Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone SheriffThe Gentleman RogueNever Trust a Rebel

by Lynna Banning

  She hesitated.

  ‘Unless you have a wish for Lady Lamerton to hear our conversation...’

  She closed the door with a quiet click. Came to stand before Devlin, facing him across the fireside rug. ‘Does toying with me give you pleasure, Devlin? Tell her and be done with it.’

  There was a silence as their eyes held.

  ‘If I tell her, it would be the ruin of you, Emma.’

  ‘Is that not what you want?’

  ‘Contrary to what you think, it is not.’

  ‘Then what do you want, Devlin?’

  He smiled a strange sort of smile and glanced away.

  Emma felt an uneasiness. ‘Devlin?’ she prompted softly.

  That dark unreadable gaze met hers. He smiled again. This time his usual handsome charming smile, but it did not quite reach his eyes. ‘I want you, Emma.’

  All she could hear in the resounding silence was the hard thud of her heart.

  She stared at him, unable to believe what he had just said. ‘Is this some sort of jest?’

  ‘I have never been more serious.’ His voice was silky smooth and cold as ice. ‘Marry me, Emma.’

  ‘You cannot be in earnest, Devlin.’

  The silence hissed loudly.

  He stepped closer and, lifting a strand of hair away from her face, tucked it behind her ear in a gesture that was too intimate. ‘You think I have no care for you?’

  She stepped back out of his reach, trying not to show the horror slipping through her veins.

  ‘And if I refuse you...?’

  He stared at her as if he had not considered that as an option. Devlin was titled and rich, handsome and powerful. There could not be many women who would turn him down. Especially a woman in Emma’s position.

  ‘I think you understand the choice well enough. Marry me, or I will have to reconsider my position on speaking to Lady Lamerton.’

  ‘You said you had a care for me. You said you did not want to ruin me.’

  ‘Needs must,’ he murmured in a voice that, for all its quietness, cut through her to make her shiver.

  ‘More blackmail,’ she said.

  She thought of her father. She thought of her brother. She thought of Ned.

  How could she marry a man that would think nothing of blackmailing a woman, a man who had organised that awful attack on Ned? Who despised another man simply because he had been born poor and made his own way in the world?

  And how could she not, given what was riding on it?

  ‘Do you understand what I am offering you, Emma?’

  He was offering her a reprieve.

  He was offering her a lifetime at his side and in his bed. She would be his to do with as he pleased. A man who had led her brother to a gaming den and sat there and let him lose her father’s fortune.

  She looked into his eyes, and knew she could not do it.

  ‘I recognise the honour you do me, Devlin, but...’

  ‘You are refusing me because of him?’

  ‘Lady Lamerton said you have always disliked him, even before my return. Why? Simply because he is trade?’ she demanded.

  ‘Is he?’ Devlin asked. ‘What do you really know of Edward Stratham?’

  ‘I know enough.’

  ‘Do you, really? Do you know he is a Whitechapel tough, Emma, in the guise of a gentleman? A wolf in sheep’s clothing and one that means to eat you up for breakfast?’

  ‘There is nothing between me and Ned Stratham.’ Any more. Those small important words went unspoken. ‘I will not be seeing him again, I promise you.’

  ‘Somehow I do not believe you.’

  ‘Then you are mistaken in what you believe.’

  ‘In the same way I was mistaken in what I saw in Green Park?’

  His words echoed in the silence.

  ‘Believe what you will. Shall I fetch Lady Lamerton that you might tell her?’

  ‘You really will not yield.’ Not a question, but a statement.

  She shook her head.

  His eyes scanned hers. ‘You fancy yourself in love with him,’ he said slowly with the air of a man making a discovery.

  ‘Do not be absurd!’ she snapped, but felt the traitorous blush heat her cheeks. ‘It is merely that, unlike you, I am not so prejudiced to judge a man on where he was born and how he came by his money.’

