The Devil's Gift

by Laura Landon

  The summons was answered so quickly Jenna knew Benton had been standing just outside the door. “Yes, my lady?”

  “We aren’t accepting guests. Tell whoever it is to go away.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Unless it’s Ridgeway!”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Benton turned and left, then Eleanor took up where she’d been before she was interrupted.

  “The…urgency has everything to do with the fact that the Duke of Ridgeway has already been a most patient suitor. He’s shown his interest in you for years. It was only that ridiculous betrothal agreement your father foolishly signed when you were but a child that prohibited you from becoming a duchess years ago.”

  “I will not marry the Duke of Ridgeway.”

  “You will, or I’ll—”

  “You’ll do nothing, Baroness, because Miss Kingston is already betrothed to me.”

  Jenna gasped, startled at the nearness of the voice that haunted her dreams. The deep, rich voice that had lived the last weeks only in her heart was suddenly live. But it was not until she lifted her gaze and saw his broad shoulders filling the doorway that she allowed herself to breathe. To smile.

  It was Jack.

  “Allow me to present Jackson Rafferty, the Earl of Devlin,” Benton announced, barely able to keep the smile from his face. “Miss Jenevieve Kingston’s betrothed.”

  THE DEVIL’S GIFT by Laura Landon

  Chapter 13

  Jenna could scarcely believe her ears.

  She could scarcely believe her eyes.

  She could scarcely believe Jack had the audacity to walk into her home and announce that he was the Earl of Devlin and that he intended to marry her.

  But there he was, in all his noble splendor. Beautifully tailored evening attire, scrupulously tied neckcloth, gleaming shoes. Every ounce the Earl, he dominated the room in breathtaking fashion.

  If the repercussions from impersonating a member of the nobility weren’t so devastating, Jenna would have found the situation funny. But there was nothing funny about the man she spent nearly a month training to be a butler pretending to be her betrothed.

  How did he think he could get away with such a preposterous lie? Her stepmother already doubted his claim.

  “You...you can’t be Devlin,” Eleanor sputtered, seemingly having a difficult time regaining her composure.

  Jenna gripped her wine glass, waiting for Jack to make a mistake that would give him away.

  “I assure you, Lady Kingston, I am indeed the Earl of Devlin.”

  “I don’t doubt who you claim to be,” Eleanor spat out in disgust. “I am merely saying that you can’t be Miss Kingston’s betrothed.”

  Jack stood in the doorway with his long, muscular legs braced wide and his hands locked behind his back. It was a stance of authority. The position of command.

  “May I ask why you think it’s impossible for me to be Miss Kingston’s betrothed?”

  “Because my husband signed a betrothal agreement stating Jenevieve would marry Sheridan Rafferty. Sheridan Rafferty is dead.”

  “Have you read the betrothal agreement, Lady Kingston?”

  “Of course I haven’t. It was drawn up long before Kingston and I married.”

  “Why is that important?” Colin Brackston asked, speaking up for the first time.

  Jack turned a slow, evaluative gaze in Brackston’s direction. “And you are?”

  “Allow me to introduce myself.” Brackston walked across the room. “Colin, Viscount Brackston.”

  “Ah, you are Lady Kingston’s younger brother,” Jack said as if he were well acquainted with the nobility and who was related to whom.

  “Yes. And please, forgive our manners. Won’t you come in and have a seat?”

  Jack gave a sharp nod that fit perfectly with the role he was playing, then stepped across the room and sat in the chair across from Jenna’s.

  Jenna wished he would have selected a chair anywhere in the room but where he chose. She could barely lift her gaze without looking him in the eyes. If there were such a thing as giddy panic she was feeling it now. She couldn’t take a drink of her wine without looking into his face. And each time their gazes locked, her heart did a somersault then beat a little faster than it had been pounding before.

  “Your appearance made us completely forget our manners. Would you care for a drink?” Brackston asked Jack.

