Hold Your Breath 01 - Stone Devil Duke

by K. J. Jackson

  “Aggie, honey, I see you have dissuaded yet another. I do not know how you manage to do it so quickly. I had to pull upon all my guile to capture Lord Ferrington as it was. You are putting them away faster than I can take them in, dear,” her aunt said good-naturedly. “Now, far be it for me—of all people—to be pushy about such matters, but maybe you should give some of these men a chance?”

  “Yes, maybe I should,” Aggie said, noncommittal.

  “It is dreadfully warm in here.” Aunt Beatrix flipped open her fan and fluttered it around her round face. “Now dear, do not be coy with your aunt. I watched you that entire dance with Lord Ferrington and you did not say but two words. I believe I even saw you openly biting your lip. Your lip! I do not care how odious a comment that man made—and yes, I am sure he made several—your mother taught you better than to bite your lip in the middle of a ballroom.”

  “Biting the lip was a bit much, was it not?”

  “I am afraid so, dear.” Beatrix smiled warmly at her niece. “Now, we both know how charming you can be when you set your mind to it, so maybe you would like to try it one of these nights?”

  The hope in her aunt’s voice sent a pang of guilt through Aggie. As if she didn’t have enough to feel guilty about. Tommy, the duke, now she couldn’t even properly paste a smile on her face for her aunt. Blast it, she needed to get some sleep. She was near to being a walking corpse.

  Even in reprimanding, her aunt was more than kind to her, and Aggie knew she had done little to deserve it. She forced a bright smile. “You are right Aunt Beatrix, I should try harder. You have been amazing at securing all of these introductions. Thank you for being so understanding.”

  Her aunt smiled in satisfaction and turned to join in on the conversation of her friends. Aggie was relieved it had been that easy. Usually her aunt went on for a bit longer.

  Aggie took a sip of champagne. She just had to make it through a few months and then she could get back to the plan for the rest of her life. Live at Clapinshire. Take care of her mother. Marry off Lizzy. Be content.

  All she had to do was participate in the season and find her father’s killers. That was all.

  At least the social functions placated her aunt and uncle, so they could at least believe they tried their best to get her a husband. Aggie knew her aunt would never forgive herself if she felt she hadn’t done all she could to find Aggie a suitable husband—Beatrix had lived through the pain of spinsterhood until she met Howard. But Aggie hoped that after this season, her aunt would turn her attentions to grooming Lizzie into a darling debutante.

  The evening wore on, and Aggie scanned the room, watching the balcony above as new arrivals were continually announced and descending down the half-circular, green marble staircase. The crush was thicker than normal, and Aggie couldn’t shake the feeling that if she didn’t look at every present person’s face, she would miss him. That one man who could end her torment. The man who murdered her father.

  The pit in her stomach expanded. The pit of failure. If she could just see a bit more, hear a bit more, search a bit more, she would find him. Two were down, but three still remained. And they knew all about her. Time was critical now.

  A flash of Lizzie and her mother home alone without her seized Aggie. She would have to put more guards on the house first thing tomorrow. Had she been thinking straight today, she would have already done so. But by the time she got in, scrubbed every bit of stubborn soot from her skin, found Tommy, rounded up a doctor for him, stayed with his mother and his baby sister for the afternoon, stopped by the stables to make sure the duke had deposited Sunshine appropriately, and made her way home to ready for the party, she was exhausted. Sleep hadn’t been an option.

  How dare the duke demand her presence here tonight? She could be at home, tucked into bed. Yes, he had assisted her—killed for her, if she was honest about it. Yes, he gave blood for her. Yes, he claimed he wanted to help her. But did that really give him control over her whereabouts?

  Yet here she was.

  Aggie cringed at the list. It actually was a generous tally in the duke’s favor.

  Aunt Beatrix nudged her in the side, head tilted to the left. “Apparently, your latest dissuasion was not as successful as you hoped.”

