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Briar nodded, and took a deep breath before saying through a false smile. “No more than anyone would miss their parents, I guess.”

I nodded. “I…I understand.”

“You can’t?—”

“No, really, I get it,” I said quietly. “I…I lost my parents ten years ago. Carriage accident.”

I hadn’t meant to tell her. I didn’t like to talk about it. But she’d been so open, she deserved something from me, didn’t she?

She was staring. “Truthfully—the same as mine?”

I shrugged. “Yes.”

“You must miss them.”

What was I supposed to say to that? Yes, of course I did. They were my parents. But it had been so long now, I tried not to think of them.

Thankfully, Briar was still speaking.

“They believed in me, and when they were gone, it was like everyone in the world had gone who actually thought I could do something with my life,” Briar said, her confession tinged with pain. “I know it probably sounds foolish, but?—”

“It doesn’t sound stupid,” I said, my throat dry. “It makes total sense.”

And it explained why Briar had been so frustrated when I hadn’t even bothered to turn up to the first meeting.

Why my attitude toward family, toward my friends must surely rub her up the wrong way.

Why she must have looked at me and Lilah, basically ignoring each other, and wondered what on earth we were doing.

Here I was, estranged from the only family I had left. And she had no one.

“No wonder you have a frustration around being taken seriously,” I said in what I hoped was an upbeat tone. “Though I'm sure you’re mistaken about those advisors of yours. I'm sure some of them?—”

“One of them tried to explain that France had a different currency to England,” Briar said with a laugh. “You think they believe I can make decisions about important investments?”

I had to laugh at that. “Probably not.”

My gaze raked over her. Yes, she was beautiful, but she was more than that.

Strong. How many people lose their parents as young as her and keep going?

She could have become a recluse or spent all her fortune.

Yet here she was, teaching herself accounts and wondering whether to open international franchises of restaurants.

What was it that drove this woman? A need to prove herself? A desire to live out all the dreams that her parents never did?

And why was I finding it so difficult to just…ask her?

“I envy you.”

I laughed, assuming Briar had to be jesting. I saw her expression. “Don’t envy me.”

“Peregrine, you have everything that I want,” Briar said, leaning so close to me her knees touched mine. Thank God I was wearing breeches of a thicker weight of wool.

“You cannot be serious,” I said, tasting the tension in my mouth.

“You have money, but you don’t have any responsibility anymore,” she pointed out, as though that was something to celebrate. “You have family! You have choices, freedom. I have…the trust. The advisors. And no one.”

I hesitated. It wasn’t in my nature to be vulnerable. It wasn’t a Markham habit, and I had always done well in business because of it.

But this wasn’t business. For all Briar talked about how this was payback, that this was strictly a business relationship…well, I’d never had anyone be this open, this vulnerable with me before.

It seemed to…to demand more of me.

“I have family, but they’re not speaking to me,” I said with a dry laugh. “You saw Lilah.”

“She spoke to you?—”

“Barely.” I tried not to think about the way we’d once been. God, I missed them. I’d never said it aloud, but I missed hanging out with my friends. All of them. Even Kineallen, the permanent killjoy. “And I don’t have any responsibility because no one trusts me with it.”

“Peregrine—”

“And rightly so,” I said, trying to keep my head high. “I was lousy with it. I shouldn’t be trusted.”

Briar looked deep into my eyes, and her smile was hesitant but warm. “I trust you.”

Something lurched in my chest. Desire, greed, lust—something more. Hope. A need to be trusted, to be loved.

I pushed it all aside. I needed to get my life back on track, not lose my heart to some woman.

“You shouldn’t,” I said quietly. “I'm…I'm completely out of funds, Briar. I don’t have money, I’ve spent it all.”

She blinked. “But—the townhouse where I found you?—”

“Rented. Well, I say rented. Is a place rented if you haven’t paid three months’ worth of rent?” I said lightly.

My tone belied my pain, but I wouldn’t let her see it. I wouldn’t let anyone see it. That was a part of me no one got to see, not even myself. Examining myself wasn’t something I wanted to do.

Briar’s lips had parted in astonishment. “You’re about to lose it? How long do you have?”

I shrugged, as though I hadn’t just spent the entire morning trying to work out a plan. I truly had intended to come to the board meeting this morning, I just…lost track of time.

Lost track of the ways that I’d managed to bury myself in?—

“A few days. A week, if I'm lucky,” I said with a grin. “I could sell a few things—pieces of art, that sort of thing. Most of the furniture is gone. But it wouldn’t last long.”

“You could work,” Briar pointed out.

I rose from the sofa. Being close to her as I said this?

Nope, wasn’t possible. “Who’s going to hire me, Briar?

I'm a duke, I hardly have much experience in trade. It would be a scandal for me to take on employment—it was bad enough being a member of the Gambling Dukes. And I’m thief.

No one in their right mind would hire me, and I wouldn’t blame them. ”

Perhaps the self-loathing was audible as I paced around the room, trying not to notice the little trinkets about the place that could have me out of my debt in twenty minutes. Damn, this woman lived well.

“You have made mistakes, that’s for certain,” Briar said quietly, leaning back into the sofa as she watched me. “But you have family—and you were a part of the Gambling Dukes. Don’t you have…I don’t know. Property? Other investments?”

I halted. I did have a townhouse in Bath. Funny. It had never occurred to me to even think of selling them.

“I won’t sell,” I said quietly. “It…damnit. That house in Bath is the only connection I have left to my friends.”

My weakness was laid bare for her now, but Briar didn’t scrunch up her nose or laugh. She could have. Plenty would.

But instead, she was looking at me closely. As though trying to see through me. As though all the words I’d said were just a smokescreen for how I truly felt, and she was trying to delve deeper.

Who knew? Perhaps she could.

“So in about a week, you’ll be homeless. Is that what you’re telling me?”

I shrugged. It seemed ridiculous, a homeless duke. I didn’t want to sell the Bath townhouse. My debts were bigger than my assets. I had no way of making money—not real money.

“I could…train horses. Drive the stagecoach.”

“Do you even know how?” Briar said quietly.

I shrugged again, discomfort settling in my chest. “I could learn.”

I was just being petulant now, but I hated this. I hated how I managed to get myself into this idiotic situation, and now I couldn’t find my way out. Oh, I had ideas about investment, but that needed capital. At least four thousand pounds. And where was I supposed to get that?

“Well, I don’t see any other option,” Briar said finally. “You’ll have to move into my townhouse—as my guest.”

Her voice had been level, but there was a deep emotional richness to it I couldn’t understand.

How could I? My heart had skipped a beat as she spoke and I almost tripped over my own feet as I staggered back to the sofa.

“Don’t mess with me, woman.”

“That’s no way to speak to your landlord,” said Briar with a grin.

“I’ve got a few empty guest bedchambers in my townhouse.

I keep it for…well, nothing, really. I have no family to visit, all my friends live themselves in town.

You can stay there for the rest of the month, if you want—the month you owe me. Maybe a month after that.”

And then? As I met her sparkling eyes, I knew there was something more to this offer, but she wouldn’t tell me what. Perhaps Briar didn’t even know. I certainly didn’t.

“So, how about it, Peregrine?”

I took a deep breath, swallowed my pride, and hoped to God this wasn’t a mistake. “Thank you.”