In Bed With the Devil

by Lorraine Heath

  Friendship? God knew he’d risked everything—including his life—for his friends. They’d risked no less than that for him. But Catherine—what did she gain? If he spent any more time in her company, no decent man would take her to wife.

  Tonight she’d done away with the purpose for their association. For some reason, she’d decided the bloke wasn’t worth killing. Luke supposed he should be grateful he’d not taken her at her word that first night and done the gent in.

  Still, he was bothered by her change of heart. She wasn’t a mindless chit, and she was certainly no one’s fool. If she thought someone needed killing, he most likely did. And there was still the matter of the man who was following her. He needed to have a word with Jim, but first he wanted to see Frannie.

  The coach came to a halt outside Dodger’s, and Luke alighted. He went through the front door. No tension reverberated here as it had at Avendale’s. But then this was his home, this was where he belonged.

  Jack approached him. “Luke—”

  Luke held up his hand. “Not now.”

  He was a man with a purpose. He opened the door to the backrooms and went down the hallway to the room where he knew he’d find Frannie. She was hard at work on her books. He rapped on the doorjamb. She looked up and grinned at him. As always, her smile warmed him as nothing else did.

  “Aren’t you dressed rather fancily?”

  “I attended a ball hosted by the Duchess of Avendale,” he said.

  “I didn’t think you were one to attend the aristocracy’s affairs.”

  “I thought it time I begin making the way clear for us.”

  She looked down at the ledgers. “So we’ll be attending balls?”

  “I think you’ll enjoy them. There’s gaiety and lovely gowns. Food and drink and people.”

  “Yes, lots of people I’ll not know.”

  “You’ll come to know them. And best of all, we shall dance.” He strolled into the room and held out his hand. “Dance with me now.”

  She snapped her head up. “Are you daft?”

  “Probably. But I want very desperately to dance with you.”

  “But there’s no music—”

  “I can hum.”

  Whatever was wrong with him? Why was this need to dance with her so strong?

  Laughing sweetly, she rose. “Very well.”

  She came around her desk. “As I recall, I’m supposed to stand on your toes.”

  He chuckled. It was the way the old gent had danced with her. He’d seen that they had lessons, so many lessons. Why did Frannie feel as though she needed more now? Surely she’d not forgotten everything they’d been taught.

  “The movements are the same but you keep your feet on the floor.” He placed one of her hands on his shoulder, took the other in his, settled his free hand on her waist.

  He began to hum the tune that had been playing while he’d danced with Catherine. And he moved Frannie in rhythm to his horrendous humming. The space was small. He couldn’t sweep her across the area, but it was enough.

  With Frannie in his arms, his body didn’t tighten, his mind didn’t bring forth carnal images. He told himself it was because when he looked down on her, all he saw was buttons and cloth. When he looked down on Catherine, an entirely different portrait emerged. He saw clearly the swell of her breasts, the gentle slope of her throat. He saw her smile. The joy reflected in her blue eyes.

  He stopped waltzing and very subtlety drew Frannie a fraction nearer. He cradled her chin as though it was made of the finest porcelain, as though it could so easily shatter. He watched as her eyes widened slightly, as her tongue darted out to dampen her lower lip. He felt a pleasant thrumming low in his belly.

  He lowered his head, her eyes slid closed, and he, very gently, brushed his lips over hers, before drawing back.

  “There, that wasn’t so bad was it?” he asked.

  Nor was it particularly satisfying, but that would come in time, as she became more familiar with the physical nature of men.

  She shook her head. “No, not at all.”

  “I adore you.”

  “I know.”

  He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. He should want to lean back in for another kiss. Lord knew he could never seem to get enough of the taste of Catherine. And yet what he and Frannie had shared seemed to be quite…adequate.

  Adequete. Not passionate, not fiery, not all-consuming.

  Civilized. Not barbaric, not beastly, not untamed.

  Proper. Not scandalous, not to be whispered about, not disgraceful.

  “What’s wrong?” Frannie asked.

  And he realized he was scowling, his brow furrowed so deeply he was going to give himself another one of his blinding headaches.

  Shaking his head, he released her and stepped back. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  But something was terribly wrong, because he was doubting his affection for Frannie, something he’d never done.

  “Was Catherine at the ball?” Frannie asked.

  “She was.”

  “Did you dance with her?”

  He turned away slightly. “I did.”

  Why did he feel guilty? It wasn’t as though he’d bedded her. It had been an innocent dance. But it hadn’t felt innocent.

  “What was she wearing?”

  “What all ladies wear. A ball gown.”

  “You’d make a horrendous society writer.” Frannie returned to her chair behind her desk. “I’ll wager she looked beautiful.”

  “I’ll not take you up on that wager as she always looks beautiful.”

  “Why has she not married, do you think?”

  “Because she is too opinionated, willful, argumentative. A man wants peace in his household, and with her, a man would never find peace.”

  “So you think marriage to me would be peaceful?”

  “I do.”

  “And that’s what you want? Peace?”

  “I want contentment.”

  “Do you find me boring?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Sometimes I wonder, sometimes I fear that I am. I sit here with all these numbers, and they seem so unexciting.”