  He nodded in Jenna’s direction. “Whatever Miss Kingston has will be fine. And it looks as though my intended needs her glass refilled as well.”

  “Of course,” Brackston acknowledged, taking Jenna’s glass from her hand and carrying it to the sideboard. When he returned, he gave Jenna her full glass, Jack his, then took his seat on the settee beside his sister.

  Jenna’s stepmother barely gave their guest a chance to become situated before she threw out her first disparaging remark. “I object to you calling Miss Kingston your intended, Lord Devlin.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help that, Lady Kingston. Miss Kingston is my intended and I refuse to refer to her as anything else.”

  For a few moments Jenna allowed herself to enjoy the frustrated look on Eleanor’s face. She knew what Jack was trying to do. Somehow he’d discovered that Eleanor intended to force her to marry the Duke of Ridgeway and had invented this scheme to give her time to find a way to escape the inevitable. But how did he think he could get by with such a ruse?

  Jenna considered how angry her stepmother would become when she discovered Jack was an imposter and felt a deep-seated fear for him. Eleanor would undoubtedly call in the authorities and insist that they prosecute Jack to the full extent of the law.

  The fear inside her suddenly grew to an uncomfortable pressure she could no longer ignore. This was all her fault. If Jack hadn’t seen what Eleanor had done to her, he probably wouldn’t have given her a second thought. Except in her dreams.

  In her dreams she imagined him thinking about her as much as she thought about him.

  Jenna lifted her gaze and realized every pair of eyes was focused on her. “Wh... I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to recover. “What did you say?”

  “I asked after your health, Miss Kingston. Your stepmother just told me that you had been recuperating after a long illness.”

  “Illness? Oh, yes. I—”

  “I repeatedly told Jenevieve to be mindful of the weather when she went out of doors,” Eleanor interrupted. “Rain can come up so quickly in this part of England, and it has such a chill to it at this time of year.”

  “You undoubtedly didn’t listen to your stepmother,” he chided with a wink.

  “Undoubtedly,” Jenna replied, unable to say more considering the murderous look her stepmother was giving her.

  “I’m wondering,” Jack said, leaning casually back in his chair, “where Kingston is this evening. I hope he’s not unwell.”

  The speed in which the expression on Eleanor’s face changed sent a jolt of alarm rushing though Jenna.

  “He’s not presently at home,” Lady Kingston answered before Jenna could reply. Then, with a pointed look in Jenna’s direction, she said, “When did you say your father intended to return?”

  Jenna tried not to show her unease. “He said nothing about returning in his last letter, so I doubt it will be any time soon.”

  “The next time you write,” Eleanor said with a sly gleam in her eyes, “you might wish to inform him that there are several projects on the estate that require his attention.”

  Jenna refused to be cowed by her stepmother. She knew what Eleanor was trying to do. With a guest present, she hoped Jenna might accidentally say something that would reveal where her father was. “What projects are those? I spoke with Mr. Jenkins last week and he didn’t mention any projects that required Father’s oversight.”

  “I’m sure even your father realizes that his absence can’t continue indefinitely,” Viscount Brackston added, closing the door on the trap he and his sister were laying. “
Where did you say your father has gone?”

  “I didn’t,” Jenna said with a smile on her face she knew would infuriate her stepmother. But she suddenly felt safe with Jack here. She knew her stepmother wouldn’t resort to her usual display of temper with an audience at hand.

  “Do you even know where your father went?” Brackston asked. “I’m sure that Devlin here is most interested in his whereabouts. Especially if he intends to pursue the betrothal agreement your father and the late earl signed nearly fifteen years ago.”

  “Nonsense, Colin,” Eleanor snapped as if her brother’s suggestion was impossible. “Lord Devlin cannot be serious in his offer to marry Jenevieve. He is only doing so out of a sense of duty to the agreement with which his brother is no longer able to comply.”

  “I’m afraid you give me far too much credit,” Jack said in a voice that even caused Jenna to take notice. “Marriage is a commitment with far reaching consequences. Anyone who knows me will tell you that, although I loved and admired both my father and my brother, I would never enter into a marriage prearranged by the Queen herself, unless I truly wanted it.”

