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stopped himself from biting off a curse. Get her to trust you. It is key to your success.
    “I stopped believing in heroes when my dad died.” Lucien slit open a vein for the greater cause. “I was twelve, and this person who was in great shape and was supposedly as healthy as a race horse dropped dead of a heart attack. That was probably when I started believing justice didn’t truly exist.” Lucien absently rubbed the sudden ache in his chest. “It’s possible I thought the sun rose and set on my father”—a huskiness he couldn’t cover coated his words—“and that, before he passed, I believed that good would always triumph over evil. When he died, I understood that wasn’t the case.”
    Midnight swamped the sapphire in Sophie’s gaze. “Yeah. I get that.” Her lush, pretty mouth pulled down at the edges. “I thought I would stop believing in everything when both of my parents died. A carjacking took them from us when I was fourteen. But then my brother stepped in, and he somehow knew just the right things to say and do to make me feel safe again. In a lot of ways he—Royce—is more like an overprotective father than a big brother, even though technically we don’t share blood. My mother married his father when I was still very young, and his father later adopted me. Anyway, as much as I hate that Royce occasionally treats me like a kid”—she chuckled softly, and light chased the darkness from her eyes—“I love it more than I hate it and would feel lost if he stopped.”
    Her loving tone and the open affection in her eyes as she spoke of her brother sent crushing loss and unbearable heat through Lucien with the power of a tsunami. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as cold and hot fought for supremacy inside him. Focus . Lucien fought to conjure the fading image of sandy-haired Josh. You failed him twice already. You owe him this now.
    Soft contact suddenly brushed against the back of Lucien’s hand, and he snapped his eyes open. Sophie covered his fingers with her small hand, and his skin burned everywhere her flesh came in contact with his. Christ . Lucien couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him so innocently yet had such an immediate, raw effect on his libido. He withdrew his hand from hers—a little faster than he would have liked her to witness—before the sweet swelling in his balls became an erection he could not hide.
    The softness in Sophie’s focus challenged Lucien’s ability to look back without squirming.
    “Are you okay?” she asked.
    Lucien cleared his throat. “I’m not used to talking about my father.” At least that was true. “If you’re done eating”—he stood, silently daring himself to keep his arousal suppressed enough not to give himself away—“would you like to take a look at some of the information I’ve collected about the duke and his companion, or would you rather wait until tomorrow?”
    Sophie popped up from her chair like a jack-in-the-box. “Let’s do it now.”
    Lucien couldn’t help it, she made him smile. “I’ll take you back to my study.” He crooked his finger. “Follow me.”
    * * * *
    As Emma had hinted to Sophie, Lucien had indeed successfully deflected almost all questions designed to get him to give pieces of himself away. Torn between frustration at his masterful skill and her fascination with the wonderful old journals and documents he’d set in front of her two hours ago, Sophie carefully closed the duke’s—William’s—first journal. In it, the man often mentioned his wife, Calliope, as well as her brother, Jude, with affection. If Sophie were to read between the lines, she might be able to stretch and say the man’s words about Jude felt as if they were laced with something deeper than affection and maybe had some longing in them. His feelings toward Calliope, though, were also warm and kind.
    The scratch of pen on paper just then caused Sophie to lift her gaze. She looked across the room, and