She’d broken off abruptly, uncomfortable at finishing the thought.
“Because?” he prompted.
“Because it isn’t merely your intentions that are the cause of concern. I am not immune to your charm, whatever you may believe. I am drawn to you, as it appears you are to me, and failing to acknowledge that could be disastrous for us both. It’s best to be open and take precautions against any inadvisable action.”
A soft laugh escaped him. “I’ve never heard it termed such… inadvisable action. How can you be certain that my intentions aren’t honorable?”
“Even if your intentions are honorable, we both know I would have to reject any offers from you. To do less would be dishonor on my own part.”
“Because you are illegitimate? Many men marry women whose birth is questionable and vice versa!”
“The illegitimate offspring of titled lords and ladies, or the exalted mistresses of men who have wealth, power, and social cache! My mother was the daughter of a baker, and she was selling far more than bread when she met my father! It’s hardly the same thing!”
“What a terrible snob you are, Willa. If your birth and station are not obstacles for me, why on earth should they be for you?”
It was her turn to laugh. “Are you proposing then?”
“Not as such,” he said. “Merely pointing out that if I should choose to do so, your station would be neither an impediment nor an inducement. It is inconsequential, in fact.”
“Inconsequential?” she asked with a snap to her voice.
“Rest easy. I do not say so to dismiss what you have surely endured in your life as a result of your father’s dishonorable behavior toward your mother… I only say that I care not for the opinions of others. They do not dictate my choices.”
She scoffed at that. “Nor do they dictate your behavior given how freely you have courted scandal. I’d be nothing more than another one to add to your very long list. I wonder, in fact, if that is not a source of my appeal to you. What better way to thumb your nose at society, after all?”
“You do yourself a disservice, Wilhelmina—Willa—if you think that your appeal is sourced from anything but your own person and the numerous charms you possess. But we shall call Pax for now, and I can attest that my intentions are pure, even if my thoughts are not,” he vowed firmly.
There was no further opportunity to speak as the carriage rolled to a halt before the townhouse. The guards were not present, but then it was a short enough distance from the carriage to the door that he felt perfectly able to defend them from any threat in that space. “Wait inside the carriage until I tell you it is clear,” he said.
“We will, my lord.”
“Douglas.” It was an absentminded correction, because his mind was already occupied outside the carriage, scanning the street for potential dangers prior to disembarking.
*
“Douglas.” The name was but a whisper upon her lips, but he was already gone, out into the street to survey their surroundings. Next to her, Marina stirred but did not awaken. The conversation in the coach had left her shaken, uncertain and as terrified of her own intentions and her own potential wickedness as she was of his.
He was too handsome, too witty, too much of everything, in truth. He left her feeling unsettled—wanting. She wasn’t so foolish as to not understand attraction and even desire. Had she not borne witness to her mother’s disgraces, after all? While she’d had no experience herself with carnal matters, she was not ignorant of them. It took little imagination to suspect that Douglas Ashton, Lord Deveril, would be an expert in such matters and that if she chose to travel that dangerous path, no one else could lead her down with such abandon and undeniable pleasure. But such thoughts were not conducive to her maintaining the propriety that she demanded from him.
“Come along, Marina. Wake up, child,” she muttered softly. “We must go into the house, dear.”
The little girl did not rouse but simply snuggled more deeply into her side. Clearly contenting herself with the notion that she’d be forced to simply carry the tot inside, Willa smiled. “I know you’re awake and that you are simply pretending, but it’s all right. You needn’t walk if you do not wish to. I shall carry you.”
She felt the girl’s smile though it was far too dark in the carriage for her to see it. Still, it prompted one of her own. Tugging the child closer, Willa lifted her and rose to disembark from the coach. Opening the door, she peered out. “Is it clear?”
Lord Deveril didn’t immediately respond, remaining quiet. After a moment, he gave a jerky nod. When he spoke, he said, “Stay alert. I see nothing, but I cannot help but feel there is something that is not quite right.” He’d no more than uttered the words than two dark figures emerged from the shadows.
“Douglas?” Willa whispered, her voice tremulous with fear.
“Run. Get her inside,” he commanded sharply.
Chapter Sixteen
Spurred by the urgency in his voice and by the fear she felt for Marina, Willa did as he commanded. She leapt down from the carriage, ignoring the pain in her feet as the thin soles of her walking boots connected with the paving stones. She made for the door with Marina clutched closely to her. She had not even raised her hand to knock when the door opened and the butler stared askance at her. Willa ignored his scandalized expression. “Send footmen out at once to aid Lord Deveril. He’s been set upon by footpads!”
The butler sprang into action immediately, and several strong and able-bodied footmen rushed through the door from whence she had just entered. It was fear more than anything else that prompted her to sink onto the stairs with Marina still clinging to her. She glanced down at the child and saw that the girl’s face was white and her eyes were closed so tightly.
“It’s all right, love. You’re safe here. I’ve got you. And Lord Deveril will be just fine.”
