Hold Your Breath 01 - Stone Devil Duke

by K. J. Jackson

  “Yes, please do so. I am not looking to become a harlot, mind you, but you are injured because of me.” The dim carriage light did little to mask the color that was quickly flushing her face on the few sootless areas. She shifted her eyes from Devin to the far upper corner of the coach.

  Devin took that as his cue to get on with the shirt removal. He did so slowly, prolonging Aggie’s obvious embarrassment, intentionally bumping her several times as he struggled out of his waistcoat, braces, and linen shirt.

  He cleared his throat.

  Aggie didn’t turn back.

  He cleared it again with a little more insistence.

  Aggie abruptly swung her head back, her eyes locking onto Devin’s bare arm. She reached out to softly touch the wound. Much of the blood about the gash was dried, falling from her touch. A good sign. She prodded about the wound, pulling the skin slightly.

  “It, ah,” she cleared her throat, “it should be fine. The knife did not slice very deep at all. Just have your man wash it thoroughly when you arrive home.” She offered a weak smile, her head still next to his arm, still staring intently at the wound, eyes refusing to veer.

  “Are you positive it did not go too deep?” Devin shifted his weight to investigate himself, effectively positioning his chest directly in front of Aggie’s face.

  He held in a laugh when she froze, hands in mid-air, staring at his naked chest. Her head tilted downward, and Devin could see she wasn’t closing her eyes against the show in front of her.

  Her breathing had all but stopped, and Devin wasn’t so convinced she truly wanted to avoid becoming a harlot. He shifted in his trousers that were quickly becoming a little tight. He wasn’t going to get to his questions if she kept looking at him like that.

  “Aggie, dear—”

  Aggie’s head shot straight up, knocking her forehead into Devin’s chin and jamming his teeth together.

  “Oh no, your grace.” Her hand reached out to touch the side of his jawbone. “I am so sorry, I…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze fell down to his chest once more.

  “Yes?” Devin prodded.

  Aggie jumped again, this time to the opposite bench. Her hand went in front of her mouth, clearly mortified at her own gawking. Eyes darting to the side window, she looked like she was either planning on crawling out of it, or hoping another knife would come flying into the coach to put her out of her humiliation.

  Devin rubbed his twanging jaw, contemplating her, waiting for her.

  She took a deep breath, hand dropping from her lips.

  “Could you please put your shirt back on?” Her voice turned meek as words tumbled together. “As the wound is not deep, or life-threatening, it is not at all proper for us…for you…to be…well, without enough clothes on, with…ahem, the two of us being here alone…”

  Devin saw it took amazing restraint, but Aggie finally made her mouth close.

  He nodded, very serious. “Yes, Aggie, you are quite right. This is not at all proper.” He put his shirt on, his movements not impeded at all by the small wound.

  “Good, I am glad you agree.” Her agreement didn’t stop her eyes from searching out the last glimpse of his chest disappearing beneath the once crisp shirt. Then her look flew down to her lap. “And I apologize about the wound. It should have been mine.”

  “Aggie, look at me.”

  Her eyes lifted.

  “No, it should not have been. Not yours.”

  Her gaze slipped back down to her hands. “I am sorry. I honestly regret your injury. That you have been hurt because of me.”

  Devin hadn’t given the scratch a second thought, but he could tell Aggie was plagued with guilt over the injury. He couldn’t let an opportunity like that slide away.

  “If you truly are apologetic, I think you could prove your regret by calling me Devin.”

  “Your grace, that is too intimate.”

  “And where your hands just were, was not?”

  Eyes to the carriage ceiling, Aggie sighed, buying a moment. “Your name, your grace. If I use it, it makes promises of future encounters. I am hoping we end these very soon.”

  “I am sitting here, wound in my shoulder, bloody because of the situation you put me in, and you are going to deny me simplicity in conversation?”

  “Fine, your grace. Devin.” She gave a beaten-but-not-out smile, which quickly disappeared with her next words. “But if you are going to use your wound as leverage against me, I would like to remind you that you put yourself in this situation tonight. I did not invite you into this carriage. That was your own doing.”

