Robyn DeHart - [Dangerous Liaisons 01]

by The Secrets of Mia Danvers

  ***

  Alex heard the shot just as he stepped out of the carriage. At least what he thought was a gunshot. It could very well have been the thunder growling off in the distance, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d heard gunshots enough to be relatively certain that that’s what he’d heard. So he ran, up the stairs and into the front of Edward’s house. He made it into the foyer to see Mia bolt out of a room to the left and head toward the staircase. From her hand dangled the pistol he’d given her.

  “Mia, what happened?” he asked, racing to reach her. He wrapped his arms around her.

  “Alex! He found me. He’s in that parlor. I shot him.”

  “The killer?” By now Edward and Rachel and two servants had arrived to investigate the commotion. He didn’t bother speaking to them; once Mia nodded, Alex tore into the room she’d just left.

  The door was left open, but the room was dark, the dim light from the hallway not providing enough illumination to see anything. The housekeeper following him carried a large fireplace poker.

  “Where are the bloody lights?” he roared.

  Edward came in behind him and quickly lit the wall sconces and light poured over the room. There was no one there.

  “Look there,” the housekeeper said, pointing to the window.

  It was ajar and now rain sprinkled into the room dampening the wooden floor. Alex looked out the window to the grounds. It was a good leap to the ground below, easily enough distance to break someone’s leg should they land wrong. And he was injured if the blood pool and drops along the floor were any gauge.

  Perhaps the bastard would crawl off into the woods and die. There was certainly enough blood on the floor to indicate she’d hit him in a good spot. He’d have felt immensely proud of her if he wasn’t so damned relieved that she was safe. Damnation, he was a fool to let her go. For so many reasons.

  “I’ll go look for him,” Edward said.

  “No you will not!” Rachel said, her voice shrill.

  “Very well, I’ll send some men out to look. A group of men, heavily armed men,” he added.

  “They won’t find anything in this weather,” Rachel answered, always the voice of reason. “They’ll never see anything.” As if to confirm her words, the rain thickened, falling in fat heavy drops that slammed against the windows in a random cadence. “You can send people out tomorrow.”

  Edward nodded. “But we do need to secure the house right now.” He sent the butler to rouse the two footmen he’d hired. “I want this entire house searched and every door and window locked securely. I don’t know how that bastard got in, but I don’t want a repeat.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the servant said and quickly left the room.

  “Alex?” Mia asked from the doorway.

  “He’s gone, love. Escaped,” he said. “You hit him, though, shot him. There’s blood, a lot of blood. Mia, you injured him. I don’t think he’ll last long or get very far.” He gathered her into his arms. He closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of her once again in his embrace. He wanted to remember the precise scent of her hair, the way her body felt pressed against his, the way she clung tightly to him. “I’m sorry I let you go, let you be put in danger like this.”

  “I chose to go,” she said. “I needed to. I thought Juliet had called off your engagement because of us, I thought she’d found out somehow. But Edward told me that she was attacked. Did you see her?”

  “I did.”

  “So you resolved everything?” she asked, still clinging to him.

  “We did. She doesn’t want to marry me. Never did. Turns out we were both merely following the wishes of our parents,” he said.

  “So you are not going to marry her?”

  “No, I am not.” He kissed the top of her head several times, wondering if he’d ever get his fill of her. “I heard you, you know,” he said.

  “Heard what?”

  “What you said last night before you left. What you whispered when you thought I was sleeping.”

  “That I love you?” she asked. She tilted her head up to him then. “I do, you know, love you, so very much.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I’m not sorry you heard me. I wanted you to know. I was afraid to tell you, but still I wanted you to know,” she said.

  He kissed her cheek, then the other one, then placed a simple kiss on her lips. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me? God, I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  “Forgive you for what?”

  “For not realizing everything sooner.”

  “Alex, what are you talking about?” she asked.

  “I love you, Mia. I cannot believe I simply allowed you to walk out of my life. That day I asked you to marry me, I should have insisted you say yes regardless of how terrible my proposal,” he said. “I am a fool. I’m so very sorry I chose my damned family’s wishes over what I truly wanted. I can assure you, it won’t happen again.”

  “Well, you are a fool,” she said with a little laugh.

  “But I do love you. And I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Mia,” he said.

  Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. “What about your mother? What about your reputation? I’m not exactly the most respectable duchess.”

  “I don’t give a damn about my reputation and I dare anyone to question my choice in my duchess. You’ll be perfect. You are perfect,” he said. “In fact, we don’t even have to get married if you don’t wish to. But stay with me. Promise you’ll never leave my side again.”

  “Oh, Alex, I would love to be your wife. I love you.”