  Aggie ripped her eyes off the crowd and looked left, only to see Lord Ferrington moving through the crowd, his determined eyes locked on Aggie.

  She swallowed a sigh and produced a polite smile. Her aunt deserved it.

  ~~~

  Devin was in a foul mood. The search that day for the two remaining bastards was worthless. And not only had he not taken care of the men threatening Aggie, when he arrived at the Appleton party, he walked in to find Aggie immersed in conversation with Lord Ferrington. He did not like the man. Though he barely knew him, he knew of him. The baron was a bloodsucker.

  Across the wide room, Killian extracted himself from a circle of men and joined Devin, handing him a glass of Madeira.

  “My men have had no luck. Have you found out anything else?” Devin didn’t bother with pleasantries after the day Killian and he had. Even though he had a slew of investigators after the two men, he and Killian had spent most of the day visiting the lowest of the low holes trying to find the two bastards.

  Devin wasn’t stupid enough to enter those holes without Killian watching his back. Although they ferreted out those that knew of the band of four, now two—notorious in their own right—they weren’t to be found in any of the places people guessed. The two were hiding. And hiding meant planning.

  “No,” Killian said. “And I visited some of Vivienne’s most sketchy connections. No luck.”

  Devin nodded. Killian’s red-headed mistress had a rather colorful past, and she was always one to make sure she had plenty of favors to cash–in around London. “I am beginning to wonder if they are not alone. The continued attacks, they do not make sense. If we learned anything today, it was that these men are brutal, but simple idiots. Why continue after her? Why continue unless someone was prodding them. Someone who had something to lose.”

  “Could very well be,” Killian said. “You know the best person to explore that theory with is across the room. She probably knows much more than she has let on.”

  “Do you think?”

  “I do not trust. So yes, I do think so.”

  Devin sighed. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  “Happy to help. Even if it was for naught today. It is a nice change for me to help you, not the reverse.”

  Killian’s eyes followed Devin’s glaze. “Are you going to tell her we did not find them?”

  Devin took a sip of the wine he had yet to lift. “Yes. She needs to be ready for anything, since I cannot be constantly by her side.”

  A smirk ran across Killian’s face. “There is a way you can be by her side, you know.”

  Devin’s glare shot to his friend. A look feared by many, it did nothing to the smirk still set firmly on Killian’s face.

  “Why would you go there? Again?” He shifted his look back to Aggie.

  “Aside from the obvious duty to produce an heir, one, your eyes have not left her since you came in. Even just now, you could not afford to look away from her to me for more than a second.”

  “She is better looking than you.”

  “Ego be-dammed, I will give you that.” Killian took a long swallow from his glass. “And two, you look like you want to crush Ferrington.”

  “She has spent far too long with the man. The gossips love fresh meat, and she is very near to being served up. Where the hell is her aunt? She should be cutting the conversation.”

  Killian gave a courtesy look around, smirk not moved.

  “What good is a chaperone that does not know how to chaperone?”

  “Seems her lack of a proper chaperone has been quite convenient for her,” Killian said, “and for you, thus far.”

  Devin’s eyes flickered to Killian, then back to Aggie. Granted, Aggie appeared to be just barely conce
aling a face of boredom over the conversation, but Killian was right. The sight of the two of them sent slivers of unnatural—yes, he would have to admit it—jealousy, down his spine.

  He didn’t really care to explore it, but he had begun to think of Aggie as his. Yes, he wanted her in his bed. But this was beyond a simple bedroom rendezvous. He was afraid he had actually begun to care about her well-being.

  Then there was the matter of her innocence. After the obvious embarrassment Aggie displayed the previous night when Devin was shirtless, he was beginning to question his earlier conclusion about her experience with men. Was it possible, as bold as she was, that she was not experienced in the bedroom?

  Devin’s cool gaze pierced into the back of Ferrington’s head. Jealousy was new to him, and he didn’t particularly enjoy it. But to interrupt Aggie’s conversation would only create an unnecessary stir throughout the party.

  At this point, he didn’t want to start raising questions about his association with Aggie.

  “You should think about putting the demons to rest, Devin.” Killian’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Move on. Live a real life. Who they were, is not who you are.”

  Devin’s gaze swung sharply, eyes cutting into Killian. He contemplated for a moment punching him, disregarding the fact they were in the middle of a party.

  “That is the advice that you, of all people, are going to give me?”

  “My situation is different.”

  “Demons are demons, Killian. Put down yours and I’ll put down mine.”

  Killian shrugged and stepped away to work the room. Devin shook his head. He knew his friend was no more willing to let go of the past than he was.

  With a sigh, Devin moved to the entrance of the silver drawing room, swirling the glass of Madeira in his hand, leaning against a pillar and chatting disinterestedly with several men for a stretch. He seethed the entire time.

  He tried to keep his eyes off her, but Ferrington continued to leer at the swell of her breasts rising out of her elegant yellow dress—too much skin for an unmarried woman. Killian was right. He did want to bust that leer off of Ferrington’s face. Enough.

  His eyes seared into Aggie’s Ferrington-directed gaze, willing her to look at him.

  As if on cue, she glanced in his direction, not in the least startled by his demanding stare. Devin gave a nod toward the French doors nearest Aggie, and was not disappointed when Aggie slightly inclined her head in response.

