Page 56 of Brigand

Three long months.

He could handle it, he supposed.

He would.

For Sophia.

He glanced across at her and his heart clenched. She wasworth everything. Every discomfort. Every humiliation. Every sacrifice.

Why the vision of Violet Wyeth—soft and fragile and lollingin his bed—popped into his mind just then, he did not dare contemplate. Itwasn’t as though he had sacrificed a future with Violet to gain this boon forSophia.

There had never been a future with Violet to sacrifice.

He hadn’t made a choice. He’d never had a choice.

He was, simply put, not good enough for her. And after whathad passed between them, she had every right to deplore him.

He’d spent the last month putting her from his mind. It wastime to put the past—and his feelings for Violet—behind him and move on. He’dspent a lifetime building a fortune and creating connections and scrabbling forSophia’s future. The next three months would be critical for her. Ewan couldn’tafford to be distracted by jet-black curls or indigo eyes. He needed to focuson Sophia.

When he’d picked his sister up at Lady Satterlee’s, he’dbeen poleaxed by the difference in her. She was all grown up. It seemed she’dturned from a wild Scottish hoyden into a refined British woman in the space oftwo years.

Though her enthusiasm for adventure had not dimmed. Evennow, she practically hung out the window. Every now and then she would spot afamous sight and call it out and her face would glow.

She’d been a little perturbed to learn she would be stayingwith Moncrieff at Wyeth House—the Dark Duke’s reputation was something of alegend in Lady Satterlee’s hallowed halls. But now that Edward was married—andto a Scot and, apparently, one of Sophia’s school friends—she was lookingforward to it.

Ewan hadn’t known Kaitlin had attended Lady Satterlee’s. Hehoped the new duchess could overlook their unpleasant past and treat his sisterwell. He couldn’t bear the thought of waspish tongues turned in her direction.

Sophia didn’t deserve to suffer for his sins.

The carriage turned down a broad avenue and rolled to a stopin a curved drive before an enormous mansion.

Ewan’s pulse kicked up a notch. His throat went dry.

Well. This was it. This was where he discovered whether ornot Moncrieff was a man of his word.

He goddamn better be.

He clenched his fingers into a fist and then, when herealized he had, deliberately forced them to relax. He’d sent a missive withtheir arrival plans in good time for Edward to cry off. Make some lame excuse.Or simply tell him to go to hell.

Ewan had held the man’s cousin in his dungeon after all.Debauched her. Fallen head over heels for her. Surely she had told the dukeeverything by now.

Well, perhaps not everything.

At any rate, Moncrieff would be well within his rights torefuse them entrance.

So Ewan had cause to sweat.

And if he was being honest, a great portion of his anxietystemmed from the fact that finally, after one full month of aching hell, he wasgoing to see her again.

He wouldn’t be able to touch her, not as he wanted to. Hecertainly would not be allowed to speak to her alone—society had very stringentrules for unmarried women. Ewan had no illusions about that.

But surely it would be enough just to see her face.

Chapter Fifteen

He was wrong.

It wasn’t enough to see her face. Not in the slightest.