“He sent them to get me,” the little girl whispered. It was apparent from her tone and the look of terror on her tiny face that she feared the man she spoke of and that she had good reason to.
Willa stroked the little girl’s hair and murmured softly, “No one’s going to get you, my darling girl. You uncle will send them away and all will be well.”
“No. No. No.”
“Who do you think sent them, Marina?”
The little girl sobbed again. “Man in the park.”
“Did you know him before you came here, Marina? Perhaps when you were with your mother?” Willa asked.
The little girl nodded but closed her lips together in a way that indicated she’d say nothing further. It was an expression Willa was becoming accustomed to.
“Is he your father?”
The little girl nodded again, still clinging to her fiercely.
“Did he strike you, Marina?”
This was answered with a shake of the little girl’s head.
“Did he strike your mother then?” Willa asked.
To that, the child nodded and sobbed harder.
“He’ll never hurt her again. She’s far beyond his reach, my dearest, and your uncle will never let him harm you. I promise,” Willa offered as soothingly as she could. It was difficult to keep her tone calm when she was terrified of what was occurring just beyond the door. She’d seen the two men emerging from the shadows though she hadn’t gotten a good look at them. Nonetheless, she feared for Lord Deveril. He had been a soldier, and she had little doubt that he would be able to handle himself adeptly in such an altercation, but those men were criminals and armed.
*
Devil stared at the two large men, sizing them up and measuring his own ability to emerge unscathed. It didn’t look good. They looked enough alike that they could be twins. If not, they were brothers at the least of it. That was unfortunate. Fighting a pair of siblings was always difficult. They seemed able to read one another’s minds almost, to predict what the other would do. It made them formidable opponents even more so than the size of their bodies. But there were certain points in h
is favor. The larger of the two was a bit more lumbering in his movements. He lacked the grace of a natural fighter, and if he fell, he’d fall hard. That was the goal then, get him on the ground and out of commission right out of the gate.
As they circled one another, the slightly smaller and significantly more nimble of the two chuckled. “A toff like you… think you can take us, do you?”
He didn’t need to take them. Only delay them. At least some of the guards he’d hired were en route via a hired hack while others made the trek on foot. Some of them would no doubt arrive within minutes. “I think I’ll give you more trouble than you’re expecting,” Devil said. It was a modest statement. He’d been trained in hand to hand combat, in Eastern styles of fighting that those men would likely have never seen before. It was to his benefit if they underestimated him.
The larger of the two lunged at him then. Devil sidestepped easily and, as the man passed him, grasped the man’s coat and tugged it upward, binding his arms and putting him off balance. The hired ruffian careened into the side of the building, his head bouncing off the stone steps as he tumbled.
“Lummox,” the other henchman murmured as he withdrew a wicked-looking blade from inside his coat. “You’ll find me a bit harder to knock senseless.”
“Duly noted,” Devil said, fully aware of the blade and the fact that the man handled it with a degree of skill that warranted wariness. “I suppose the question is what motivates you? If it’s money, I can offer you as much to go away as West paid you to come here.”
The man shrugged. “Toffs ain’t the only ones what keep their word.”
“West won’t. He’s promised you funds he doesn’t have,” Devil said.
“That’s between me and him, ain’t it?”
There was no reasoning with the man, Devil realized. He’d made his choices and he meant to stick by them. The only thing he could do was prepare to defend himself. With that in mind, Devil watched him closely. He ignored the blade. It would never tell the story. To know what the villain would do, he’d need to watch the man’s eyes. His every intent would play out there for the world to see, if one had the ability to read it. And Devil did. His time in the army had seen to it.
They circled one another slowly. But, just as he’d suspected, Devil could tell. The other man’s nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed, and then he lunged. Devil was ready for him. He stepped to the side once more, but his opponent was far more skilled than he’d allowed for, and ambidextrous. As he moved past him, the blade switched from one hand to the next and sliced through the sleeve of Devil’s coat.
His flesh burned from the cut, but Devil ignored it. He whirled away swiftly, preventing further damage, just as he brought a booted foot up and caught the other man on his knee, sending him to the ground just as his brother roused.
At that moment, a bevy of footmen erupted from the house. They eyed the melee with trepidation. They were ill-suited to intervene, all of them young and green as grass. They didn’t know how to fight, much less face an assailant armed with a blade. But it was the commotion at the end of the street that caused them all to glance up. It was the remainder of Devil’s hired guards making their way toward them in the nick of time.
“Get up!” the knife-wielding assailant hissed at his companion. Together, the two men stumbled toward the nearest alley. Only seconds later, a cart emerged, the two of them on the back of it and made off down the street.
Gripping his upper arm to stanch the flow of blood, Devil watched their escape. Perhaps it was unwise to let them go. Of course, West likely didn’t have money to replace them as assailants. Knowing their faces would give him an edge as they could no longer blend into the crowd. At least, if they were to come after them again, Devil would spot them a mile away.