  “I shall never tire of hearing that,” he said. And then he kissed her the way he intended to kiss her every day for the rest of their lives.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  Alex stepped into his townhome and Hodges greeted him.

  “Her Grace is in the dining room,” the butler said.

  “Very good, Hodges.” Alex gave the man his coat and then went in search of his wife. He had just returned from a visit with Simon and he had much to tell Mia. When he got to the dining room he stood quietly in the doorway watching.

  She sat at the head of the table with Mrs. Wickens, the housekeeper, as well as the cook and her ladies’ maid. All three of the servants were listening to Mia’s every word.

  “We need to make certain we have enough pheasants for that meal, it is His Grace’s favorite,” she said.

  The cook nodded and made a note in her notebook.

  “Now, then, I should like to order new draperies for the front parlor, the current ones are beginning to wear thin around the edges and smell musty,” Mia said.

  Alex had been a fool to ever doubt her ability. Mia was far more able than most people who had use of all of their senses.

  Mrs. Wickens smiled. “What color, Your Grace?”

  “I always liked yellow,” Mia said.

  “Very good, Your Grace,” Mrs. Wickens said.

  Mia waved her hand. “Alex, love, there is no reason to loiter in the doorway, I know you’re there.”

  The three servants jumped to their feet, obviously none of them had noticed his approach.

  He shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me, my love,” he said. He came over to her and bent to place a kiss on her cheek. He eyed the staff. “You can finish with your household management later,” he said.

  “We were mostly finished. Thank you,” she told the women and the three of them scurried out.

  “Now, then,” he said. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her passionately, her arms came around his neck and she sighed contentedly.

  “Where have you been this morning?” she asked.

  “Meeting with Simon,” he said.

  “And?”

  “He thinks they’re getting very close to catching him,” Alex said.

  She leaned against him, placing her cheek against his chest. “I feel safe with you here. I know he won’t get to me. You’ve given me everything, Alex, everything
I ever wanted, even the dreams I thought had been taken from me.”

  “And you, my dear, are my perfect duchess.”

  ***

  He was a patient man, but the waiting was becoming tedious. It wouldn’t be long now. And the whole world would know that he’d never be caught, he’d never go away, the Ripper was here to stay.

  Keep reading for a special preview of the next book in the Dangerous Liaisons series by Robyn DeHart

  THE TEMPTATIONS OF ANNA JACOBS

  Available November 2013 from InterMix

  London, 1889

  Andrew Foster sat in what he humorlessly referred to as “the hole” and waited. It was all he could do. Sit, listen and wait. The other inmates fought and wailed and hurled curses at one another. It was a wretched existence.

  The metal gates down the hall from his cell opened and then closed with a heavy slam, and he heard voices. It was dark in his pit, torches spit and sparked on the walls outside his bars, but offered no real solace from the black surrounding him. Footsteps sounded and then his own gate rattled.

  “Drew.”

  It was Simon Jacobs, the lead investigator on the murder case that had landed Drew in this small piece of hell. Still Drew was thankful for the visit. So far the man came once a day, to check in with him and give him reports from the goings on in London. Drew knew it was to prevent him from succumbing to the darkness. Simon didn’t believe Drew guilty. He’d merely been doing his job. Drew wasn’t a fool though. This wouldn’t last forever. Eventually he’d stop visiting. Everyone would and then he would rot in here alone with the rest of London’s criminals.

  He inhaled sharply and was pleased to smell something other than the filth that surrounded him. “Simon,” Drew said. “Smells as if it might rain.”

  “Indeed, dark clouds have been rolling in and collecting all day.” There was a pause and Simon got close to the bars. “I need to speak with you. It is of great importance.”

  Drew stepped forward. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug.

  Simon looked over his shoulder, then gripped two of the bars. “I know you didn’t do this. I know you’re not the killer we seek. And we’ve had a situation that will probably prove that to everyone else very soon.”

  Drew’s heart thundered in response. Did he dare hope that he would be released from this prison? “What happened?” Drew asked.

  “Another attack, another victim, but this time she survived. That is what will keep you in here a little longer.” Simon shook his head. “There are those that believe this wasn’t the same man. But I know it was.”

  Drew nodded. “So I might get out. Someday.” Hope crumbled off his shoulders and fell to the dirt floor beneath his bare feet.

  “You will get out. And when you do, I will need your help.” Simon paused and again looked behind him. “I know you don’t owe me anything, I’m the one who brought you here. But I think you’re in a unique position to assist in this investigation.”

  Drew narrowed in on Simon’s features. The man was sincere and earnest. Drew could plainly see that. “What are you asking, Simon?”