  He laughed at that, but it was a hard, sarcastic sound. ‘Such pride and principles, Emma. You really have no idea.’

  ‘You think Whitechapel a hovel and Edward Stratham beneath a gentleman because of it.’

  ‘No, I think Whitechapel a cesspit and Stratham the vilest of its villains.’

  They stared at one another.

  ‘He is not what you think him, Emma.’

  ‘Whatever he is, Devlin, he is a better man than you.’

  The words seemed to echo in the room between them.

  ‘I am sorry that it has come to this, Devlin.’

  ‘So am I, Emma.’ He looked at her for a moment longer. ‘So am I.’

  He bowed and walked away leaving her standing there.

  * * *

  ‘Well?’ Lady Lamerton was standing in the doorway, with her eyebrows raised in expectation of the news.

  ‘He asked me to marry him.’ Emma felt dazed.

  ‘I knew it!’ Lady Lamerton crowed. ‘Many congratu—’

  ‘I refused him.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I refused him,’ she said and sat down in the chair.

  ‘Are you run mad, Emma?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said. And maybe she really was. She had refused Devlin and stoked his ire. And for all her justifications and moral high ground, she knew they were all just excuses. She knew the real reason she was jeopardising her position and risking Lamerton’s assistance in locating Kit. She felt numb from what she had just done.

  ‘Devlin is heir to an earldom. He is one of the wealthiest men in London. His mother is from a banking dynasty. And you are—’ Lady Lamerton stopped herself just in time and sat down, clasping a hand to her forehead.

  ‘A penniless companion,’ Emma continued for her. ‘Whose family name has been marred by scandal.’

  ‘You are a young lady who holds too much against him, is what I was going to say.’

  ‘Both are true,’ Emma admitted. ‘But given the part that Devlin played in my family’s history, he and I really would not suit.’

  ‘I think, Emma Northcote, that is a decision you will regret. And if it has anything to do with Edward Stratham then you would do well to think again. I saw you talking to him at Lady Misbourne’s card party. Using him to bring Devlin to offer was one thing. But this is something else. Rest assured Stratham will have his eye on bigger fish than you, Emma, I thought you understood that. I am not unaware that young women are attracted to men who are, how shall I put it—rugged, untamed and rather dangerous. A rogue can set a lady’s heart a-flutter. I was once young myself, hard to believe though it is. But trust me when I tell you that whatever else you might imagine, what Stratham wants from you is not marriage.’

  * * *

  Ned stood by the empty grate of his study in the mansion house in Cavendish Square. Rob sat in one of the nearby wing chairs.

  ‘You’ll have heard the whisper that Devlin proposed marriage to her and she turned him down,’ Rob said.

  Ned gave a nod. ‘I’ve heard.’

  ‘Because of you?’

  ‘She loathes Devlin. She blames him for what happened to her brother,’ Ned said, not answering the question. He let the words lapse into silence. ‘I’m going to tell her. The truth. Of who I am.’

  ‘Why?’ Rob stared at him as if he had had a brainstorm. ‘Have you gone mad?’
/>   ‘I love her, Rob.’

  His friend stared at him. Had never heard him say such a thing about anyone ever. ‘I did not realise.’

  ‘Neither did I. Until I had to sit down at that card table opposite her.’

  ‘Hell!’ Rob whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Ned. ‘It was. It is.’

  ‘If you tell her, you’re risking everything.’

  ‘Misbourne is signed in. He won’t pull out.’

  ‘And the rest of it? Everything else?’ Rob shook his head. ‘You could lose it all.’

  ‘Then so be it. I am done with the charade. I cannot marry another woman. Nor can I sit back and watch her marry another man. I love her!’

  ‘But if you tell her...you will lose her.’ Rob looked in pain.

  ‘And if I don’t tell her, how can I be with her?’ Ned shook his head. ‘How can I ask her to wed me?’ He knew what his friend was saying was right, but he knew, too, he had to do this. ‘She has a right to know the truth. To make her own informed choice whatever that choice may be. I will not hoodwink her. I will not lie to her. Let the cards fall where they will.’