  “That’s absurd,” Eleanor said, her voice containing a great deal of disdain.

  “Is it?” Jack sat forward. “My father intended for his son, the future Earl of Devlin, to marry Baron Kingston’s daughter, and I intend to follow through with his intent. Because that is what I desire.”

  “I’m afraid you are the one who does not understand,” Eleanor said, the tone of her voice barely concealing her hostility. “In my husband’s absence, I am left to see to my stepdaughter’s future.”

  The baroness rose to her feet and Jack also stood.

  Jenna would have liked to believe that he’d risen because he knew that was what “polite Society” taught their offspring to do, but from the expression on his face, she feared he’d risen for another reason.

  Jenna knew from experience it was far more difficult to wage a battle when your adversary towered above you while you sat uncomfortably several feet below them.

  And it was obvious that Jack considered Jenna’s stepmother an adversary.

  Just as it was obvious that Jack realized he was engaged in a battle.

  “Then in your husband’s stead, I would expect you to comply with the wishes he expressed when he and my father signed the agreement.”

  “That is the point, Lord Devlin. You were not the son my husband intended his daughter to marry. You are not Sheridan Rafferty.”

  Jenna clasped her hands tightly in her lap. What did Jack think would happen when he stormed through the doors of Kingston Manor pretending to be the Earl of Devlin? That Eleanor would accept him with open arms?

  Hardly!

  Jenna was the answer to Eleanor’s financial problems. And those of her brother. Jenna didn’t know how much the Duke of Ridgeway had offered for her, but it was evidently a great deal. And perhaps even more than money.

  According to Maggie, Ridgeway was rumored to be involved in a great many ventures, some even whispered to be illegal. She couldn’t imagine, however, that the duke’s dealings had anything to do with Eleanor or her brother. Jenna’s only value as far as Ridgeway was concerned was the heir she could provide him.

  Jenna fought the cold chill that gripped her spine. The thought of Ridgeway anywhere near caused a sick feeling to lodge in the pit of her stomach.

  She swallowed hard and tried to shut out the accusatory remarks her stepmother was making, and Jack’s retorts as he answered her back. Suddenly though, it was impossible to ignore her stepmother’s harsh tone, or the volume at which she spoke.

  “I’m sure the agreement my husband signed was quite detailed in its instructions. I can’t imagine him giving his approval to anyone other than the Earl of Devlin’s firstborn son.”

  “But he did, madam.”

  “No! He wouldn’t have.”

  “Enough,” Jenna said, rising to her feet. “I will not have you arguing over something of which you have no knowledge,” she said to her stepmother.

  Jenna absorbed the hostile glare in Eleanor’s eyes, then turned away while she still had the courage to do so.

  “Lord...Devlin,” Jenna said with a great deal of difficulty. “May I speak with you? In private?”

  “I’m not sure being alone with Lord Dev—”

  “Of course,” Jack interrupted. “Perhaps a stroll on the terrace?”

  Jenna nodded her agreement. She ignored the fury on her stepmother’s face when Jack called for Benton.

  Even though Jack wasn’t really an earl, he was without question a match for her stepmother’s bullying.

  When Benton entered the room, Jack addressed him with the same command as any nobility might.

  “Benton, would you have a shawl brought in for Miss Kingston?”

  “Right away, my lord.”

  Jenna couldn’t believe this was happening. She couldn’t believe Jack’s audacity in claiming to be the Earl of Devlin. And even more shocking, she couldn’t believe the ease with which Benton played along with Jack’s scheme. Surely not everyone would—

  Jenna jolted as a thought raced through her mind.

  Maggie!

  After Jenna had caught Jack searching through her home, and he had been the cause of the beating Jenna had received, Maggie wouldn’t let Jack Hawkins’ ruse remain a secret. The second she walked through the door she’d announce him for the fraud he was.