  ~~~

  She had felt his eyes follow her most of the night, and she was grateful when the duke finally nodded her to the line of French doors open to the evening air. She had been monopolized by Lord Ferrington much too long tonight. Why had her aunt not cut this short? She would have extracted herself much earlier, but Ferrington required little from her in way of conversation. As long as she nodded her head, he would talk, and she was free to search the faces in the crush.

  At the duke’s motion, she excused herself to get some fresh air on the terrace, politely declining his offer to join her, and quickly slipped through the crowd toward the beckoning breeze.

  Stepping onto the terrace, she walked past one of the open sets of white-paned French doors, trying to locate the duke. Inside, at the far end of the ballroom, she caught a glimpse of Devin’s head moving past dancers. A couple passed in front of her, leaving her stretch of the terrace empty. When she located the duke again, he had stopped to talk to another man.

  It wasn’t until Devin moved toward the French doors that Aggie caught the side profile of the man he had been talking to.

  She froze, her head slowly shaking in disbelief.

  The man turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  It couldn’t have been. Not after all her time here in London. Not after all the searching she had done. No. Their leader would not just happen to show up.

  Going to her toes, she searched the room again. Nothing. She ran along the travertine terrace to the next set of doors, searching.

  She didn’t see the duke step onto the terrace behind her. By the time she turned from the ballroom, he was leaning on the sculpted stone railing that ran along the drop of the terrace, his dark hair curled about his neck and crisp cravat, looking out into the night as though in a deep thought.

  Taking a deep breath to shake what she was sure her imagination just manifested, Aggie started toward Devin, passing by a door that led into the drawing room. She caught the slightest glimpse of the man again.

  She stopped and took a half-step into the drawing room, frantic eyes searching, but the man wasn’t there. It had to have been her imagination. The leader that instigated her father’s murder and tried to kill her was not here. He couldn’t be. It had to be a cruel illusion her exhausted mind played on her. It had to be.

  Her eyes gave one more fruitless search into the throng of people. No. It was impossible. Her father’s murderer could not have just walked right by her. Could not have just talked to the Devin.

  She saw nothing.

  She turned back toward the duke, only to find him assessing her with a questioning look on his face. It took her a moment to realize both of her hands were clenched into tight fists. The slim fan in her right hand had cracked in half.

  Unclenching her fists and taking a calming breath, Aggie casually stepped toward him, her light skirt swishing in the gentle night breeze. She looked behind her to make sure they were still alone.

  She stopped several steps away from him, making sure to keep a bit of distance. As proved last night, she seemed to become nothing but an idiot when they were in close proximity. Aggie turned, resting her palms on the railing, leaning forward to gaze at the dark sky.