  Rob glanced away. ‘At the end of the day, she’s one of them, Ned.’

  ‘She’s not what you think her. She’s one of us, too.’

  Rob shook his head. ‘Have you thought about this? About what it will mean?’

  ‘I have thought about nothing else for days.’ He looked at his friend. ‘I’ll tell her tonight. There’s a dance at Colonel Morley’s. Lady Lamerton’s name is on the guest list.’

  There was a small silence during which Rob digested the enormity of what was about to happen. His face was pale.

  Ned took the piece of paper from the top drawer of his desk and handed it to Rob. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me, Rob. Whatever happens tonight...you’ll be all right.’

  ‘Thank you, Ned.’ Rob slipped the cheque into his pocket.

  Ned lifted the bottle of gin from where it sat ready on the drum table between them. Poured them both a drink. ‘Dutch courage,’ he said and sat down in the leather wing chair opposite Rob’s.

  Rob accepted the drink with thanks. He hesitated, then asked, ‘You said that you love her. Does she love you?’

  ‘I believe she thinks she does.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ned. I never imagined...’

  ‘Neither did I.’

  They lapsed into silence. Sipped their gin from the engraved cut-crystal glasses in the splendour of the mahogany-lined study.

  Because they both knew that Emma Northcote would not love him once he told her the truth.

  * * *

  Emma heard the stifled whispers about her and Devlin the minute she walked into Mrs Morley’s ballroom and knew that it had been a mistake to tell Lady Lamerton. She ignored the gossip and concentrated only on Lady Lamerton’s conversation with Mrs Morley, Mrs Hilton and Lady Routledge. But the too-frequent flicker of their eyes across the ballroom warned her. She glanced across the room and saw Ned and his steward talking to Mr Dale.

  The footman passed Emma the note surreptitiously as he brought the tray of lemonades across to the party of ladies. Slid it into her hand beneath the cover of tray as he offered the drinks.

  She opened her mouth to ask who had sent it, but the footman was already weaving his way through the crowd. With the sudden race of her heart she thought that she already knew the answer.

  Emma slipped the note straight into her pocket before anyone could notice. Her eyes found Ned’s across the room. She felt the power of all that bound them together squeeze her heart, felt it twist and tug against the chains in which they were trying to confine it, felt it roar for release.

  Inside her pocket the letter seemed to quiver and vibrate. She knew whatever he needed to tell her must be important for him to risk sending a note.

  Their eyes held a second longer across the ballroom. His expression was intense, serious, watchful. His brows lowered. She felt her stomach tighten with worry.

  She turned away, bent her head to Lady Lamerton’s ear and whispered her excuse.

  Lady Lamerton did not stop listening to the story Lady Routledge was relating. Barely glanced in Emma’s direction. Gave a nod of her head to Emma to show that she was giving her permission.

  Emma glanced at Ned again. Then she made her way from the ballroom.

  Out in the hallway she stopped behind a large display cabinet and retrieved the note. The paper quivered in her hand as she opened it and skimmed her eyes over the few dark strong words written there. Her eyes widened. Her heart gave a stutter.

  The note was not from Ned, but she did not even question the instruction written within it. Emma slipped it into her pocket and, with a deep breath, stopped a passing footman and asked him the way to Colonel Morley’s study.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘The development of the site has started just as you required,’ Mr Dale was saying by Ned’s side.

  Ned watched the footman slip Emma the note. Watched her pocket it with equal stealth. Her eyes moved to his. Held, before she turned away and whispered something in Lady Lamerton’s ear. Dale’s voice was still talking.

  ‘Good. Keep me informed of its progress. If you will excuse me, sir.’ Ned’s eyes followed Emma as she left the ballroom.

  * * *

  The curtains had been drawn within the study. A single branch of candles had been lit, its soft flickering glow the only point of illumination in the darkness.

