Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

37

Cull was not surprised when one of the larks informed him of Pippa’s arrival. He’d had her followed for her protection. Yet he had not expected her to come here straight from her mama’s party. After his rudeness to her family, he hadn’t known if she would want to see him…and the truth was, he didn’t want her here. He wasn’t fit for company. Wasn’t fit…for anything.

Pain twisted his gut. He could still feel Fanny’s blood on his hands. Still see the anguish in Grier’s eyes. Even though the physician had said that Fanny would survive, she’d had a hole punched through her because of Cull. Because of his arrogance and stupidity. Because he’d thought he could play with fire and not get burned.

He should have anticipated that Squibb would seek revenge. That the bastard would do it in the most cowardly of ways, a sneak attack in the dark. Now Squibb was dead. Cull had killed him, which was what he should have done from the start. But he hadn’t, and now Fanny was fighting for her life—after she’d fought so bloody long and hard already—because of his failure.

Another failure to add to the tally. Another person he loved and failed to protect.

The marks between his shoulder blades burned; the starless night pressed down on him.

He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let his darkness touch Pippa. He’d rip his heart out before he let that happen. She belonged in the light…and because he loved her, he had to let her go.

The door to the glasshouse opened, and Pippa swept in, looking like a princess in a silvery gown. Her expression was stormy, but her beauty shone through. He’d never met her equal and never would. And he refused to be the one to snuff out her brightness.

“You owe me an explanation,” she said into the stillness.

The glasshouse was quiet because he’d let the birds go. It had been time.

It was time.

“Something came up.” He flashed to Fanny lying in a pool of blood; Patrick, lifeless beneath the smoking rubble; all the mudlarks lost during Cull’s watch. Maisie’s blood on the sheets and tears of shame in her eyes.

His throat tight, he said, “It’s the nature of my life, Pippa. Something will always come up.”

“What happened, Cull?” Pippa stared at him. “Why are you acting this way?”

“I am not putting on an act. That is what I’m telling you. This is me: I’m the Prince of Larks.” He clenched his jaw. “It’s when I am with you that I’m not myself. When I forget my duties, the responsibilities that come with the job.”

That wasn’t a lie. Being with her distracted him, although he didn’t blame her for it. He blamed himself: if he’d been paying closer attention to Squibb, Fanny wouldn’t have been shot. And what if Pippa had been there beside him? What if he had to ink her onto his back? God, he would rather take a knife there instead.

Time and again, he’d fought to balance his duties with his personal wants and desires…and each time he failed, hurting someone important in the process. He couldn’t be the Prince of Larks and a brother, friend, or lover. Couldn’t escape the curse of solitude. That much was written in the stars.

When am I going to learn?he raged at himself.

“You are angry at me?” Wrath blazed in Pippa’s eyes. “After you showed my family utter disrespect—after you humiliated me in front of them and their closest friends?”

“It would have been worse if I had shown up. I don’t belong in that world, Pippa. Any more than you belong in mine,” he said flatly.

Several heartbeats passed.

“So that’s it?” Her words were cold, free of inflection. “The talk of sharing our lives, accepting one another as we are, love…was just that. Talk. Meaningless words?”

Cull balled his hands. Wanting so desperately to hold her. Knowing he couldn’t.

“I can’t hurt you, Pippa. My world is full of danger, and if something happened to you because of me…”

I would go out of my mind. I wouldn’t survive. I could take anything…but that.

“It won’t,” he said with finality. “Because I will not allow it.”

“Why is it your choice? What about what I want?” Her voice trembled. “I don’t care about the danger. I can take care of myself…or better yet, we can look out for each other, Cull. That’s what we’ve been doing, isn’t it? And it’s working…at least for me. I’m happy and feel like I’m finally becoming the woman I am meant to be. Aren’t you…aren’t you happy too?”

Christ, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. And because of that, Fanny got hurt.

He shoved aside his despair. Ruthlessly chose his next words.

“It was fun while it lasted,” he said with calculated indifference. “You were fun. But I ought to have stuck to my original rules: nothing beyond the moment. And the moment is over.”

“You arrogant blighter,” she choked out. “You are no different from Longmere.”

He couldn’t stop himself from scowling. “I am nothing like that bastard.”

“Aren’t you?” Her smile was bitter. “Both of you want a fantasy version of me. Longmere wanted the perfect countess at his beck and call. You only want the lady who will never leave her pedestal of perfection.”

“I never put you on a bloody pedestal. The Enchanted Rose? The sodding orgy?” He glowered at her. “I want you to be free to experience life as you wish.”

“But only when it comes to pleasure. Under the cover of masks. What about the rest of life, Cull?”

Her pleading tone shredded his insides.

“I want everything with you,” she said. “For better or worse.”

“I…I can’t, Pippa,” he said hoarsely. “The life I have to offer—it’s not good enough. You deserve better.”

“I deserve a man who loves me.” Her voice cracked but did not break. “Who is willing to fight for our love heart, body, and soul. Clearly, you are not that man.”

Shoulders high, she turned and left.

Just as his mam had predicted, he was left alone beneath the starless sky. His eyes and scars burned. As he watched Pippa exit onto the street below, he knew that she would not return, and anguish smothered his last flicker of hope.