Page 26 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

“I thought I loved her. We were to marry when we returned from our time abroad. But, when I informed her that I needed to return to my family, she told me if I left her alone on the continent our relationship was over. She was not alone though because her parents traveled with us. Still, I begged her to come with me, but she wanted nothing to do with my family. Not that I blame her. My family is a handful.”

Josie wrinkled her nose. “Lydia sounds terrible. But I believe I would favor your sister.”

Lydia was not terrible; however, she was a bit spoiled. But he didn’t want to talk about her anymore. “Bridget would adore you.”

“I am sorry about your brother’s death,” she whispered. “How terribly tragic.”

He swallowed his grief and stoically met her empathetic gaze.

“Is that why you don’t imbibe?” she asked.

“Mostly.” His words stuck in his throat for a moment before words cascaded forth like an out-of-control waterfall. “Every Earl of Shiredale has succumbed to the familial madness. Many say we are cursed.” He tapped the table with his index finger. “But I believe my forefathers have all been prisoners to excessive drink.”

She gasped.

Had he told her too much?

“How old are you, Nicolas?” she asked.

“Four and twenty.”

She frowned. “Four and twenty with the weight of the world on your shoulders. ’Tis so unfair.”

But he didn’t want her pity. Which begged the question, whatdidhe want from Josephine Martin?

The answer came to him easily enough. He wanted her respect, her body, and her heart. What would she say if he asked her to be his mistress?

But you have nothing to offer her,his inner voice chided.

Although he didn’t believe in curses, he had inherited his ancestor’s ill luck. Hell, he couldn’t even care for his earldom and his family unless Josie saved him by marrying someone who would never marry her.

“Have you had enough to eat?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Why don’t you return to your chamber, and I will clean up,” he said.

“I can help you.”

“No!” It wasn’t that he didn’t want her company, but he needed time to think. Besides, if he was in her presence much longer, he mighttake her into his arms and kiss those tantalizing lips. “You have etiquette and dance lessons again tomorrow. You rest. I will take care of this.”

She stood and walked to the door. Fighting his urge to watch her stroll away, he focused on putting the leftover biscuits in their tin.

“Nicolas,” she said.

He looked up from his task.

“Thank you. ’Twas the best midnight meal I’ve ever eaten.”

It was definitely the best company he’d had during one of his late-night warm-milk escapades. “My pleasure.”

“And thank you for sharing your story with me. I’m sorry I have been such a termagant. You did not deserve my wrath. I’ll see you tomorrow when we break our fast. Well, while you and Jonathon break your fasts, and Agatha and I take a few nibbles and play with our food.”

The door closed behind her.

Damnations. She was remarkable. It was not lost on him that as she’d warmed to him, that her speech became more proper—almost as if she was working extra hard to please him. If she continued to be this kind to him, he’d give her the world.

He sighed. If only he had even a small piece—of anything—to offer her.