Cursing, he climbed the steps and made his way inside. He wanted a drink, but had given up all of his vices, not to mention his endless suffering from somewhat unrequited lust. Almost from the first moment he’d set eyes on Miss Wilhelmina Marks, he’d been exercising self-denial. The physical altercation outside had provided at least some kind of release. Resolving to go more frequently to Gentleman Jackson’s, Devil surveyed his niece and her secret governess with concern.
“How badly are you injured?” Willa demanded. “We need to send for the doctor.”
“There’s no need,” he said. “It’s but a scratch.”
Her eyes widened even as her jaw firmed with indignation he knew he would pay for later. “A scratch? And was this scratch made with a knife or a sword?”
Devil noted the high color in Willa’s cheeks, the firm jut of her chin, and the tightness of her features. She had gone from terrified to angry, and it was safe to say that her anger was, in that moment, directed at him. “My valet can tend the wound with skill that is at least equal and likely surpasses what most physicians might provide. Why don’t you get Marina settled with Mrs. Farrelly and then we may discuss it further.” He made the offer in a conciliatory tone though it was apparent to him that she was in no mood to accept it accordingly.
Willa rose with Marina still in her arms and began to climb the stairs, Devil right behind her. He was enjoying the sway of her hips beneath her skirts far more than was advisable. That was the problem with a good row; it got the blood up, and there was no relief in sight. Mrs. Farrelly met them on the landing, clucking sympathetically as she plucked Marina from Willa’s arms and fussed over the girl. He wondered if perhaps the housekeeper’s cosseting of the child was the best approach but, at the same time, Marina would let so few people near her there was really no other option.
At the top of the stairs, their paths diverged. Willa followed Mrs. Farrelly toward the nursery while he turned toward his own chambers. The door had not even closed behind him as he began stripping off his ruined coat and waistcoat. He was pulling his shirt over his head and tossing the stained garment on the floor when a soft but rapid series of knocks sounded on the door. It opened, and Wilhelmina stepped inside. She closed the door behind her and turned toward him. Only then did she note his state of undress. Her eyes widened, her cheeks pinkened even further, and then she simply averted her gaze.
“I did not realize you were not dressed,” she said, clearly discomfited. “I will return later.”
“Are you certain you don’t wish to inspect the wound yourself?” he asked. It was as much about goading her as it was about the fact that he didn’t want to see her go. Being so close to her was a temptation he could ill afford, but it held its own unique pleasures.
While she was not looking directly at him, her perfect profile was presented, and it was evident when her eyebrows rose upward. Her expression revealed her suspicions. “And deprive your very capable valet of the chance to utilize his medical skills? I think not.”
Nothing more was said as the valet did, indeed, come rushing in at that moment, his medical supplies in hand. A maid was right behind him, carrying a ewer of clean water.
“My lord,” the valet said, his tone concerned.
Devil looked down at his chest which was liberally coated with blood and conceded that the wound might be more than a scratch, but it was hardly cause for such worry and fuss.
“Don’t be a mother hen, Whittinger. Just dress the wound and be done with it. My betrothed and I have much to discuss, particularly the fact that there will not be any further outings of any sort until West is apprehended,” Devil said. He looked up at Willa. “No protests from you?”
“No,” she replied. “I have no reason to protest. In fact, I was going to suggest that very thing. I think, for the time being, that Marina should be restricted to the confines of the house and the small garden out back. The risks are too great and Mr. West too unpredictable… and too determined it would seem.”
Devil nodded as Whittinger began cleaning the wound, plucking at the fibers from his clothes that were now trapped in it. Wilhelmina’s face blanched and she looked away once more. Using her shock and upset at his condition to his advantage, Devil pres
sed on. “I’m glad you are in agreement, Miss Marks, because that edict will apply to you as well. West has seen you with Marina. He knows the girl is attached to you just as he has now seen that you are attached to her. He may not understand the nature of our relationship, but he will likely have surmised that you could be used to sway me just as Marina could. It’s a risk I will not have you take.”
She blinked owlishly for a moment. “I am to be confined to the house as well then? I am not a prisoner, my lord. I am a go—”
“My betrothed. And as such, I cannot risk the stain upon my conscience and, even more so, the pain it would cause me if something were to happen to you when it is in my power to prevent it,” he cut her off. While he was fairly certain that most of servants suspected their betrothal was a sham, no one needed to know the true nature of their arrangement. It would create gossip that West could likely use to his advantage.
Wilhelmina drew in a deep settling breath. “For how long?”
Whittinger began stitching the knife wound. He’d applied the disgusting salve that he always used for such injuries, a repulsive but effective concoction that he’d discovered while serving as Devil’s batman in India. The mixture had pain relieving properties and had also prevented putrefaction of the any wounds it had ever been applied to. The smell was indescribable and positively rank. But as the valet began dragging the needle through his flesh, Devil felt only the tug and pull of the thread rather than the agony he should have. It was unnerving but relatively painless.
“I hope it will not be for very long, Miss Marks. It is not my wish that you should feel confined or imprisoned in my home. But these are risks we cannot afford to take. Please, I would have your consent,” he said.
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