Gently she picked up his hand where it rested on his abdomen and brought it to her lips. “Your knuckles are bruising. You hit Elverton.”

“Several times.”

“Is he going to leave your mother be?”

“He doesn’t have a choice. He had an apoplectic fit. Finn says it wasn’t my fault, that it was his anger, not my fist, that caused it.”

Rising up on an elbow, she brushed the hair from his brow. “How bad?”

“He can’t move, can’t speak. I almost told him that you were carrying my child, that my son would be a duke. But I realized I no longer cared what he thought. I always hoped if I achieved enough, perhaps he’d recognize me publicly. But there is no value to be found in having his regard.”

She eased over until her thigh was nestled between his legs and half her body covered a portion of his. “You’re nothing like him, you know. You’re a much better man. More honest, more real, more caring.”

But he had no title, no prestige. Being associated with a Trewlove did not elevate one’s status in Society. Even Gillie, who had married a duke, was not yet accepted by the nobs. If Lena wanted her sisters to marry nobility, Aiden was not the one to see that happen.

Reaching down, he flattened his palm over her belly. “Have you felt him?”

She placed her hand over his. “It’s too soon.”

He was disappointed not to have the opportunity to feel his child wiggling around, and that disappointment surprised him. He’d never given any thought to having a child because he’d taken so many precautions not to have one. Now he rather liked the idea of his growing within her.

“Aiden, we don’t have to stop seeing each other right away.”

“It’s best, Lena, if we call it quits now. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” Easing her off him, he shoved himself to a sitting position and dropped his legs over the side of the bed.

She splayed her fingers over his back. “I’m glad you did.”

He wanted to roll over and take her again, which was the reason he needed to leave. Because he would always want to take her again. Would always want one more word with her. Would always want to hold her one last time. Would always long for another kiss.

Snatching up his clothes, he began to get dressed. “Will you send word after he’s born?”

“You don’t think our paths will cross before then?”

Keeping his back to her, he didn’t need to see her to know sadness was reflected in her eyes, because he heard it in her tone. “I don’t see how they would.”

“I could open a shop—”