.
Morgan wondered if he could feel lower than he had earlier that day and the answer became a resounding yes as he looked into the blatant fear in Philomena’s brilliant blue eyes. Her body was trembling, and she stared at him as though he were the very thing he’d been hunting through his entire career as a spy for England.
A villain. Something dark and evil.
He hated it. He’d fought all his life to not be that thing, to try and reduce the cold that people like his parents put into the world, fighting for what was right, aiding where he could. He was a man who abhorred violence to women—assassins and spies who tried to poison his food aside. What had he been thinking when he’d said what he had to her?
He knew the answer. He’d taken one look at her and seen Creed.
But was it fair to assume she was in on his every plan? What if she was like the some of his other workers who moved without ever knowing what they were moving toward and for whom? He knew nothing about her relationship to Creed. He didn’t even know if they spoke. She was not related to him by blood. All he knew was that Creed owned her hotel.
But what if she’d not known about the rats? It was a possibility. He thought it weak, but it was still there.
It was there in the way he frightened her, like she’d never seen a crime committed before, as though she were the innocent that Society wished her to be.
If she was, then he was the worst sort of man there was, but if she wasn’t… he would still have to marry her. He remembered what Hiram had told him. His mother’s choice would have to be recognized and accepted, as was the oath his father had placed on his heir. Yet now there was a possibility that he’d broken it. Philomena didn’t want him anymore.
What was he going to do?
He had to tell her as much of the truth as he could and prayed she wouldn’t ask him more questions than he could answer. “Lady Philomena, you’re right. I did know who you were and that was what made me angry.”
“Why?” The question seemed to come from the depths of her, as though she truly needed the answer, as though she had no clue as to who he was.
Had Creed truly not told her to whom she was betrothed?
“I know you’re Creed’s ward,” he told her plainly.
Surprise lit her eyes and she asked, “How did you find that out? Uncle Creed said it was a secret.”
Uncle Creed. Well, if Morgan had any hopes that they were not in contact with one another, that died. “I thought you’d come to my office for nefarious reasons,” he finally said. “On behalf of your… uncle. But now that I know you did not, I swear to you I will never hurt you.” If she turned out to be a bad person in the end, he’d simply have her arrested.
Philomena blinked and her shoulders fell as most of her fear left her body and was replaced by disbelief. “Please, tell me you’re not being serious.”
“I am.”
She gasped, her perfectly pink lips parting to form an ‘O’. “I can’t believe this. You believe the gossip rags as well? I thought a man of your station would at least be able to tell the truth from the lies. Uncle Creed is not a criminal.”
Morgan laughed. Her statement was surely the funniest thing he’d heard in a very long time. “Lady Philomena, your uncle runs all the crime in the city.”
Philomena shook her head, and Morgan started laughing again when he saw her newest expression: Pity. For him. “Uncle Creed is a good man.”
“He’s no better than swine.”
The shock on her face wiped the laughter from his body. He was beginning to hate disappointing her.
“How could you say that?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You don’t even know him.”
Morgan leaned toward her and stared into her eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, searching for the lie, but all he found was starlight blue eyes staring back at him with open wonder.
“Lady Philomena, I believe you’re the one who doesn’t know Mr. Creed.”
Philomena’s eyes grew sad again. “Well, then it doesn’t matter why you were upset with me over an hour ago. I still can’t marry you. I can’t marry someone who would think such a thing about a man who was a close friend of my father’s.”
“Your father was close to him?” Morgan asked as he realized Philomena might be the clue they’d been looking for.
She shrugged a dainty shoulder. “I don’t know. I mean, I’d never seen him until after my father’s death, but surely they had to have been or why else would my father have left him the hotel?”
Oh, there were many reasons one would give a criminal their worldly possessions. Debt. Blackmail. Threats of bodily harm, just to name a few.
