Between the Devil and Desire

by Lorraine Heath

  “Catherine doesn’t fancy me. She won’t help,” Jack said.

  “Catherine has a generous heart. She’ll always help someone in need.” Luke leaned forward. “What’s going on, Jack? From the moment you left at nineteen, you’ve always avoided coming to my residence unless absolutely necessary—as though you feared you’d catch the pox—and yet here you are, just as I was retiring for the evening.”

  Reaching for the decanter on the table between them, Jack poured more whiskey into his glass. He downed the contents in one long swallow, relishing the burning sensation along his throat that eventually swirled through his blood. The problem with erecting walls was that climbing over them when he needed help was so difficult. “Lovingdon left all his non-entailed properties and assets to me.”

  Luke stared at him as though he’d stood and removed his clothing.

  “My reaction was quite similar,” Jack said laconically. If the widow hadn’t turned to stone as well at the news, he might have thought he’d misunderstood the conditions of the will.

  “Why would he do that?”

  Jack shook his head. “That seems to be the question of the evening, and I haven’t the foggiest idea as to the answer.”

  “Did you even know the man?”

  “Barely. I met him once in the garden here. I think he was visiting your grandfather. He came into the club a time or two.”

  “Did he owe you a gambling debt?”

  Jack poured more whiskey, took another long swallow. “As far as I know, he never gambled, drank, or whored. He simply observed. Some people are like that: voyeurs of sin. I never thought anything of it.”

  Luke held up his hands. “Just like that, he left you everything?”

  “Well, he did include one minor stipulation, hardly worth mentioning. I’m to serve as guardian of his five-year-old son.”

  Luke’s eyes widened as he dropped back in the chair. “Why in God’s name would he entrust the care of his son to you?”

  “I appreciate the faith. Sorry to have delayed your retiring for the evening.” Jack came to his feet. His and Luke’s friendship had been strained of late. Where once they’d trusted each other with their very lives, now distance brought on by regret and secrets revealed separated them. He shouldn’t have bothered to come, but the streets had made them brothers. As loath as Jack was to admit he needed anyone, he was suddenly desperate to have someone believe in him.

  “No, you misunderstood. I have every confidence you would serve as a fine guardian. Lord knows, when we were boys, you saved my arse often enough. But why would Lovingdon leave the care of his son to a man he doesn’t know other than in passing?”

  Jack slowly shook his head. “I’m as baffled as you are.”

  “How did his widow take the news?”

  He rubbed his cheek, remembering the sting of her slap. “Not well, not well at all, I’m afraid.” He heard a light footfall and turned toward the door.

  Catherine stood inside the doorway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t realize you had company. I was simply wondering what was keeping you.”

  From my bed were the words Jack thought were left unspoken. Catherine Langdon, Countess of Claybourne, was a beautiful woman. Her hair, the color of moonbeams, had already been let down for the night. For some reason, it made him wonder what the widow’s hair looked like when it was loosened, what it might feel like to comb his fingers through it.

  “Please join us,” Luke said now. “Jack has some questions he’d like to ask you.”

  No, I don’t, Jack thought irritatingly. You have some questions you want me to ask her.

  But he stayed as he was because to leave would give the impression he was unsettled by her, and while that assessment might be true, he had no desire for her to realize it. She had too much influence over Luke as it was. No reason to give her leave to think she could control another man.

  Jack watched as she floated gracefully into the room and sat in the chair Luke had vacated. Luke perched himself on its arm, his fingers immediately going to Catherine’s tresses as though he couldn’t be near her without touching her. It had been a strange thing to watch his friend fall under her spell. Luke would do anything for her—kill if need be. Jack couldn’t imagine loving a woman that much, couldn’t imagine loving a woman at all. Love made a person vulnerable, and he had no intention of ever being placed in a position such as that again.

  “Jack has encountered an unusual situation here,” Luke began. “It seems Lovingdon has bequeathed to him all his non-entailed properties, in exchange for which Jack is to serve as guardian of his son.”

  To her credit, the countess did little more than look up at her husband, a frown between her delicate arched brows, before turning her attention to Jack. “How might I help?”

  Taking his seat again at her unexpected offer, Jack cleared his throat, hardly knowing where to begin. In dealing with the young widow, the more he knew about her, the more advantage he would have during any future encounters. His interest was as simple as that. Nothing more. “I was wondering what you could tell me about his wife.”

