FATE: Sweet little cheat
“Don’t get confused, miss. Your forgiveness means nothing to me. I wasn’t the one who committed those vile acts—that was my dead brother, a former duke who wasn’t even deemed worthy of burial in the family crypt.”
A haze of smoke filled the room as their conversation dragged on, and Damian grew increasingly disinterested. He despised meaningless discussions—especially ones that led nowhere.
“But, Miss Meredith, you did provide a bag of gold just last autumn.”
“I’m sure I did.”
Damian barely remembered which of his brother’s women had received what. He didn’t recall their faces, their names, or the supposed “wrongs” he had been compensating for.
Compensating.
Not quite the right word.
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