Page 111

“That h-he will decide if living with me is b-best for Catherine and Reggie,” she cried. “He said you are a rake and I’m a j-jade. He doesn’t believe we have been courting properly.”

“There is nothing proper about anything we do together, but that is none of his bloody concern,” he growled.

Phee took in a hitched breath. “But it is. A-as the children’s guardian, if he deems you unsuitable, a b-bad influence upon the children, then he can decide to take them from me. He can make them live with h-him.”

Apollo’s reaction was instant and visceral. Over his dead body. If Reggie was right about what had happened in the street and his uncle had pushed him before a horse and cart, sending the lad to live with Melville would be a death sentence. Apollo would move them all to America first. He would do anything he had to, just to keep Phee and the children safe.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he urged.

She kept sobbing into his chest, so he gently cupped her chin and tipped her head back. “Look at me, my love.”

She sniffled, eyes pink and swollen, face shining with tears, nose red. “W-what is it?”

He held her gaze so she could see how serious he was. “No one is going to take your children away from you, Phee. I’ll not allow it.”

“B-but this is beyond your control. The law allows for the guardian to choose, and he takes precedence over me.”

The law was stupid and archaic, and it damned well needed to be amended, but he would fight for that in parliament. For now, he would fight for her. For her children. For their future.

“I promise you that I won’t let him take your children from you,” he vowed, meaning it.

“I know you are a duke, but you cannot promise that,” she argued, new tears slipping down her cheeks.

“This has naught to do with being a duke and everything to do with being a man,” he countered. “I protect what is mine, and that means the three of you. One way or another, I will see that Melville is put in his place and the children stay with you where they belong.”

He held her gaze, willing her to see how earnest he was, how deeply he meant these words. He would protect her and the children with the last breath left in his body. And he would do anything—fair or foul—to make certain Reggie and Catherine remained with her.

“Trust in me,” he told her.

She nodded, sniffing. “I do.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead. “You won’t regret it, my love.”

“There is a miscreant here to see you, brother dearest,” Aphrodite announced from the door to Apollo’s study.

He had been poring over all the damning evidence he had managed to collect against Lord Timothy Melville, which was, quite frustratingly, still insufficient for Apollo to take any significant action. Even should he threaten the man with his revelations as he had planned, he wasn’t certain it would be enough to control the bastard.

And controlling him was his primary concern at the moment, aside from marrying Phee with all haste.

He glanced up at his sister. “A miscreant, you say? Is it Henry, by any chance?”

Phee’s pup was the naughtiest dog he had ever met.

“No.” She made a moue of distaste. “I enjoy sweet little Henry’s company. It’s Wrighton.”

“Perfect timing,” he said.

Mal had significant underworld connections in large part due to his half brother, and Apollo had entrusted his friend in securing as much ammunition against Lord Timothy as possible.

Aphrodite sighed. “I was hoping you would want me to tell him you’re not at home.”

“What are you doing, playing butler?” he asked, curious. “Where is Kaplan?”

“There was a commotion belowstairs,” she explained, though a pink tinge appeared on her cheekbones. “I told him I would find you.”

Apollo thought the circumstances curious, but he didn’t have time to further investigate, for his friend appeared behind Aphrodite in the doorway.

“Have you finished announcing me, goose?” Mal drawled, sounding bored.