hugged Amelia and then Hugh. “When will the baby come?”

  “A little while longer,” Amelia said. “In December. There will be no hiding that I am increasing soon enough. But there will be plenty of time to plan. I hope you’ll help me with the nursery, here and in London.”

  “Of course,” Lizzie said, but her own voice felt far away. So far away, and like she was underwater.

  Luckily Katherine and Charlotte rushed forward, and Amelia and Hugh were distracted by cooing duchesses and suggestions for names, as well as potential future matches amongst the children of their friends. Lizzie was able to step back, toward the chamber door. Away from her family.

  She found herself continuing to edge away. Farther and farther. Because she needed a moment. She needed an escape from the powerful feelings she didn’t want to feel. She certainly didn’t want to show them like a spoiled ninny.

  So she turned and slipped from the room as the rest were distracted, racing through the hallway to find a parlor where she could just…breathe. She was three steps away when she heard the footfalls behind her. She knew who it was without looking.

  “Please, just let me be,” she said softly as she stepped into the parlor.

  “Elizabeth,” Morgan’s voice came, gentle but insistent. She moved to shut the door on him, but he caught it.

  She pivoted away. “Please!” she repeated. “Just let me have a moment.”

  She was going to walk to the fire, but he caught her upper arm gently and tugged her back. Toward his warmth. Toward his gentle support. Toward everything she wanted and was trying to remind herself she couldn’t have. And it made all her dark feelings worse, not better.

  She stared up into his face and saw the future she wouldn’t be allowed. It all hurt more. She almost hated him for it.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered, and then he bent his head and his lips brushed hers.

  Dark thoughts filtered away, dissipating in the air as she leaned into the thing she wanted and couldn’t have. Leaned into his embrace and let herself have his comfort, if only for a moment. And it was only a moment, because he parted from her and moved away a long step.

  “Morgan,” she whispered. “This is not your burden. Just go back to the celebration and let me have a moment.”

  “It may not be my burden, but I see it,” he said. “I see what you feel, Elizabeth. As plain as if your heart were mine.”

  She flinched at his choice of words. As if his heart were hers? He wouldn’t let it be. “You don’t know,” she snapped, a little harsher than she had intended as she walked away from him.

  He sighed. “Your closest friend and companion has been your brother for as long as you can recall,” he said softly. His words were gentle but still pointed blades against her heart. “When he married Amelia, you thought things might change. They did, but you adore her like a sister and you settled into your new life. But now…a baby is coming. Their family will change. There won’t be as much space in it, you know that. Where will your place be?”

  She was taken off guard by how succinctly he had laid out her feelings. Hearing them out loud made them feel even worse. “I know how much they want this. I’ve wanted it for them. I’m horrible to feel even an inkling of something that isn’t joy.”

  His brow wrinkled. “You aren’t. You’re just…changing. You want to find a place in this world and this makes you realize that it isn’t in these walls, not forever. How could you not feel conflicted about that?”

  She stared at him, loving him and wanting him to love her back. “If my
place isn’t here, then where is it, Morgan?”

  “Elizabeth.” His expression shifted, turned pained as he glanced away from her. And her heart broke.

  “Not with you,” she whispered. “You are too cowardly to say it. You hide from me so you won’t have to say it, but you want me to understand that my future could never be with you.”

  His lips parted. “You already know it can’t. I don’t have to tell you, do I?”

  She folded her arms, trying to raise a shield even though he’d already vaulted over her walls and pillaged everything of value inside of her. “How long have you known about Amelia?”

  His jaw set and he shrugged one shoulder. “Since Brighthollow took me aside the afternoon after the attack. A couple of days.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t even think to tell me. To warn me so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “It…it wasn’t my place,” he insisted. “We aren’t—”

  “We aren’t what?” she interrupted, moving toward him, her chin lifted in defiance she wished she felt in her heart. “Say to me what we aren’t.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I’m—I’m going to fight a duel, Elizabeth.”

  She caught her breath and staggered backward, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as his words sank in. “What are you saying? What do you mean?”

  “I know I did the wrong thing when it came to Gareth,” he said softly. “He wanted to settle it in one way a year ago, but he was denied that. It’s made him dangerous. So, I’ve reached out to him and he has agreed to meet me on the field…tomorrow at dawn.”

  Lizzie blinked up at him, willing this to be a dream. A nightmare. A fuzzy, nasty hallucination brought on by something she ate. But it wasn’t. Morgan was standing in front of her. And he was saying he would die for honor, that he refused to live for himself. For her.

  She wanted to find the words to stop this. To fight him. But before she could put them together, Robert’s voice came from the doorway behind them.