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Authors: Shayla Black

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Shocked hardly began to describe how incredulous and awful Kira felt. Her stomach
tumbled, her throat constricted. Everything she’d believed about Gavin, the flashes
of tenderness and caring, his appreciation of her as a woman of talent and intellect…
None of that was true. At the time she had wondered about the odd change in his behavior.
Kira wished to God she hadn’t assumed he was burying the hatchet in the name of family
harmony. If she had remained suspicious and diligent, none of this would have happened.
She always wanted to believe the best about people
. A
pparently she would be better served to believe the worst.

“I understand,” she mumbled, though she did not.

Gavin had never cared, not at all. His friendly chats across the breakfast table,
his praise of her music, his comfort when she’d been thoroughly spurned at Lady Westland’s—all
of that had been a lie.

How he must have laughed at her, at how easily she agreed to warm his bed again and
again. No wonder he had never wanted to marry her. He’d imagined her to be a slut
from the moment they met. How he must have laughed at her each time she bared her
body and her heart…

Shame
at her behavior, at her naïveté
,
engulfed her.

Mrs. Howland put a tender arm about her shoulders. “If I’d known my machinations would
break hearts, I should never have meddled.”

Though Kira was surprised at the older woman’s kindness, she could not turn it away.
For a moment—just one—she needed the comfort of a mother figure. Lord knew she’d heard
little from her own in the years past.

“James’s heart is not broken,” she assured the woman.

“I know. But you… Oh, you poor thing. And Gavin. He is hurt as well.”

Kira doubted that was true but would not argue with the older woman.

“I think it would be best for everyone if my brother and I left tonight.”

“I understand.” Mrs. Howland nodded, then hesitated. “If it gives you any ease, I
believe that Gavin cares for you. He may have proposed to Lady Litchfield, but he
does not love her. The match is a good one socially and financially, but that is all.”

Kira knew the woman was trying to help. She also suspected Mrs. Howland was right.
But it did not matter. Gavin had not learned to put his heart above societal expectations,
family obligations, and prejudices. And it was unlikely he would, given the fact he
had only seduced her to oust her from his cousin’s life.

Part of her wanted to run down the stairs once more, fling open the parlor door, and
confront the cad for what he’d done. But why? Even if he apologized, what would it
change? Gavin still thought her beneath him. She’d been a fool to hope a duke would
marry an earl’s niece, much less a part Persian one, when he could have a countess
who epitomized fair English beauty.

Kira knew that neither she nor Gavin could change who they were. It was time she accepted
her heart had led her astray and go home.

And she had no illusions
. O
nce she left here tonight, Kira knew she would never see Gavin again.

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

Two days later, Gavin, his aunt, and his cousin gathered at the Euston Station in
London on a bright Tuesday to watch the T & S Railroad launch its first passenger
train to Birmingham. The black stack at the front of the train chugged a stream of
gray steam from the smokebox into the warm blue sky. Excitement tinged the air as
the train sat waiting while passengers filed on board.

Ten o’clock seemed an ungodly hour of the morning given the fact Gavin had stayed
up all night pacing a house empty of Kira, bottle in hand. Today, his head was reminding
him why he never drank to excess.

Only Kira could drive him to extremes…

“Did you ever think this day would come?” Brock said beside him, sighing with pride.

Wishing his hat shielded more of his eyes from the blinding sun, Gavin peered at his
friend. “I knew you would make it happen. That is why I threw my lot in with you.”

Brock smiled. “Well, with the bureaucracies, the farmers in Northampton opposing us,
and my own little barricade in Warwickshire…”

He squeezed his wife’s hand.

“I heard that.” Her voice warned him, but she smiled at Brock with love, a protective
hand resting on her slightly rounded belly.

Gavin looked away. They shared something truly special. That was love. Even when they
had argued several years ago about Brock’s acquisition of the land in Warwickshire,
Gavin saw that their bond even then had been one of the heart.

Not ten feet in front of him, Cordelia stood in conversation with the engineer, Robert
Stephenson, stylish blue bonnet shielding her fair face. Despite the fact she would
be his wife in one week, he’d never have anything more than friendship with Cordelia.
And Kira

It did not matter now. She was well and truly gone.

He pushed aside the stab of pain, swallowed, and forced his attention on the sleek
new train poised to multiply his fortune.

Brock scanned the crowd and spotted Gavin’s family. Aunt Caroline waved. Brock waved
in return, as did Maddie.

Then she turned to Gavin. “What happened to Miss Melbourne and her brother? I would
have thought that James would bring his fiancée—

“Miss Melbourne ended their engagement several days ago
,
and they are gone.”

As the train sounded its whistle and began turning its wheels, Gavin was spared Maddie’s
next words, whatever they were, as well as the speculation on Brock’s face.

Hell, Gavin didn’t know what to feel. Now that Kira was gone, there was nothing except
an endless empty ache.

As the train gathered speed, the spectators watched from the platform, cheering as
it pulled away from the station. It chugged, its wheels turned, smoke billowing up
as the coal burned. The train picked up speed and soon rolled out of sight, eventually
to stop at the Curzon Street Station in Birmingham.

The orchestra struck up a rousing tune on the far side of the platform. All around,
people smiled. Gavin felt miserable. He’d succeeded at driving Kira Melbourne away—at
the cost of his soul.

“Maddie
, love
, we’re a success!” Brock said to his wife.

Gavin’s redheaded cousin threw her arms about her husband and held him tight. “I never
doubted you.”

Brock caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and gazed down at her with utter
devotion. She smiled up into his eyes
.
“I love you.”