  “Nothing about you is unexciting. I look forward to the time we spend together.” He sat in the chair across from her. “There just seems to be so little of it of late.”

  As though to punctuate his words a rap on the door sounded. Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Jim standing uncertainly in the doorway. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but Jack said he couldn’t get your attention earlier, and I’ve got something I thought you might be interested in.”

  “What is it?” Luke asked.

  “The man who’s been following Lady Catherine.”

  Luke’s heart slammed against his ribs and everything else suddenly seemed unimportant. “Where is he?”

  Jim jerked his head to the side. “Jack’s office.”

  Luke hurried out of the room. “How did you find him?”

  “Lady Catherine was running around like an insane woman this morning, taking care of the things for the ball she was hosting tonight.” Jim stepped into the room and pointed at a battered man with dark hair sitting in a chair, working the brim of his hat. “Mr. Evans here could barely keep up with her.”

  Jack’s burly footman had obviously been keeping guard. He nodded once and discreetly left the room, closing the door behind him.

  “He’s been ever so cooperative since he spent a few hours in gaol,” Jim explained.

  “Abuse of power is wot it was. Locking me up when I ain’t done nuffin’ wrong.”

  Luke sat on the edge of Jack’s desk, studying the man. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Claybourne,” the man fairly spit.

  “Do you know that I’ve killed a man?”

  “So have I. It’s not that hard to do.”

  “My point, dear fellow, is that I’m fond of Lady Catherine and I don’t like that blackguards such as yourself are following her.”

  “
I never ’urt ’er.”

  “That’s the only reason you’re still breathing. I want answers and if I don’t get them, I won’t be nearly as gentle as Scotland Yard. Have I made myself clear?”

  Evans swallowed, nodded. He was a bully, and bullies were easy to put in their place.

  “Why did you follow her?” Luke asked.

  “I was paid to.”

  “By whom?”

  “Fancy gent.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know his name. He hired a bunch of us.”

  “Hired a bunch of you to do what?”

  He lifted his shoulders in the way a man would to avoid a blow. “Follow people around.”

  “Come on, mate,” Jim said, his voice riffed with authority. “Tell his lordship everything without him having to ask all the questions.”

  “What people exactly were you following?” Luke asked.

  “The Lady Catherine, loike ’e said,”—he pointed to Jim—“a duchess, and you.”

  “Which duchess were you following?”

  “Dunno. I didn’t follow ’er. Me mate followed ’er. I know she was the gent’s wife; he thought she was up to no good.”

  “Why did he have you follow Lady Catherine?”

  “Dunno. Just wanted to know where she went, who she met, wot she did. So I told ’im. Mostly borin’ stuff, shoppin’ and the loike.”

  “There, you see?” Jim asked. “I’m not the only one who thought she was boring.”

  Luke jerked his head around and glared at Jim.

  Jim held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. But I felt a need to point it out.”

  Luke turned his attention back to Evans. “Are you one of the gents who attacked me one night?”

  The man’s cap almost disappeared in his large hands he was wringing it so hard. It was answer enough for Luke.

  “Were you supposed to kill me?”

  Evans gave a brusque nod.

  “And Lady Catherine?”

  Evans’s head came up, his eyes round. “No, I swear. Didn’t know she was even there ’til she popped outta the coach. I didn’t follow ’er at noight, ’er being a lady and all. I figured she was already abed.”

  “Did you tell your employer?”

  Evans shook his head quickly. “’E was mad enuf that we didn’t get the job done proper. Didn’t want to borrow no more trouble.”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “Nowhere in particular. ’E always found us.”

  “And you don’t know who he is?”

  “Sorry, mate.”

  “Yes, I’ll just bet you are.” Luke considered what he knew. Nothing made sense. Something was missing. Why would he follow a duchess? And which duchess? “The duchess you were following—did you ever see her with Lady Catherine?”

  “Almost every day. They were tighter than two peas in a pod.”

  “You didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

  The man shrugged.

  “If they were together, only one of you needed to follow them, but two of you were still getting paid, right?” Jim asked.

  Evans sighed and nodded as if he were a child caught pilfering a cookie. But Luke had greater concerns on his mind. He eased off the desk, walked to Jim, and said in a low voice, “Catherine spends a good deal of time with the Duchess of Avendale. Have you seen her in the company of any other duchess?”

  Jim shook his head. “If I had, I would have told you before now.”

  “Makes no sense. Why would Avendale—”

  The door opened and Jack strode in, extending a piece of paper. “This just came for you.”

  Luke took it. The seal was broken. “You looked at it.”

  “I needed to know if it was as urgent as the man who delivered it claimed.”

  Luke scowled at him, then unfolded the note. His stomach dropped to the floor.

  I need you at Avendale’s.

  Bring Dr. Graves.

  Quickly.

  —C

  Luke had left Jim to see to Evans and headed to Avendale’s, with a quick stop by Bill’s residence to alert him that his services were needed. Bill had come in his own conveyance so he wouldn’t be dependent upon Luke for transportation. Frannie had come along as well. Luke hadn’t known what to expect, but had feared the worst. He’d almost fallen to his knees with relief when he’d realized it was the duchess and not Catherine who needed Bill’s services.