  He was standing by the fireplace, staring into the blackened grate, a half-empty glass of brandy in his hand. Waiting.

  ‘Devlin,’ she said and closed the door softly behind her.

  * * *

  ‘A word, if you please.’ Ned collared the footman behind the column in the corner of the ballroom, the same footman who had passed Emma the letter, and pressed a Bank of England five-pound note into the man’s palm.

  The footman pocketed the money. ‘For that you can have any word you like, sir.’

  ‘The name of the person who gave you the letter for Miss Northcote.’

  ‘That would be Lord Devlin,’ said the footman. ‘Saw him heading for Colonel Morley’s study.’

  Ned pressed another banknote into the man’s hand and set his untouched glass of champagne down on the footman’s tray.

  Ned’s face was grim as he made his way from the ballroom.

  * * *

  Within the dimly lit study Devlin made no move. He did not so much as glance round.

  Emma walked closer.

  ‘You said you had news of Kit.’

  But Devlin still stood where he was. Gave no reaction, as if he had not heard her. Not until she walked right up to him. She could see the way he was staring at that grate, with such a dark brooding look upon his face that made her dread that the news was the worst.

  ‘Devlin?’ she said softly.

  He finished the rest of the brandy from the glass in a single gulp. Set the crystal down on the black-marble mantelpiece with a thump. And finally turned to face her.

  ‘I lied,’ he said.

  She stared at him. ‘I do not understand... Why would you send me that note saying—?’ She stopped as the sinking realisation hit her.

  ‘I see you do understand after all.’ He did not smile. Just looked at her. ‘That I wanted to get you here alone.’

  ‘How despicable of you to use my brother’s name to do so. Especially after your role in his downfall.’

  Guilt flashed across his face. He looked away. And when he looked at her again there was angry cynicism in his eyes. ‘No one put a pistol to his head and forced him to the gaming tables.’

  ‘Maybe not. But he was a boy and you and the others, men of the world that he looked up to, you led him astray.’


  ‘Kit was no child, Emma. He was a foolish man, but a man nevertheless. A man who made his own choices. And one who has to face the consequences of his actions. As all men do, Emma.’ There was guilt in his eyes, heartrending and obvious before he hid it once more. ‘You cannot blame others in his stead.’

  ‘I am not a fool. I know my brother was not blameless. He gambled the money, after all. But you and the others let him stake his last penny. You let him stake it all. You should have stopped him, Devlin. You were supposed to be his friends!’

  ‘We were his friends.’ He gave a cold mirthless smile. ‘We still are.’

  ‘Spare me the pretence.’

  ‘As you insist.’

  The silence pulsed between them. His eyes held hers with cool determination.

  ‘If you will excuse me, Lord Devlin.’

  ‘I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave.’

  His words stroked a shiver of fear down her spine, but she regarded him with disdain to hide it. She calmly turned to walk away, but Devlin’s hand caught her arm and held her firm.

  ‘You should not have turned me down, Emma.’

  She felt the dread slip into her blood like a single splash into a still, deep pool. She looked pointedly at where his hand held tight to her arm, then raised her eyes to meet his, feigning a calm confidence she did not feel.

  ‘What are you doing, Devlin?’

  ‘Whatever I have to.’ His voice was soft in contrast to the hard determination in his eyes.

  Fear drummed loud and insistent through her heart. She tried to pull free, but Devlin’s grip was unbreakable. She ceased her struggle and conserved her energy. Faced him boldly. ‘What do you mean to do, Devlin?’

  ‘Save you from Stratham.’

  She gave a cynical laugh and shook her head.

  Devlin did not smile. His expression was cold, un-amused, frightening.

  She glanced again at where his fingers were locked around her arm. Then looked into his eyes with derision. ‘And you lambast him for not being a gentleman?’

  ‘Sometimes the end justifies the means,’ he said quietly and pulled her close. So close she could see the striations in those dark eyes of his and feel his breath warm against her cheek.