Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
• • •
London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Because her legs were weak with anxiousness, Maeve made her way to the bench, avoiding Lucian's inquisitive gaze.
After what he'd just told her, she had to tell him her heavy secret. If truly nothing could ever make him regret marrying her, he wouldn't change his mind upon hearing what she had to say. For her own conscience, for her peace of mind, she refused to start their married life with this lie between them.
Although she was relatively confident Lucian would take it well, she couldn't help but feel terrible about breaking the promise she'd just made to Ailia. Blood pacts were sacred between them, and Maeve had never broken one before. The fact that Ailia had been the first one to break one was somehow reassuring to Maeve. Since her sister had changed her mind about going to live in Dorset together, to get a husband instead, it was only fair Maeve would also break a pact. It would make them even.
She sat on the wooden bench, the one he'd found her in almost exactly three months ago, and he joined her. Angled toward her, Lucian took her trembling hands in his steady, warm ones, and bent to catch her evasive gaze with his.
"Maeve, what is going on? Is there anything wrong?" She shook her head, swallowing away the lump caught in her throat. "Is it about the wedding? Have you changed your mind?"
"No, never. I still very much want to marry you."
She could see how reassured he was by her answer, and it made her feel bad for letting him worry so much. Letting go of one of her hands, he gently pressed his index under her chin, forcing her head up.
"What is it, darling? Tell me."
"I'm so sorry, Lucian. I should have spoken to you about this earlier. Before you talked with Delawney, before you made your official demand for my hand to my father." Now, he seemed properly worried, his green eyes exuding confusion and doubt. "I've never... I've never told anyone this. Aside from some members of my family and a handful of people, no one has ever been privy to this information. Even Anita doesn't know. I need your word that you won't speak of it to anyone."
Lucian took a few seconds to register her words, grasping the severity of the moment. "I won't, I promise," he eventually agreed. Maeve could see how much he meant it, hear the honesty in his voice.
A trembling breath later, she forced herself to look him in the eye. "It concerns my birth and my parents."
Before she could continue, she noticed the intense reflection going on in Lucian's mind. She could practically hear the gears running in his skull, and when he spoke, what he said made her breath catch in her throat.
"The duke is your natural father."
Stunned, Maeve stared at him with round eyes, wondering how on earth he'd guessed something no one else had before. "How did you know?"
"I didn't. Not until now, at least. But I've spotted the resemblance. You have his eyes."
She nodded, still amazed he could have noticed. He was a rather perceptive man, so it shouldn't have shocked her. But still, knowing that one more person knew of her secret was disturbing.