  Devin sighed. “We are back to that then?”

  “We are.” Aggie crossed her arms.

  They stared at each other for an extended moment, will against will.

  “Aggie, whether you will admit it to yourself or not, you need my help. You are foolishly putting yourself in harm’s way. It is not necessary. These men can easily and efficiently be disposed of in a more discrete manner.”

  He leaned forward, his forearms resting upon his knees as he pinned Aggie under his best intimidating glare. It buckled the strongest of men, and he didn’t care if it scared her. He needed to inspire the direness of the situation to her.

  “Aggie, the harm you would do to your family, if you were injured or killed, far outweighs any sense of satisfaction that may be achieved when these men are brought to justice. You need to believe me on that one. You have been reckless in going about this entire mess. And you need to acknowledge the fact that you are no match for ruthless men such as these.”

  Aggie took a deep breath as her eyes closed and her head shook slowly. He hadn’t scared her in the slightest.

  She looked at him, tears fighting on the brim of her soot-lined eyes.

  “I do not think you understand how easy it would be for me to just accept your help, your grace…to pass this responsibility off.” She looked down and began to play with a corner of her overcoat that had landed in her lap. “I dream of being able to do that. I dream of having my simple life in the country back. I am so tired, and I just wish sometimes that someone would come along and tell me everything is going to be alright. That they would take care of me. So I could crawl into bed and pretend none of this ever happened. That I don’t have to worry. That I am safe. That my family is safe. I wish my father were alive. I wish my brother was back. ”

  Green eyes lifted to meet grey ones.

  “But they are not. Which is exactly why I cannot pass responsibility. Only I can guarantee those things to myself.”

  She looked away.

  “And if I fail, there is no one to blame but me.” An awkward chuckle left her lips. “I will be dead, but that is a much better fate than having someone else die because of me and my cowardice to my responsibility.”

  “This is not a game they play, Aggie. This is your life. You dying is not all right.”

  “I know you think I am stupid—an idiot for doing all this on my own. That I have no idea what they could really do to me. But I do…” Her voice caught as her eyes closed off a memory.

  Devin waited.

  The corners of her closed eyes crinkled in pain. “I do know. I know very well.”

  Her hand moved off her lap, slipping under the edge of her cloak. Devin saw her fingers slip onto her bare left forearm.

  A vile rage rose into his throat.

  “The scar?”

  Her hand gripped tight over the pink line of scar tissue, as her head tilted back to rest on the seat cushion, eyes still not opening. Her voice so soft, Devin had to lean forward to hear her as her words floated to the ceiling.

  “I have no illusions about pain or death, Devin. I know this isn’t a game. I know the raw brutality…what failure feels like. The pain of blood. Of knife in skin.”

  Devin’s imagination went wild. And the picture he conjured in his mind of Aggie at the mercy of the cutthroats—it was all he could do to remain in the carriage instead of out on the dark street, tracking down the basta
rds, and sending them not just to death, but slow, tortured, mangled death.

  “It is why I will not be responsible for involving an innocent in what I must do to save my own life. Your injury tonight is just a reminder of that,” Aggie said, her words slow and measured. “I am the only one responsible for me. For my family. Even after last night, you are still an innocent in this. I cannot add more injuries, or heaven forbid, your death, onto my conscience. I am fine. I will be fine. Truly.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. Pleading through pain. “Please, Devin. Please just walk away. I am begging you. Please. Walk away.”

  Silent, Devin moved forward, eyes locked on hers. He slid his hand under her cloak sleeve, gently prying her fingers from the scar and pulling her arm out from the depths of the fabric. The tips of his fingers slid up the scar, then back down. His eyes didn’t lose contact.

  “I am not going anywhere, Aggie.”

  “Please…”

  “No.” His fingers slid up her arm again. “This is despicable—unacceptable. Those bastards will not harm you again.”