  “Who was that?” Devin asked, his eyes not leaving her face.

  Aggie gave a slight cough. “Who was what?”

  “The person you were just searching for in the drawing room. The one who obviously just scared you to death.” His stare continued to bore into her features.

  “Scared me?”

  “You’re shaking.”

  Aggie whipped her arms across her ribcage, standing straight and tightening her body. She hadn’t realized.

  “Really, your grace, it was no one. I thought I saw someone I knew, but I didn’t. I was mistaken. It happens sometimes, what with the many people milling about and all,” Aggie said lightly, her gaze continuing to avert from his look. She shifted her eyes to stare at the perfectly symmetrical shrubbery below.

  “All right then, who was it you thought you saw?”

  Aggie turned toward him, catching his gaze, and realized her mistake. She doubted she could lie directly into his steely eyes. So she looked over his shoulder. “Really, Devin, it was, or would have been, no one of consequence.”

  She saw out of the corner of her eye the suspicion on his face grow. But he went silent. They stood for a few moments before he spoke again.

  “Walk with me?”

  “Yes.” She answered too quickly, with too much enthusiasm, but didn’t care. She was just grateful he dropped the matter.

  She glanced around once more to make sure no errant eyes saw them, and then walked with him down the set of stairs at the end of the terrace. They strolled in silence. Turning along the walk adjacent to the gardens, Aggie was thankful for the quiet moments to compose herself. Her insides were still a torrential maelstrom after who she just thought she saw.

  “Ferrington was certainly holding your attention.”

  Aggie blinked twice in surprise, not immediately understanding the changed subject, or his tone, for she had long since dismissed Lord Ferrington from her mind.

  “Yes, well, my usual polite exit lines were not working, and I was having a devil of a time coming up with anything new.” She looked up at him. “I am sure you can imagine my mind has been on other matters tonight.”

  Devin nodded, a satisfied look on his face. He pointed at a turn into the gardens. Even though she would never enter sequestered gardens like these with the opposite sex—their tall evergreen
hedges, thick arbors of trailing roses, and dark corners could so easily ruin a young lady—Aggie thought she saw the tiniest wince as Devin raised his injured arm. Sudden guilt outweighed her natural avoidance of this type of garden, and she let him steer her inward.

  “How is the cut? Healing?” Aggie asked, scolding herself at her rudeness to have not inquired about it right away.

  “A dull ache, nothing more.”

  Aggie nodded, relieved.

  “Your boy, Tommy, is he all right?”

  The guilt on Aggie’s face multiplied. “Yes, I saw him today. He was badly beaten, but he will be fine. I have a very good doctor looking after him. I never realized how young he was to have the responsibility I put on him. I was so very wrong about that. I just never thought…” Her eyes shifted downward as guilt tears brimmed on her lashes. Tommy’s face had been bloodied and mangled. Another person hurt by her actions. Her exhaustion did nothing to help her control her emotions.

  Devin stopped and Aggie took a few steps past him before stopping herself. The cool of the evening pooled between the thick hedges where they stood. They were deep in the gardens now. Aggie’s gloved hands went to her upper arms, rubbing them against the chill.

  “Aggie, do you not realize how young you are to have such responsibility on your shoulders?”

  Not turning back to him, she tilted her head upward, looking at the stars, and a memory rush of young naïveté hit her. She was now so very far from those days of innocence. “I am not so young. Fate did not give me the luxury of choice in the matter.”

  Right behind her, his sudden heat blanketed her bare shoulders before he spoke again.

  “But you have a choice now.” His voice was low in her ear.

  She spun to him, and immediately regretted it when she saw the look on his face. A predator sensing weakness, he moved even closer. She stepped backward, looking for space, only to move herself into a small arbor, offset from the path, with three sides of thick climbing roses. She hadn’t even noticed it was there.

  Not allowing a successful retreat, Devin slid in front of her, his wide shoulders cornering her in the alcove.