A Rogue to Remember

by Bowlin, Chasity

  “Aunt, please,” Devil snapped.

  Lady Carringden’s eyes widened, her expression managing to appear both deeply wounded and indignant at the same time. “Very well, I shall retire to my room if my opinions and input have so little value!” She did just that, her skirts whirling as she turned and swishing behind her as she marched away.

  “I can’t say really how a person looks dishonest,” Miss Marks said softly. “It’s just a feeling when you look at certain people. I’m certain you understand that, Lord Deveril.”

  He’d give her that. He did. “Wait here.”

  Devil moved past Miss Marks, sparing a glance for Marina who continued to cling to her in apparent terror and hysteria. He moved quickly, though it was unlikely the man would still be present. But as Devil crossed the street and stepped through the gate to the park, he realized very quickly that he’d been wrong. The gentleman, if he could, in fact, be called that, was still there. He’d changed positions, likely in pursuit of Miss Marks, and was now leaning nonchalantly against a lamp post, but with a perfect view of their front door to observe any comings and goings. When he saw Devil, his nonchalance fled. The man rose and turned, walking quickly until he disappeared into a throng of pedestrians.

  Devil forced his way through the crowd as a bevy of nannies attempted to return their charges home for nap time. But it was no use. The man had the perfect camouflage—dressed as a gentleman. He had vanished into the ranks of others with similar attire and bearing. The mysterious man was simply gone and, with him, any hope of uncovering his motives.

  Devil let out a muffled curse, and one of the ladies walking past him squawked in dismay. He offered her what he hoped was an apologetic smile, but she did not appear to be the forgiving sort. She glared at him and whirled away, presenting her back to him as she huffed out a breath.

  Reluctantly, Devil turned and headed back to the townhouse. He crossed the street and entered the chaos that was his home. Marina was still crying, though not quite as intensely. Mrs. Farrelly was fanning herself more furiously than a debutante trying to draw attention to herself.

  It seemed that curiosity had won out over pique and his aunt had returned to the drawing room. She was glaring daggers at everyone else present as she paced stridently back and forth.

  Miss Marks stood in the midst of it all, perfectly still as she held Marina, a bastion of calm in the midst of insanity.

  “It was a waste of time, wasn’t it? Wild goose chases for a dishonest-looking person! It’s London, for heaven’s sake. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t look dishonest!” his aunt snapped, her eyes lighting with victory.

  Devil eyed her with reproach. “Perhaps you could retire to your room again. I find your presence more tolerable when it’s at least one room removed.”

  “Did you find him?” Miss Marks asked, ignoring the barbed exchange entirely as her malcontent of a chaperone stormed past her.

  “I saw him. But he also saw me. He fled and I lost sight of him in the crowd.”

  Miss Marks’ brows drew together, a tiny furrow forming there as she asked a troubling question. “Then it couldn’t have been a random occurrence or an overreaction on our part! He was watching us and ran from you… that means he knows who you are and, consequently, knows who we are.”

  “So it does, Miss Marks,” he agreed. “So it does. From this point forward, any outings will be accompanied by at least two footmen, and I will see about obtaining more suitable protection. Until we even the odds and at least know who he is and what his intentions are, it’s a risk I’m unwilling to take.”

  She didn’t argue. That, in and of itself, was a surprise. But her frown only deepened and then she nodded. “I think that’s for the best.”

  “Let’s get the wee one upstairs, Miss Marks. Perhaps she’ll calm down away from all of these prying eyes,” Mrs. Farrelly suggested.

  “Once she’s calmed down, meet me in the library, Miss Marks,” Devil said. “We clearly have far more to discuss than either of us realized.”

  “I’ll return shortly,” she said and turned to climb the stairs with the little girl still clinging to her.

  Devil followed behind them until they reached the landing that would lead them to the upper floor and the nursery. He stood there, watching their figures until they disappeared from sight.

