Page 75 of Brigand

“Four?”

“Indeed.”

Walsham scrubbed with a handkerchief. “You will have to come’round for dinner. Meet them. We need to talk. I would…very much like tohear…about her.”

Ewan nodded. “I will.”

The man thrust out a hand and they shook once more, but thenwithout warning, he pulled Ewan into a desperate hug. His body quaked with theweight of his sobs but Ewan didn’t push him away. There were tears in Robin’seyes as well.

At long last, Walsham gained control of himself and pulledback, dabbing at the wet spot on Ewan’s coat in a fruitless attempt to wipe hisanguish away. He tipped up his chin and sucked in a fortifying breath. “Pleasetell me she had a happy life.”

Ewan swallowed. It took everything in him to nod. “Yes,” hecroaked. “A very happy life.”

It was the nicest lie he ever told.

* * * * *

Though he wanted nothing more than to stay with Lord Walshamand his son, to continue their conversation, the emotions assailing him werefar too poignant. He could hardly bear to look at the man.

Tomorrow would be better for a lengthy chat.

And Violet was waiting for him.

In the library.

For her proposal.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside and froze.

Oh, Violet was there.

In another man’s arms.

He had his mouth on her face.

Rage boiled through him. A red tide descended. The urge tokill possessed him.

At his entrance, Dittenham spun around, still holding Violetclose. Far too close. Dangerously close. The fop’s eyes went wide. “Oh dear,”he simpered. “We’ve been caught kissing in the library, my dear. It appearsyou’ll have to marry me after all.”

“The fuck she will.” Ewan stormed toward them, glowering atthe bastard as he approached.

Dittenham wilted.

And then he fell. Probably because Ewan’s fist—completely ofits own accord, mind you—plowed into the bridge of his nose, right between histwo piggy eyes.

He turned to Violet in a rage. “You’re not fucking marryinghim.”

“I didn’t intend to.”

“You were kissing him!”

“He was kissing me. I was fighting him off.”

He could barely hear her through the rushing in his ears.

He’d had enough. E-goddamn-nuf.

She was his. He loved her. No one else was having her.