With a muttered curse, Gavin turned away. Not a moment later, Brock grabbed his arm,
then turned back to his wife. “Will you excuse me, love?”

Maddie nodded. “I’ll go speak with Mrs. Howland.”

“Splendid.” Brock turned to Gavin, the questions in his head dancing in his expression.
“Let’s walk, shall we?”

“No.”

Brock shrugged. “As you wish. We’ll stand here in the crowd and I shall ask you why
you look so glum
.

“I’m suffering the effects of a late night.”

“Are you?”

Brock stared at him with suspicion. Gavin said nothing.

“I hear Mr. Darius Melbourne is considered all that is heroic after saving young girls
from the clutches of the evil Lord Vance. All of Town seems to be abuzz about the
cad’s illegal activity.”

Gavin had seen bits of it in the papers. His own name had been mentioned, of course.
But Darius had hunted Lord Vance, learned his operation, plotted to bring him to justice.

“I suppose you’re a bit of a hero as well.”

He tried not to laugh at that. “No, I am not.”

“Modest and surly. My, my.” Brock gazed around his shoulder to the platform behind
him. “Oh look, there’s Miss Melbourne now.”

Dying for even a glimpse of her, Gavin spun around and scanned the excited crowd,
now gathered to watch the newest in railway marvels. He spotted Cordelia lifting her
chin in a rebuff to
a
laughing Lord Darehurst. But he saw no signs of Kira’s graceful form or inky curls
peeking from beneath her bonnet. No sign of her at all.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” drawled Brock. But he wore a knowing smile.

Gavin cursed.

“I think someone is smitten.”

“I am not,” Gavin protested.

“Denial is a common symptom of love.”

“I do not love her.” He gritted his teeth, wishing Brock would shut up. “I simply…
cannot keep my hands off her. She’s like a fever I cannot control.”

Brock laughed. “Why do you assume that’s not love?”

Frowning, Gavin glared at his friend. What manner of question was that?

“Do you enjoy her conversation?” Brock asked.

Gavin nodded. A reluctant corner of his mouth turned up. “With Kira, you rarely have
to guess what she’s feeling. She is…passionate about everything. I don’t think I’ve
ever known anyone quite like her.”

Smiling, Brock went on. “You miss her. Frankly, that fact is all over your face.”

He did miss her—terribly. Every minute yawned like a year. An odd melancholy had sucked
away his energy and his ability to sleep.

“I do miss her.”

“Does she make you feel as no one else ever has?” Brock asked.

“Yes, it’s the oddest thing. When she is near, it’s as if the sun is brighter. She
makes me feel things I never imagined, things beyond anger, familial affection, and
friendship.” He sighed. “It’s a bloody tangle.”

“I see.” Brock nodded. “Do you want her happiness, even if that means making a life
without you?”

Gavin frowned, turning Brock’s words over and over in his head. “I do not want her
unhappy.”

It was the only reason he’d let her go after she
’d
refused his proposal. He had no doubt that she would despise life as his duchess,
both for the manner in which she
woul
d be talked about and for the lascivious
paths down which
his lust would take him.

“But you want her with you?”

Sighing, Gavin confessed, “I do not understand it, but yes. I wish she were here now.
I tried to make her stay. I offered to make her my mistress.”

Brock smiled. “An offer she found less than flattering, no doubt.”

“She slapped me, actually.”

Brock roared with laughter, the deep sounds mixing with the lively music. It made
Gavin all the more churlish.

“I fail to see why you find that humorous.”

“You are without a clue, my friend.”

Gavin frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You have all the symptoms of love.”

Did he? “But that does not explain why, each time I’m near her, I seem to lose my
common sense, my sense of right and wrong—

“It explains perfectly. Love does not care if the
object of your affections is
considered exalted ground or not. Your head cares.” He shrugged. “The two clash.”

Gavin scowled. Was it that simple? Did love explain everything?

“But the way I always want her,” he whispered. “It is unlike anything. It is insanity
of the first order.”

“A man in love will do nearly anything to claim his lady. I’ve told you that.”

Yes, Brock had said that on more than one occasion. The question was, did the situation
apply here?

Gavin’s every thought was a tangle, a hopeless coil of wants and fears all knotted
together. Did he dare believe?

“There you are!” Cordelia called from a few feet away.

She looked rather cozy on the young Mr. Stephenson’s arm, with the engineer’s father
standing nearby, beaming. The younger man looked upon Cordelia with awe. And she,
who seemed so accustomed to exaltation, smiled coyly at the engineer.

The sight surprised him. Cordelia had never once looked at him in such a manner. He
had not thought her capable of coquettish behavior.

A laugh behind them brought Gavin’s gaze around to Darehurst, watching Cordelia with
a wide, mocking smile. She shot the earl a glare over her shoulder. The man had been
following Cordelia for some time, and Gavin had no notion why.

With a shrug, he turned to her. “My lady.”

“Wasn’t it grand?” she asked. “How fast the train moved. How graceful it was! Your
engine is a marvel, Mr. Stephenson.”

Robert smiled with pride. Cordelia met his look before her gaze fluttered to Darehurst.
Roses appeared in her cheeks.

Coy and blushing? Unprecedented! Who inspired all this, Stephenson or Lord Darehurst?
And shouldn’t he care?

Instead of jealousy, Gavin was thrilled. Ecstatic even. Maybe he should not avoid
Cordelia’s company after all. He might not have a happy future ahead of him, but he
could ensure Cordelia had a chance at one.

BOOK: Strictly Forbidden
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