  “Well, whatever else may have come of this mess today,” his aunt said softly as she approached from behind him, “at least Marina appears to have bonded with Miss Marks. We may never manage to separate them. Now you’ll have two chaperones.”

  Devil didn’t respond to his aunt’s comment or the speculation he heard in her voice. He’d never been overly fond of his aunt, but he’d never thought her a viperous person. It was clear that she had little regard for Miss Marks and that she had her own agenda. What it was, he could not say. Rather than continue to spar with her verbally, Devil retreated down the stairs once more, lost in his own thoughts.

  Miss Marks had been remarkable. Fierce, protective, maternal. She’d been like an avenging angel or a warrior queen ready to defend Marina. He couldn’t think of another woman of his acquaintance who would have gone to such lengths. But she was a product of The Hellion Club that was so often whispered of amongst gentlemen, not because it produced remarkable women but because it was a place for them to put their more embarrassing or difficult female offspring. And yet, he had witnessed precisely the kind of honor and courage such an education and upbringing would engender in its recipient. Such qualities had been readily apparent in Miss Darrow herself, as well.

  For his part, Devil had never given much thought to marriage beyond that it was something he would have to do one day. But a man could do much worse than a woman with such character. Birth and connections be damned.

  Chapter Eight

  It took longer than she’d expected to lull Marina to sleep. The little girl had clung to her, her cries slowly fading into silence as exhaustion claimed her. Once she was deeply asleep, Wilhelmina laid her on her small bed and covered her gently, careful not to disturb the child. She rose to her feet, spared one last look at the sleeping toddler, and wondered what it was that she’d witnessed in her short life that made her so terrified.

  Mrs. Farrelly was seated in a small chair in the corner. “Bless the wee little one’s heart,” the cook said. “What on earth could he have been about?”

  Willa shook her head. “I can’t say… but, Mrs. Farrelly, how closely did you look at him?”

  “A bit, Miss, but perhaps not so much as you did.”

  There was something about the man’s appearance, his dark hair and something about the shape of his face that she realized reminded her very much of the child who now slept so peacefully before her. “There are things I must discuss with his lordship, Mrs. Farrelly, about the events of this afternoon. I’ll check in on her again shortly.”

  “Aye, you had better, Miss. I think I’ve been replaced. I haven’t seen the little thing take to anyone else quite like she did with you today.”

  “It’s only because she was afraid and I pose no threat to her,” Willa protested. “I’ve certainly not replaced you in the girl’s affections.”

  “’Tisn’t affection she has for me, Miss. The poor wee one is terrified of everyone and everything. Perhaps I remind her of someone from her old life… before her mother was taken too soon from this world. I remember her mother, you know? I worked here as a housemaid when she was born. Dear, sweet Miss Alice! No one was kinder. It fair broke all our hearts when old Lord Deveril tossed her out. It wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t already sent his lordship away. They were thick as thieves as children, you know? Always together. But I suppose they had no one else, not with their mother dead and their father colder than ice to everyone!” As if realizing that she’d said far too much about the family who employed her, Mrs. Farrelly suddenly clammed up. She closed her mouth with a snap and sat stonily for a moment before adding, “I’ll sit with her a while, Miss.”<
br />
  “Thank you, Mrs. Farrelly. And you needn’t worry. I’ve no intention of saying anything about our conversations to anyone, including Lord Deveril.”

  The cook nodded. Despite her silence, the woman’s expression softened and she seemed to be put at ease.

  Leaving the nursery, Willa headed downstairs to the study where Lord Deveril awaited her. She could easily bring to mind the fierce expression he’d worn when he’d flown at the doors and through the heavy throng of traffic to the park. He’d been ready to defend Marina to any extent necessary. And her. He’d been just as willing to defend her.

