Compromised for Christmas (The Jennings Family #1)

4. Fitz

4

Fitz

“F itzy, are you sure about this?” Felix asked, leaning his hip against his desk and staring down at Fitz. “I know you didn’t truly compromise her. Honestly, it appeared much more like she was compromising you.”

Fitz glanced at the closed door of his brother’s study. The one the Hartley’s had just exited through. He blew out a heavy breath with a resigned pfffff. He squeezed the cold leather arms of the chair he sat in and stared at his whitening knuckles.

“What other option is there, Felix? She’ll be ruined otherwise.”

Fitz liked his peace and quiet. The small slice of comfort he’d found. He was content to grow to a ripe old curmudgeon, donning his spectacles every morning and working on his Italian translations. But at the expense of a young woman’s life? A ruined woman’s life was bleak. And the Hartleys had no longstanding title to protect them, to fall back on. Blast and damn, Mr. Hartleys’s business might even be affected. Fitz’d put them all in the poorhouse, in the slums of London, force that beautiful, kind-eyed woman into prostitution. He couldn’t live with that on his conscience.

Felix studied him, arms crossed over his broad, deliberately honed chest, his identical amber eyes dissecting. Sometimes Fitz thought Felix was better at unraveling the peculiar puzzle that was Fitz than Fitz was himself.

“We could find a substitute,” Felix finally said.

Fitz was already shaking his head. “Absolutely not.” He drove a hand through his hair and winced when his fingers got caught in his wayward curls.

Bloody hell, he hated the dratted things. All three Jennings siblings had dark amber hair, but Felix and their sister Felicity were blessed with soft, wavy locks. Fitz, because apparently he was destined to be different in every way possible, had riotous curls. Annoying curls. Wish-he-could-shave-them-off exasperating curls.

“You know as well as I, Felix, that any substitute would be an absolute cretin, scraped up from the dredges of society.”

Felix winced. “I’m not fond of the idea, either. I hate to sentence her to a life with a cruel, most-likely disease-infested man. But I could possibly find an especially old cuff, so it would at least be short-lived.”

Something burned in Fitz’s gut. His muscles locked tight, and he clenched his fists. He frowned down at his hands. He flexed his fingers and tried to relax, rid himself of the jarring resistance that had just overtaken him. Felix had a point. And with how lively the young woman appeared to be, she’d probably cause an old cove to slip the wind within days. So perhaps it wouldn’t be horrible if they attempted to find a substitute.

Which made it that much more surprising when his mouth opened and he said, “No. I’ll do it. I’ll marry her.”