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“A bastard,” he finished for her. “My sister.”

The revelation came as a shock, although… should it have? He was bound to have plenty of siblings, considering how his father viewed relations with women outside of marriage.

“Half-sister,” she corrected.

Thorn didn’t know how to react to this rather startling news. This powerful woman, whom people revered and feared, was his family. His blood.

Now that he looked at her with that information in mind, she did resemble him. The same straight aristocratic nose, dark, raven-black hair, and the signature Thornton eyes. Dark, like that of a devil.

But he didn’t know her—didn’t grow up with her. And she seemed to have done well for herself in spite of that. Perhaps because of that.

For now, he didn’t have the emotional space to contemplate what it meant for him. And he had more pressing matters at hand. He nudged the ring toward her. “Then take it.”

She lifted her chin just a little—an indication of surprise. “Just like that?”

“Miss Monroe, I don’t know you. I didn’t know I had a sister, and I don’t know what I would have done if I had known. Hell, I don’t even know if you are telling the truth. And to be honest, I do not care. But with your thoughtless actions—with that damned pamphlet—you doomed a woman last night. And that woman happens to be the one I love.”

She sat back, her eyes shadowed by something for a brief moment, but she didn’t speak.

“I would like you to correct that mistake,” Thorn continued.

“She is a commoner,” she noted, curiosity in her voice.

“Yes.”

“A thief.”

“Quite.”

“And it wasn’t a mistake,” she added with a light shrug. “She was warned what would happen if she failed to do the job on time. I just kept my word. That’s it.”

“You wanted the damn ring; you can have it,” Thorn said, planting his palms flat on the desk, towering over the proprietress of hell. “No stealing necessary. Just fix the damage you’ve caused.”

“Impossible.” Her answer was quiet but final.

“Not. Impossible,” he growled. “In fact, I’d argue that nothing is impossible for a woman like you.”

She shifted in her seat. “Sensational news gets printed on the front of the morning paper. The retraction is printed on the back in the tiniest font. Do you know why, Lord Thornton? It’s not because the printers are despicable—it’s because such news is of no interest. I can retract what I said, but no one will pay attention. Therefore the damage will remain.”

“I don’t need people to pay attention. As long as you do retract it and are willing to repeat it in front of the magistrate, that is enough. Her reputation may never heal, but she will not be imprisoned, and at the moment, that is all I am looking for.”

She drummed her fingers against the desk, her eyes set on the ring in front of her, deep in thought.

“If the ring is not enough, just name the price. If you want to be recognized as my sister, part of the Thornton family, I can acknowledge you publicly. Wakefield is on his deathbed—there is nothing he can do to prevent that.”

She raised her eyes at that, her expression unreadable. “I am not certain I want that. In fact, I have the means to get anything I want all by myself.” She paused. “However, having a viscount—a future marquess—owe me a favor does sound enticing.”

“Done.”

She studied him curiously. “You’d do that for a thief?”

Thorn straightened to his full height. “I’d do anything for the woman I love. Including making a deal with the devil.”

That devilish smile appeared across her lips again. “Then deal it is.”

Chapter 22

Lydia watched Thorn’s valet with an unblinking stare. He stood at the door, pretending not to notice as he gazed out the window from across the room.