Staring at Philomena, Morgan began to pity her. She had no clue who Creed was and lived in a world with few villains if she thought him the bad guy. She lived in a den of wolves and didn’t even know it. Leaving her to the fate that would befall her seemed wrong. He already had to marry her to keep his father’s oath, but he wanted to do so to protect her because one way or another, Creed was going to at the very least spend the rest of his life in prison.
He reached out to touch her, and she shrank back again. He dropped his hand and truly looked her over.
She was beautiful but young, only twenty and one, which made him eight years older than her at twenty-nine. He wasn’t usually attracted to women so naïve in so many ways and would have easily dismissed her if the rest of her was just as innocent. She was young but very much a woman. Marriage to her, at least in bed, would be no hardship.
He would have to find a way to ensure she never found out his secret, however. At least, not until Creed was dead. That would be hard, since the wives of the other three members of the O.S.S. knew exactly who the men were and how to keep a secret.
“Lady Philomena, I’ve not been myself today. If you would allow it, I’d like to court you properly.”
“No. You don’t like my uncle.” She looked much stronger now, which he liked much more than the fear, even with her refusal. This was much better. She lifted her chin as she held his eyes. “Consider our engagement broken.” She started toward the door.
“Wait.” He caught up with her and took her hand.
She turned and tried to snatch it back, but he wouldn’t let her. He waited for the fear to return to her eyes because if it did, he would release her, but after a few seconds more, when all he saw was more anger, he tightened his hold on her hand.
“If you can prove to me that your uncle is innocent, I will concede. For now, let us simply focus on us. Allow me to court you. Let us get to know one another. Let us see if we might find ourselves in agreement to the match in the end.” And he would do what must be done to ensure it.
Philomena frowned. “How do I prove him innocent? That’s impossible.”
He shrugged. “Still, if you find a way to do so, I’ll welcome Creed into our family with open arms.”
Her eyes widened. “Our family?” The words were said with a great breath. He could hear the wish in them and knew it had little to do with him in particular. She obviously wanted a family. The thought of a family made her smile. That, he liked more than anything else he’d learned about her. He didn’t wish to live the way he had with his parents. He wanted warmth and though he and Philomena were not a love match, he’d seen it grow more than once over time between couples.
But first, he had to get her down the aisle.
“Let me court you,” he said in a hushed tone.
Her eyes, though they’d never actually left him, resettled in a way that told him she’d not been truly looking at him before and now she was. He was close enough to feel her faint breaths, heard it slightly catch before she said, “But we don’t have the time to properly court. Our engagement party is in two days.”
With his free hand, he touched her cheek and watched color fill her cheeks before saying, “Then we’ll need to spend every waking hour together until then.” It would be hard, he knew. He still had other duties to attend to. He needed to meet with the O.S.S. and deliver the other letter to Wardington, which was something he wasn’t looking forward to.
But Philomena was important. He had a duty to fulfill and through her, he was fulfilling it.
That thought didn’t displease him as he thought of all the other ways she’d fulfill her duties as his wife.
He was momentarily speechless when he realized a fact he never thought possible.
He beginning to want the woman his mother had chosen. “Impossible.”
“How very strange.”
They’d spoken at the same time and both stilled after realizing they had.
He had no idea what Philomena had been thinking, but the creases that formed between her brow proved she’d be a challenge.
“No,” she said with finality. “It wouldn’t work.”
He wanted to curse, but instead let go of her chin and touched her shoulder while he thought of a way to change her mind.
He could only think of one. “Give me two days, and if you still decide that you’d rather not marry, I will do everything within my power to see that your name goes unstained if you still wish for the engagement’s end.”
Her eyes lit from within, and he wanted to touch her face again and find out if that light made her skin equally warm.
What he’d offered her worked in her favor and they both knew it. If not, once she walked out that door, she’d have to suffer the life of spinsterhood.
“Two days,” she whispered before taking the steps needed to be out of his touch. “Then I’ll decide.”
He grinned. The only decision she’d be making in two days would be which flowers she wished at the wedding.
He would see to it.