  Jenna spun around when she heard her maid approach, preparing to ward off the greatest share of the tragedy. What she saw nearly took her to her knees.

  Maggie rushed into the room with her eyes lowered in the most submissive fashion, and when she reached the man she’d always considered the ‘divvil’ incarnate, she bobbed a demure and respectful curtsy.

  “Maggie—” Jenna started to say, but her maid gave her barely a glance before she spoke.

  “The mistress’s shawl,” she said as she held out the woven wrap for Jack to take.

  “Thank you.” Jack took the shawl from Maggie’s hands and placed it around Jenna’s shoulders.

  “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

  “That will be all.”

  With a polite bob, Maggie turned and left the room.

  Jenna tried, but couldn’t speak.

  “Are you ready?” Jack asked, holding out his arm for her to take.

  Lady Kingston took a step toward them. “I still don’t think it’s wise for you to go out of doors, Jenevieve,” she said in a tone Jenna had heard her use often. The tone was usually followed by some form of discipline.

  “Don’t worry, Baroness,” Jack said leading Jenna to the terrace doors. “I’ll make certain she doesn’t take a chill.”

  “I don’t think a chill is the only matter my sister is worried about,” Brackston said from his spot on the settee. “There are certain proprieties that must be observed, and your reputation as a—”

  Jack stopped abruptly. The muscles in his arms beneath her hand turned rock hard, the muscles beneath his jaw knotted in anger, and the sudden flash in his eyes took her breath.

  “If Shad were here you would have good cause for concern. But I am not my brother. I have never shared the Devil of Devlin’s reputation, nor have I taken my obligations in as carefree a manner as he seemed to at times.”

  “You have to admit, it is a little unconventional to allow you such liberties,” Brackston said,

  “I see nothing unconventional about two people past their majority as well as betrothed taking a stroll in a garden when the two of you are only a few steps away.”

  “You are not betroth—”

  “Leave it, Madam,” Jack said, the forcefulness in his voice leaving no room for argument. “We have discussed the topic to the point of exhaustion.”

  As if dismissing Eleanor and her objections, Jack led Jenna to the double French doors that led out onto the terrace. Just before they stepped outside he stopped and said to no one in particular, “You may retire if you wis
h, or you may stay here to wait for our return. Although the hour may be later than you are accustomed to retiring.”

  “We shall wait,” Eleanor said as if refusing to give up the last word.

  “As you wish.”

  Jack placed Jenna’s hand atop his arm again but didn’t take his first step away from the glaring eyes of Jenna’s stepmother and her brother.

  “I will accept the offer of a bed for the night, if you are so inclined to make such an offer. Or I can take myself to the inn I passed on my way here.”

  “You will stay here, Lord Devlin,” the baroness said as if she’d been insulted. “I’ll not have London Society hear I would not even offer a bed to a guest, no matter how unwelcome.”

  “Thank you, Lady Kingston. I gratefully accept your offer. Now, if you will excuse us.”

  Jack led Jenna out the double doors, across the stone terrace, down the three stone steps, then over the crushed gravel walk. Not until they’d made their way past the flowering azalea bushes and the carefully tended roses did Jenna open her mouth to speak.

  Her efforts were halted by the pressure of one of Jack’s fingers against her lips.

  It wasn’t until they reached the shadows at the back of the garden that he stopped, then stepped even deeper into the darkness.

  He turned her to face him, but before Jenna could utter her first word of censure, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

  THE DEVIL’S GIFT by Laura Landon

  Chapter 14

  A brilliance overtook Jenna and spread to every part of her body. Each night for the past month she’d dreamed of Jack’s mouth pressed against hers, his arms holding her, his hands touching her. She’d dreamed it, but never thought she’d experience his magic ever again.

  But here he was, kissing her as deeply and passionately as he had that last night in the garden.

  His mouth opened over hers, his tongue delved inside in maddening exploration.

  She welcomed him by pressing tighter against him and twining her arms around his neck.