her books—“this I cared about. This is what would have made me turn you out on your pretty arse and send you on to Gentleman Jackson’s. Instead, you tricked me with the intention of stealing lessons that you’d pass on to others.”
“I didn’t intend to start this venture,” she entreated. “The idea of it . . . of us, doing this, only just came to me.”
Only, he didn’t hear her.
Hugh’s fingers cupped her cheek in a mockery of a lover’s caress; his work-hardened hands, callused from life and fighting, turned her face so their eyes met; his stare was one that compelled her to run and hide and also to never look away from him. That heavy blue with a rim of black around it, the sky before a storm. But then, every moment with Hugh Savage had been like chasing and trying to bottle lightning. “That is why I don’t deal with the nobility. They have soft lives and know nothing about surviving. They don’t care about the suffering around them. They don’t care about how the other half struggles. All they care about is themselves.” Each word was a lash. “And you only proved that, Lila.” He gave his head a sad shake. “You intended to take something from me that I didn’t wish to give, Lila March. Stealing it as surely as a thief picks a pocket.”
She stood here, as entranced by him as she’d been from the moment she’d seen him outside Savage’s. And he seemed to feel nothing more than a keen loathing. Sentiments she was entirely deserving of, and yet, knowing that did nothing to chase away the ache of regret. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than I’ve treated you, and far more than your partners have ever given you.”
He blinked, her words clearly not what he’d been expecting, and it sent hope springing to her breast.
For mayhap if she shared what had brought her to him, then he might understand, and . . .
Then you’ll become Peterloo to the last person to only see and know you as Lila March . . .
She didn’t want him that way. She didn’t want to use pity to erase his fury or explain away her lies.
And yet, she wanted him to understand more . . .
In the end, the decision was taken from her.
There came the distinct tread of quick footfalls. As one, she and Hugh looked to the door.
“Lila?” Her sister’s voice reached through the panel. “Is everything all right? A servant thought she heard you cry out.” The handle jiggled. “Lila?” her sister repeated, a greater urgency in that question.
Her heart lurched. Bloody hell. “I’m fine. I . . . I was singing.”
“Will you open the door?”
“In a moment.” Looking back at the man before her, Lila tipped her chin up. “I’m sorry, Hugh,” she repeated, this time in hushed tones meant solely for his ears. “But I’m not going to change my course. There is nothing wrong in what I intend. There is only right, and if you weren’t so blinded by your hatred for what you do, you’d see that, too.”
And the moment the last word left her mouth, Lila knew she’d lost him.
His features hardened, transforming those chiseled planes into a mask she didn’t recognize.
“I’ll have mine for the lessons you stole,” he whispered. “We’re not done.”
It was a vow that sent shivers down her spine.
Lila blinked, and there was a rush of air.
And when she opened her eyes, he was gone.
Chapter 19
He’d been a fool—a bloody fool.
He’d trusted, when life’s hardest, first lesson dealt to a boy in the rough streets of the Dials was to trust no one. Against his best judgment, against all logic and reason, and worse . . . he’d done so against the wishes of the two men to whom he owed his unfaltering loyalty.
And all because he’d had a fleeting moment of pity, a desire to help a woman who’d so desperately sought his aid.
She’d sought it so badly that she’d gone and lied to him.
Ruthless was what they were. Lords, ladies, fine gents. They thought nothing of taking from those outside their social sphere, mowing them down even to get what they wanted.
Storming through the doors of the empty arena, he found his partners in the middle of the ring, conversing with an unfamiliar stranger.
Well dressed, the burly man looked as comfortable as Hugh expected he’d feel in those miserable garments.
Hugh ground his teeth together hard enough to send ripples of pain up