  Silence settled in the coach. Devin stared at Aggie, waiting. She fidgeted, looking everywhere but at him, knowing she had revealed too much, offered up too much vulnerability.

  He didn’t let her arm go from his grasp.

  After a few minutes, she finally looked directly at him. “What is in this for you? Honesty, please. Why do you want to help me? I thank God for your help last night. It was above the duty of a stranger. But why help me now?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Please.”

  “You intrigue me, Lady Augustine. You drive a hack. Can shoot a man dead with perfect aim. Hours later you create the perfect persona of a young lady of the ton. You wear breeches quite well. If there is anyone like you, I have yet to meet her. Although I am already well convinced you are one-of-a-kind. But all of that is minor, next to the fact that this,” he rubbed her arm, producing goose bumps under the pads of his fingertips, “this whole threat upon your life is just plain wrong. What it has forced you to do. It hits at my core. A core I had not even suspected I had.”

  She tried to pull her arm from his grasp. No success. “But what you will want in return…I am afraid I do not think I can give you what you want, Devin. I may be unconventional—”

  “May be?”

  “Fine, I am unconventional, but circumstances demand it of me. I am mostly very conventional. Truly. What you want in return for your assistance…”

  The earlier blush returned to her face.

  “You do not need to fret, Lady Augustine. I demand nothing of you. Nothing except acceptance of my help.” He let the side of his mouth slip up. “Although I do grow weary over bickering about my involvement in your situation. That you could free me of.”

  Her mouth opened, and she looked for a moment like she was going to continue to resist. Her mouth closed, and she looked down at his hand on her arm. “Nothing from me?” Her eyes moved up to his. “Can I believe that?”

  “Have I given you any reason not to trust me? Aside from stalking you and finding a way into the carriage, of course.”

  “No. I do not suppose you have. Fine. I will stop my resistance.”

  She slid from under his arm and stood to exit the carriage. A step, and she froze, her eyes captured by the knife embedded in the side of the wine-velvet cushion. A shaking gasp invaded her body.

  With trembling hand, she reached out slowly and touched the previously unnoticed trinket hanging from the knife. Blood splattered and half dug into the cushion, a pretty peach reticule hung from the blade.

  “What is that?”

  Aggie’s hand jerked away from the knife. Devin had to strain to hear her.

  “I gave it to him.”

  Her hand went back to the reticule.

  “Who?”

  “Tommy…my help, my runner’s apprentice. I gave it to him tonight.” Aggie choked the words out, hand gripping the bloody reticule.

  “My God. Look at this. What would they have done to him? He is so young. Why?” She took a deep breath, controlling the panic. “He has to be all right. He is smart, he will be fine. He has to be.”

  She collapsed onto the bench, eyes closed, voice wispy. “They are too close. They know my horse, my carriage. Your arm. Tommy. This is too much blood.” She opened her eyes and ripped the purse from the knife, gripping it tightly in her hand.

  Head hung, Aggie stood and stepped out of the carriage, not waiting for Devin to reply.

  Devin followed her. “Aggie, yes, they know.” He notched his voice into gentle, or at least what he hoped was gentle, as he grabbed her hand to help her up to the driver’s perch.

  He vaulted up beside her and grabbed the reins, sending her horse forward. “After last night, they know exactly what you have been doing, and who you are pretending to be. You cannot deny it. So this charade is now finished. You will go home, leave these men to me, and cease putting yourself in needless danger night after night.”

  Turning onto a main thoroughfare, he couldn’t hold in a sigh, shaking his head. “Clearly the men in your life have had a hard time saying ‘no’ to you, Aggie, which is why you now find yourself in your current state. Make no mistake. I have no such reservations. The only thing you should be hearing right now is ‘no.’ The biggest no you have ever heard in your life, ringing in your ears. You are stopping this nonsense.”

  Devin hoped her head-down silence, meant that maybe, just maybe, she was actually listening to him.

