Every inch of him was acutely aware of every inch of her. Lettie’s soft curves to his hard, unforgiving hulk. They should not fit so well together. He should not be holding her now, smelling the scent of vanilla soap on her short hair and dreaming of never letting her go.

All the while, he suspected she thought of another man. Wished to be embraced by him, not Daniel. Longed to smell Gregory’s scent rather than the sandalwood Daniel favored.

Why was he so willing to take any little bit of closeness she offered? Even this intimacy, knowing it was another she desired. Besides, Daniel wasn’t in need of solace; it was Lettie who’d experienced a harsh blow. He should be giving her comfort, but instead, he couldn’t think past the idea of tilting her chin up to accept his kiss.

Too soon, she pulled from his embrace, or was it Daniel whose arms fell to his sides first?

“I am sorry, I did not mean—“ Lettie started, retreating behind her stool. “It is, well, I have been so lost since Gregory died.”

He held up his hand to stop her words. She’d thought of Gregory when embracing him, that much he’d known, but he could not handle her saying it aloud.

He’d spent years thinking of her, imagining her; so much that he did not want to be faced with the reality that she hadn’t been doing the same.

Her eyes narrowed once more when he resumed his seat on the stool. “You have learned all about me. Now, what has happened to you since my departure? You seem oddly…changed.”

The shift in topic pleased him—anything to banish thoughts of her dead husband, though speaking of himself had never been pleasurable for Daniel. Maybe with Lettie, it would be. They’d kept so much from one another in their youth: her falling in love with another, and his devastation over losing his parents. He’d pushed her so far away, he hadn’t even noticed that losing her had sent him completely over the edge and into utter debauchery. It had been either find solace in booze, gaming, and brothels, or cry himself into oblivion, alone.

But how much to share with Lettie? Never would he want her to feel responsible for the life he’d chosen.

“I am older and settled into my place as a duke. When called ‘Linwood,’ I no longer feel the need to search for my father,” he said, not admitting that it had only been the past several months that he’d taken his position seriously. He could never tell her how far he’d fallen in his rakehell ways. Never would he admit that the day she’d married Gregory, he’d found comfort in a bottle of scotch and the willing arms of several strumpets. “After you left, and with both my parents gone, I needed time to adjust.”

“And you have, from what my father has said.” Lettie relented and sat back down but made no move to face him directly. “I do not expect you to forgive me for running off with Gregory, but I loved him very much.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Still love him with every ounce of feeling left within me.”

“There is no need to explain,” he replied. “I told you then as I said today, I will never pressure you into anything, whether that me a betrothal or sampling a bite of snail.”

She laughed, but it held no depth.

“Yes, I very much appreciate that, though I wanted you to know that what Gregory and I shared, no matter how brief our marriage lasted, was real. Deep. A love like that only comes once in a lifetime.”

A love he could have shared with Lettie, except he’d been a fool. He’d allowed distance between them, bottled his emotional state, and caused her to run into the arms of another man. A man who’d been more than willing to give her the love and attention she deserved. A love that Daniel hadn’t been capable of then.

“I plan to hold that love close, for it must last the rest of my days.” She placed her hand on her heart, and her eyes drifted shut for a brief moment. Daniel wondered who she saw when she did, but her next words made it all clear. “It was you who allowed me to experience true love and passion. And for that, I will always be grateful.”

Lettie only saw Gregory. A war hero.

A man who’d been brave enough to not only claim Lettie as his wife but also give up his life for others on a battlefield.

Daniel held no hope of ever comparing to him.

He hadn’t even been man enough to step forward and save that street urchin from Lord Gable’s cruel hands. He glanced to the pies cooling in the open window, the kitchen servants working beyond in the garden, and guilt flooded him once more.

Lord and Lady Percival had been wrong to set their sights on Daniel as a match for their daughter. She was too noble, too generous, and far too pure for him.

He was a scoundrel, a rakehell, and a debauched man.

Had been.

The thought swirled around his musings.

But, in Daniel’s experience, a man was who he was. Ultimate change was impossible.

He’d given up on himself and any future he could have shared with Lettie. That she’d returned a widow did not change anything.

And that thought only brought him to his feet with a hasty farewell and a whispered, “Good evening.”

A bottle of scotch and a loud, distracting crowd called to him as he bolted from Carrolton Hall. If she called for him as he fled, Daniel didn’t hear her.