  “How would you like to do some work for me? Secret work,” Simon said. “Most of Scotland Yard believes you guilty of brutally murdering a woman. I, on the other hand, believe that is exactly what the Ripper intended.”

  “You believe he framed me?” Drew asked. He had suspected the same thing. The evidence had been too convenient and he’d been too bloody drunk to offer an alternative explanation.

  Simon nodded. “He enjoys toying with people. He especially enjoys toying with the police. What better way than to send us off investigating the wrong man. But I believe he picked you, because you were someone he had the opportunity to observe closely. Perhaps he is even someone you know. At the very least someone who frequents the same gaming hells, pubs and clubs. You could be quite useful in this investigation.”

  “So you essentially want me to become a spy for you? For the Yard?” Drew asked. It was an appealing offer. Frankly Drew was feeling ready to unmask the real killer and get the hell out of this place.

  “I do. I know this is a lot to consider so I shall give you time. I merely wanted to speak with you first, before you were released.”

  Drew shook his head. “I don’t need any time,” he said. There was nothing to consider. If he got out of here, he was going after the bastard that had put him here, and might as well have official resources and make some coin while he was at it. Not to mention he wanted some revenge.

  Saving his reputation was a moot point now, but damnation if he wasn’t angry as hell that the most notorious killer in London’s history had pinned his crimes on Drew. It probably should frighten him that he’d obviously been that close to the murderer, but after this hole, Drew felt no more fear. He was ready to meet the Ripper in a darkened alleyway, ready to make the hunter the hunted.

  “I should hope you would reconsider—”

  “I’ll do it,” Drew said, interrupting Simon.

  “Oh. Excellent.” Simon tapped a finger on the bars. “In the meantime I shall work on getting you released.

  “You do that. The food in here is terrible.”

  ***

  It had taken Anna a moment to make the connection, but that was most certainly him. Andrew Foster standing in the theatre lobby as if he hadn’t recently been released from prison on murder charges. As if he hadn’t been the main reason why her brother had been sent to Scotland.

  “Pardon me, Mother, I have someone I need to speak with,” she said and walked toward him. She met his gaze and her breath caught. She swallowed hard. She hadn’t realized how handsome he was. But that meant nothing. He was a man. A rude and terrible man who had let down her brother and he deserved to be called on precisely that.

  “Mr. Foster,” she said tartly when she reached him. She angled her head to look up at him. He wasn’t overly tall as his brother the duke was, but Andrew was still taller than her—not that that was saying much.

  “I see you know me, madam, but unfortunately I don’t believe we’ve met.” Then he chuckled though it seemed without amusement. “Or if we have, I don’t seem to recall.”

  “Anna Jacobs. I believe you know my brother,” she said.

  He nodded. “Simon, yes. How is he doing on his holiday in Scotland?”

  Her brows rose. “Holiday! Is that what you believe he’s doing?” She dared to poke a finger in his chest. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Foster, that he was sent there on a so-called training exercise but in truth it is merely Scotland Yard punishing him for not catching the Ripper.”

  The man had the audacity to nod gravely. “I see. Well, that is unfortunate since he seems to be the only one following the right paths.”

  “Unfortunate is the least of it. My brother is brilliant and I know he asked you to work for him.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “I cannot believe you told him no. It is simply unconscionable that you would be in such a unique position to assist in the investigation and you would stand there and do nothing. And then to show your face here as if theatre is the entertainment you need.”

  “I suggest you lower your voice, Miss Jacobs, you are beginning to turn heads.”

  “I care not a whit who hears. You should be ashamed of yourself,” she said.

  Her mother appeared at her side and grabbed her elbow. “Annabelle, what are you doing to this poor gentleman? My apologies, sir, my daughter does not know when to hold her tongue.”

  He nodded. “No harm done,” he said, then he turned and walked away.

  “Have you lost your senses?” her mother hissed. “You cannot walk up to men in public and berate them. You looked very much ready to be sent to Bedlam.”

  “That was Andrew Foster,” she said.

  “The murderer?” her mother asked. She brought a hand to her throat. “Good heavens, Annabelle, we should leave and return home immediately.”

  “Honestly, Mother, he’s harmless. An arrogant prig, but harmless. Let us go
and enjoy the show.”

  Award-winning author Robyn DeHart is a favorite among readers and reviewers for her romantic novels such as A Little Bit Wicked, Treasure Me, Desire Me, and Seduce Me. She is a four-time Romantic Times Bookclub Reviewers’ Choice Nominee, a three-time RomCon Reader’s Crown nominee and most recently is a finalist in the Booksellers’ Best. She’s been a member of RWA for sixteen years and is a popular writing instructor. Robyn lives in Texas with her adoring husband, two precocious little girls and two ridiculously spoiled cats.