  “I understand. I can see that panic drove you to this point. But your panic needs to stop. Your planning. Your scheming. All of it needs to stop. I will take care of the remaining men, and I will condone no more of your late-night sneak-outs.”

  Her hands tightened in her lap. Devin could feel her whole body recoil next to his. But she didn’t look up. Didn’t challenge.

  “If I find you out again, Aggie, I will drag you to your aunt and uncle’s home. They will be told what is going on and what you have been doing. They might forgive you for such a transgression, or they might not. Either way, they will not forget. And I will have them put you under lock and key until I resolve this situation.”

  At the alley a block away from Aggie’s townhouse, Devin slowed the hack. Aggie slipped off the perch before Devin stopped the wheels, and she started to walk stoically, gait stiff, past the courtyards behind the houses.

  He didn’t like the complete avoidance. She was either completely humiliated, or planning something. He didn’t like where his strongest suspicion took him.

  “Aggie,” he said, voice loud but low. She stopped, but didn’t turn around to him. “I expect to see you at the Appleton party this evening, per your previous commitment.”

  A silent nod, and she moved forward, disappearing into her house.

  No. He didn’t like at all what he suspected.

  { Chapter 7 }

  Warm night air filtered in through the tall window she stood next to, and Aggie leaned slightly to the breeze. If it weren’t for the whiffs of air, she would have passed out long ago from the combination of no sleep and the stuffy crowd. The party twinkled, music filtering through the crowd and chandeliers casting a warm, glowing quality above the sea of lightly colored gowns and contrasting dark colors.

  Aunt Beatrix stood by her side, talking endlessly with her friends about which of the men present were rakes, scoundrels, gold-diggers, or solid husband material.

  Aggie couldn’t count the number of times her aunt, or one of her aunt’s friends, turned to her, and with sly confidence, berated her for whatever social sin they believed Aggie was committing at a particular moment—stand straighter, bigger smile, flutter the fan, too many blinks, smaller smile. Each of the ladies surrounding her was convinced introductions would roll in if Aggie just tried a bit harder.

  Introductions and requests to land on her dance card petered in, and Aggie danced a few sets, but whenever another dance or more conversation was requested of her
, she always politely made excuses to get back to her aunt.

  Each time, Aggie could see the disappointment in Aunt Beatrix’s face as she made her way back to her aunt’s side. It was like this at every soirée. And although Aggie appeared to be continually scanning the attendees of the party, she was not looking for interesting, marriageable men—she was looking for one man.

  One evil face. The one face she had to find. The one face that would grant her peace. Even if the duke found the other two bastards and disposed of them, she would not be at peace. Devin didn’t know about the fifth man. The one Aggie was desperate to find. Their leader.

  He was the one that had put the final bullet into her father.

  A familiar pang rang across her left arm. The one that had cut her.

  He was too well-dressed, talked too much in the cadence of a gentleman for him not to be part of society. She was positive if she searched hard enough, she would find the man.

  Party after party, ball after ball, she scoured. But she had yet to find him. And until she did, she had to continue putting on a false front at these parties—with at least enough pleasantness to ensure the invitations kept coming.

  Her initial certainty that society would be the best place to find the man who killed her father was beginning to wane. But his ego and wardrobe still had her convinced he would show up in society eventually. Aggie just prayed he would appear soon—either in society or given away by one of his thugs.

  A young man, blond hair just barely hanging out of his eyes, approached her at that moment, flanked by Aggie’s aunt, who was wearing a cat-caught-mouse grin on her face. Introductions to Lord Ferrington were made, and Aggie politely allowed herself to be led to the dance floor.

  Not two turns in, Aggie was astonished by Lord Ferrington’s pretentiousness. Her aunt must be getting desperate if this was the best that could now be produced. Aggie bit her lip as he swept her through the crowd, trying to remain agreeable, docile, and dumb. It was an easy enough task, and afforded her a nice round of face searching.

  Dance over, Aggie escaped the Baron and made her way back through the throng to her aunt. Her aunt started in before Aggie’s feet stopped.