  Firmly, Willa put that thought from her mind. The last thing she needed was for his already considerable appeal to increase. Besides, he was a fighter, a dueler, a brawler, if gossip was to be believed. He’d fight anyone just for the sake of it. It had naught to do with her. With that thought uppermost in her mind, she took a steadying breath at the library’s entrance before knocking softly upon the door. From inside the room, she could hear a muffled reply as he bade her enter.

  Opening the door cautiously, uncertain what she would see, Willa stepped into his study. His back was to her, and the sound of his voice had been muffled by the heavy curtains that draped the windows. He was peering out at the park across the street through a spyglass.

  “Has he returned?” she asked. “Or did he ever leave?”

  “He fled on foot earlier. He has not returned. Not that I’ve been able to discern, at any rate,” Lord Deveril answered, turning to face her. “Do you recall ever having seen him before, Miss Marks?”

  “No. I’ve never seen him before. But at the risk of sounding contradictory, there was something terribly familiar about him,” Willa said softly. “I think we must face the rather terrifying fact that he may, perhaps, be a relation of Marina’s.”

  His expression darkened alarmingly. The fearsome temper that had resulted in duels and brawls was there suddenly. Uncertain, Willa stepped back.

  “A relation to her? If he is a relation, pray tell, Miss Marks, where was he when my sister lay dying? Where was he when she’d struggled for months to keep even the most meager roof over their heads? She died because her body was weakened and malnourished because she’d been abandoned in that hellhole by those who should have been there to care for her… and I include myself in that number,” he snapped.

  “I’m not suggesting that he has a right to be part of Marina’s life, to importune this household in any way, my lord,” she offered as soothingly as possible. “But the question isn’t what I think or even what you think. At this moment, we must concern ourselves with the business of what he is thinking and why he took it upon himself to seek her out. What does he want?”

  “He likely wants money,” Lord Deveril said. “Men like that always want money.”

  Willa frowned. “And isn’t her peace of mind worth paying him?”

  Lord Deveril sighed and looked at her as if, perhaps, she’d taken leave of her senses. “If I pay him, I’ll be paying for the rest of my life and possibly the rest of hers. Not that it matters on that front, but it sets a dangerous precedent, and it gives him a kind of power in the situation that I find intolerable. The more I give him, the more he will ask… and that increases the likelihood of Marina having to see him or encounter him throughout her life when it’s obvious that he terrifies her.”

  Willa clenched her hands in front of her. She knew that he was right, of course. Payment would only provide a short term solution to the issue. He would return and demand more and more. That was true of anyone who resorted to blackmail or extortion. Of course, they were making a leap there. What if he simply wanted to be certain of the child’s safety? While she’d only seen him for a brief time, she felt certain that wasn’t the case. He’d been cold, and there had been a cruelty that she sensed in him that belied such a motive.

  A shiver raced through her as she recalled the calculating expression he’d worn as he watched them. No. Her welfare was not his motivation. Of that, she was certain. The man had been evil, and whether Marina knew him or simply sensed that in him, she couldn’t say.

  “I know that you’re right, but I simply want her to feel safe. Even if he only goes away for a short time, perhaps it would be enough to bring her round, to make her feel safe enough here to tell us what has occurred with him,” Willa admitted. “A child isn’t intended to be solitary and silent.”

  “She’s hardly silent,” he said on a bitter laugh. “She screams the house down on a daily basis.”

  “But that isn’t communication, Lord Deveril. That doesn’t allow her to express what she needs or ask for the help she requires… and the further she retreats into her pain, into her own mind, the more difficult it will be to reach her.” Willa’s voice had risen, her tone impassioned. She was terrified of what would happen to the girl if things continued on as they were. They might lose her forever.

  “Are you certain you can help her, Miss Marks? Truthfully? She has spoken to no one else. She doesn’t even speak to Mrs. Farrelly!”

  “Because others speak to her as they would speak to a child,” Willa protested.

  “She is a child!”