  Now Luke sat on a bench beside Catherine outside the Duchess of Avendale’s bedchamber. He’d caught only a glimpse of her before Bill had ushered everyone except Frannie out of the room. If Luke hadn’t known who she was because of Catherine’s concern for her, he’d have never recognized her as the duchess.

  “The name you’d have eventually given to me, if you’d not changed your mind this evening—would it have belonged to Avendale?” he asked quietly.

  With tears welling in her eyes, Catherine nodded.

  “I assume this isn’t the first time he’s taken his fists to his wife.”

  Taken his fists to her, then fled. No doubt to Dodger’s.

  Catherine shook her head. “But it’s the worst. And it’s my fault. He was unhappy that you were in his residence. I should have known better. He’s such a controlling beast. Winnie has to account for every minute of every day. And your name wasn’t on the guest list, but I wanted to dance with you on a ballroom floor. How stupid and selfish. I should have lied and told you he’d taken my virtue and then this matter would be done.”

  “It’s not an easy thing to live with a lie, Catherine.” He knew that truth well enough.

  “Do you think it is an easy thing to know you are responsible for your friend’s death?”

  “She’s not dead yet. Don’t give up on her so easily. Bill is very good at what he does.”

  “Two of Avendale’s wives have died. I shall never forgive myself if Winnie does as well. Because I was a coward and waited. As much as I wanted the deed done, I began to worry about how I would feel afterward, how I’d live with myself. And now look what’s happened to her.”

  “Catherine, it’s not your fault.”

  “It is. As I explained.”

  “What did you do, sweetheart? You sent out an invitation to a person he’d not anticipated. I killed a man and no one took a fist to me.” He put his arm around her, drew her near, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “His punishment doesn’t fit your crime.”

  Catherine took such comfort from Claybourne’s nearness. From the moment that Winnie’s lady’s maid had shown up at Catherine’s residence weeping, Catherine had feared the worst, and she’d not hesitated to send for Claybourne, for herself more so than Winnie. She knew she could draw from his strength. Knew she would find comfort in his presence.

  “How many stab wounds would it take to kill a person?” she asked.

  “One if you do it right. But using a knife makes it very personal, Catherine.”

  “A pistol would be better then.”

  “Only if you’re a very good marksman.”

  She moved out from beneath his arm and shored up her courage. “Can you teach me to be a good marksman?”

  “I could. But I see no need. I’ll take care of this matter.”

  He took her hand, rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, then circled it over the back of her hand. It felt so lovely, so tender, so reassuring.

  “I thought you were a beast,” she said quietly.

  “Closer to the devil, don’t you think?”

  Ah, yes, the Devil Earl. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d thought of him in those terms. “Why did you kill the man you did?”

  “Because he hurt Frannie.”

  Catherine tried to remember when everything had taken place.

  “She would have been a child at the time.”

  “Indeed, she was, and in spite of the life she’d led, up until that moment, she was a very sweet and innocent child.”

  “Have you killed anyone else?”

  H
e slowly shook his head.

  “But you’ll kill Avendale?”

  He gave one brusque nod.

  “Will you be able to live with it?”

  With his thumb, he wiped the tears from her cheek. “That’s for me to worry about.”

  “You said I was asking you to give up the last of your soul.”

  “There’s only a small bit left. Giving it up will be no hardship.”

  But she feared it would be a great hardship, that it would change him irrevocably into a man she could no longer love. Oh, dear Lord, when had she fallen in love with him? Had there been a precise moment or had it been simply an accumulation of many?

  “It was easier for me to ask you do this before I knew you,” she said.

  “And it’s easier for me to do now because I know you better.”

  The bedchamber door opened. A somber Dr. Graves and Frannie stepped out. Catherine came to her feet, expecting the worst.

  “She’s going to recover, but she’s going to require a lot of care,” Dr. Graves said. “She’s been terribly abused in very personal ways.”

  Catherine nodded. Winnie had been conscious for a while, in pain, suffering, weeping over the atrocities her husband had made her endure: raping her, beating her, striving to break her spirit. She feared he’d succeeded with the last. “I can see after her.”

  Claybourne urged everyone closer. “Can she travel?”

  Dr. Graves widened his eyes. “Not far, not far at all.”

  “She doesn’t have to go far.” Claybourne sighed. “Avendale has been having Catherine followed. He’s also responsible for the attack on us that night.”

  “What?” Catherine asked. “How do you know all this?”

  “Jim caught one of the ruffians he hired to follow you. We were discussing the matter with him when I received your missive. Avendale must be dealt with but not here, not in London, where he may have resources of which I’m not aware. My plan is this. We will lead people to believe that we are taking the duchess to my country estate. You should come with us, Catherine. Avendale will come to you first, searching for his wife.”

  “But my father—”

  “He’ll be watched. No harm will come to him.”

  She believed him, absolutely without question.

  “We’ll do a switch,” he continued, “take the ladies to your residence, Bill, where you and Lady Catherine can look after the duchess. I shall travel on to Heatherwood. Avendale is sure to follow me there if we leave enough clues. At which time, I shall put the matter to rights.”