Page 106 of Outrageous

“Do you even have the capacity to feel shame at what you’ve done?”

Godric sighed. “Is that what you came to talk about? My defective character? You’ll need more than a minute for that.”

“Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?” Byer slammed the untouched glass down on the nearest table. His expression of pure dislike should have looked foolish on his tired, dust-smudged face, but his filthy, wrinkled appearance somehow made his loathing all the more potent.

Godric found the sight of Byer’s dishevelment interesting. The man was a notorious dandy who’d always paid more attention to his wardrobe than most women did. Also, Byer was famous for his torpid temperament. Indeed, it had been difficult most of the time to believe Byer had a pulse. And yet here he was, positively deranged with jealousy. He’d been smitten by his best friend’s sister, who apparently viewed him as nothing more than a brother—if her reaction to him earlier was anything to go by. Lord, how that must sting.

Godric felt a pang of sympathy for the other man, although he doubted Byer would appreciate his voicing that sentiment.

“Do you really need to ruin her life? Just let her go.” Byer’s tone was rough and rude, but Godric could hear the pleading tone beneath the command. “You don’t really want her—her blood would sully the great house of Tyndale. And you’ve never done anything but insult her, so I know you can’t actually like—not to mention love—her. You wanted to kill her brother and abduct her dearest friend. All of that adds up to your being a disaster of a husband for her. And I’ve not even begun to take into consideration the disaster that is you. Your outrageous behavior this past Season was that of a dangerous wastrel, and your infamous whoring—particularly with other men’s wives—and the low, wretched company you keep, all point toward a life that will end in violence sooner rather than later. You don’t want a wife, Visel, and you wouldn’t know how to do right by one if you had one. So let her marry a man who will love and protect her. A man she might actually come to love.”

“Who would that be?” Godric teased with a mocking grin. “You, I suppose? Indeed, she likely loves you already—how could she not as you are such a self-proclaimed paragon of masculine perfection.”

Byer’s pale, sharp cheeks tinted and he gritted his jaws so hard Godric was amazed that steam didn’t come out of his ears. He knew he should stop teasing the man, but the truth was he found Byer’s insistence on knowing what was best for Eva insulting and irritating.

So, your pride has been stepped on, rather than any feelings you might have for her?

Godric ignored the annoying inner voice, a skill born of decades of practice. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the man across from him, who appeared to be on the verge of flying apart. He tossed back the remains of his drink and set it down on the table before standing, the action bringing them to within a foot of each other.

“Tell me, Byer, aside from your wardrobe and unreciprocated love, just what do you have to offer her?”

“She might not love me—yet—but at least I would give her children and a family.” Byer sneered. “Will you? Answer me honestly. Are you even capable of having feelings for someone other than yourself? I’m not saying that you were always like this, but I think we both know you are not the same man you were before the war. You are useless for anything other than killing and war. You’re an empty husk of a man with nothing but revenge fantasies to keep you waking up each morning.”

Godric’s jaw had sagged slightly at the other man’s audacity. He was about to tell him what he could do with his interfering ways when a slight movement caught his eye: the connecting door to Eva’s room had been eased opened. It was so small a crack that he wouldn’t have noticed it if he’d not actually been looking in that direction. Godric doubted the person on the other side could actually see him or Byer, but they’d be able to hear every word. There was only one person he could think of who would be listening.

Now is your chance to do one good thing for her. Byer might be a puffed up fop, but he is right about one thing: any other man in the country would be better for her than you will be. It might cause a moment of pain, but you could ensure she makes the correct choice with only one small utterance. Say it, Godric.

For once, the voice was not mocking.

“She told me she didn’t wish for children,” Godric blurted, ignoring the sound mental advice he’d just received.

Byer gave an ugly laugh. “Well, she would, wouldn’t she? After all, you’ve made it plain all Season—to all of London—what you think of her bloodline. She’s hardly going to tell you the truth.”

Godric felt his face get hot, all the more so because the other man was right. He’d behaved like a pig and had no defense for it. And what Byer didn’t know was that he’d continued to let her believe the same lie even while engaging in bed sport with her these past few days.

Godric opened his mouth to dispute the ridiculous claims, as he should have done days ago.

But then Byer said, “Even if mistakes were made or you actually condescended to give her children, you would never love them, would you?”

Carl’s face rose up in his mind as it had looked the last time Godric had seen it: cold, pale, and lifeless. He expected to feel the familiar, gut-wrenching pain, but instead, he felt nothing: he was as dead inside as the son he’d left buried a continent away.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? Or will you just wantonly ruin her life as you tried to do to her brother and friend? Or perhaps she was next on your list for revenge?”

Godric met the other man’s furious eyes. Behind Byer’s rage, there was fear and hurt: he loved Eva with all his heart and he was fighting for her.

He was fighting as Godric should be fighting—if he loved Eva.

If you loved her.

Godric swallowed the bile that almost choked him and summoned the hard, cold, supercilious smile that had been his mask every day of this past Season. “You’ve uttered a home truth, Byer: I don’t want children.” His gaze flickered across the cracked door, and then he took another breath and said the only thing he deserved to say, “And even if I did wish for children, I’d not want mad ones.”

Godric could have ducked Byer’s fist, or guarded against the hit, but he stood still and let the man knock him on his ass.

His head rang as he lay on his back and smiled bitterly at the ancient beams holding up the ceiling, waiting for more punishment—hoping for it.

But the other man was looking down on him with disgust, as if he’d not even soil his boot by kicking him.

Godric didn’t blame him. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “If you believe she will have you, Byer, then I will gladly step aside. If she wishes to wed you, I shall shower you with rose petals and do my part to make sure this entire incident never sees the light of day. How’s that for an offer, Byer?”