  “Yes, but she isn’t like other children, is she? She’s seen and experienced something horrific. As terrible as it was for you to see your sister in such a state, think what it must have been like for her! The person she depended on for her care, the person she loved and who loved her beyond anything in this world, and now she’s gone in a way that such a young child cannot possibly understand,” Willa replied, her voice rising once more. “To speak to her as one would any other child is to trivialize her experience.”

  “The maids she will tolerate. Mrs. Farrelly she adores. Myself, the butler, the footmen… she shrieks in terror,” he said, and there was a kind of desperation in his voice. “Men terrify her the most, Miss Marks, either because of what they did to her or what she has seen done to her mother. And that thought haunts me every minute of the day. When I think what might have happened to her in that vicious place to make her fear men so much—do you understand the implications of that, Miss Marks?”

  “I was not always at the Darrow School, Lord Deveril. I was placed at another school prior to it—one where the headmaster was so cruel and vicious to those girls whom no one cared for that I cannot even bear to repeat what it was he did. And before that, I lived with my mother in a place that I imagine is not so different from the very place where you found your niece. Yes, I understand the implications very well,” Willa replied. Her mother, despite the nature of her profession, had tried very hard to protect Willa. And yet it had been impossible to shield her from all the seedier aspects of daily life in their neighborhood. “I’m very thankful that you found her and that you’ve brought her someplace where she might grow to feel safe and be nurtured into a happy and healthy life. But it will take time.”

  “Time we may not have if the identity of the man I saw today is who I suspect,” he mused.

  “You think he’s her father.” It wasn’t a question. She’d suspected as much herself, but it cemented it further to hear him imply just as much.

  “I think he was my sister’s lover. I think he abandoned my sister while she was with child or perhaps later. I don’t know. Regardless of when he left her, I would hesitate to ever call such a man a father.”

  “And your own father?” It was an impertinent question, and no sooner had she uttered it than Willa regretted it. Regardless, she couldn’t call it back. She felt the heaviness of his gaze on her but, regardless, she wouldn’t shift her feet and hang her head like some misbehaving child caught in mischief.

  His head came up, his gaze locking on her in a way that was beyond intimate. “You asked for very specific boundaries between us and you violate them. That is a very personal question, Miss Marks.”

  “It is. But as you often invoke our betrothal as license to be impertinent, I thought I might as well,” she said.

  “That’s fair enough, I suppose. My
father did not deserve the moniker either. Cold, cruel, unfeeling, and without even a shred of mercy in his heart even for his own children. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that Marina is never forced to endure the less than tender mercies of such a person. I vowed to my sister that I would protect her and that, Miss Marks, is a promise I mean to keep.”

  His resolve was completely firm. It was apparent from the intractable expression on his face, the stubborn jut of his chin, and the tension in his shoulders. She’d thought he was the most attractive man she’d ever seen the first day she’d met him there. Dirty and disheveled from his carousing, he’d been ridiculously appealing. But what she was witnessing from him in those quiet moments in his study only intensified that attraction.

  “I will do whatever I can to help you to help her,” she said softly. She wanted to look away, to turn from him. And yet, in that moment, she found herself unable to do so. Something happened in that moment, an awareness that stretched between them, taut and filled with tension. With attraction. Awareness. Desire. All those things were there, and try as she might to ignore them, she could not. It had been problematic from the moment she encountered him, and the longer she was in his presence, the worse it would get.

  As if sensing her thoughts, he approached her then, pausing long enough to deposit the spyglass on the edge of his desk. He kept walking, closing the distance between them until he stood near enough that her skirts brushed his thighs when he stopped. Willa’s breath caught. Uncertain, she looked away, casting her eyes down at the floor rather than upon him lest she do something reckless and stupid.

  “I have a personal question for you now,” he said softly.

  She couldn’t refuse. She had been the one to initiate such an exchange, after all. “Very well, my lord.”

  “Have you ever known a man’s kiss?”

  “Not by choice,” she said and glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. Her view was clear enough to show the clenching of his jaw and the quiet fury that sparked in his eyes.