  “Olivia?”

  “Has he another?”

  “No, of course not. I don’t know her well. Her father was the Duke of Avendale. I believe she was nineteen when she married Lovingdon. To be blunt, I think we were all a bit surprised that she’d marry someone considerably older. I don’t believe she was wanting for suitors. I suspect the marriage had more to do with her father’s wishes than hers.” She affectionately patted her husband’s thigh. “We’re not all fortunate to love the one we marry.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Are you going to serve as the lad’s guardian?”

  “Of course.”

  “He can offer you nothing you can possibly need,” Luke said.

  “Need has nothing to do with my decision. As you’re well aware, I never turn my back on the opportunity to be wealthier than I am. Besides, now we’ll be neighbors. I’ve inherited his London residence.”

  “But serving as guardian is a great deal of responsibility, Mr. Dodger,” Catherine said.

  “I don’t think it’ll be as bad as all that. Besides, I’m only obligated until the widow marries and then the duty will fall to her new husband.”

  “I know the duchess well enough to recognize she places duty above all else and adheres to the strictures of society religiously. She’ll honor her husband for the full two-year mourning period.”

  “Then in two years and one day, I’ll have a bloke waiting for her on bended knee.”

  “You’re going to arrange a marriage for her?” Catherine looked positively aghast by the notion.

  Jack shrugged, knowing no matter what he did, Catherine would find fault with his plans. “I don’t see any reason not to. I’m not in mourning.”

  Besides, how difficult could it be to find the duchess a new husband? And money could purchase a good many things, including forgiveness for violating the rules of etiquette. Society might require that a widow mourn for two years, but Jack didn’t see the need for her to mourn for more than a couple of weeks, if that.

  A quiet ceremony and off to the country the happy little family could go. And Jack would have his lovely new residence all to himself.

  “Wake up, darling,” Olivia whispered softly.

  Henry blinked his eyes open. He’d taken his fair complexion, his blond hair from his father, but his eyes favored hers. He was such a curious lad, always studying the world around him, trying to discern how things worked. Lovingdon had spared his son little time, but then few fathers did. It was the way of things for fathers to leave their sons’ upbringing to others. Perhaps Lovingdon’s lack of involvement had convinced him that little thought needed to be given to the selection of a guardian—but even then, Olivia couldn’t justify his choice.

  Pressing a kiss to Henry’s head, she inhaled the sweet, milky fragrance of the child. She could not possibly allow a criminal to raise him. The best way to avoid that was to get him as f
ar away from Jack Dodger as possible.

  “I need you to get up and get dressed. We’re going to the family estate in the country,” Olivia told him.

  The country estate was part of the entailment. It belonged to Henry and would put him beyond the reach of his appointed guardian. Once she was away from this madness, Olivia would be able to think more clearly and find a way to ensure Mr. Dodger had no influence over Henry. He seemed to be a man fond of coins. Perhaps she could turn the funds from her trust over to him. She would do whatever was necessary—do without, make sacrifices—to ensure Henry had the proper guidance. Nothing was more important to her than her son.

  She turned to his nanny. “Helen, please pack a few things for Henry and yourself. I’m having a coach brought ’round to the front. We dare not tarry.”

  She could hardly believe the desperate measures to which Lovingdon’s death had brought her. He’d been only fifty-one. When she’d married him six years ago, he’d seemed so frightfully mature, but in death he’d suddenly seemed so terribly young, taken before his time. She’d hardly had a spare moment to think about him, about what life would be like without him. And if she had, she’d have certainly never envisioned it taking the turn it had tonight. Still, she had responsibilities and she would see to them as best she could. Duty did not have the luxury of taking time to mourn.

  Once everything was ready and Henry was properly attired, Olivia took his hand and led him down the stairs. Her lady’s maid was waiting for her in the foyer.

  “The footmen have loaded our things into the boot of the coach,” Maggie told Olivia.

  They’d packed very little because a hasty retreat was required in order to gain an effective escape. Escape. Not a word she’d ever thought to associate with her life, but there she was, fleeing into the night as though she were a thief. If she weren’t so tired, perhaps she could think of another strategy, but at that moment she wanted only to be away from the madness. “Good. Let’s be off.”

  With a footman carrying a lantern and leading the way, and another carrying her son, Olivia dashed out into the night. Down the grand steps that led up to the home she’d fallen in love with. Scurrying off into the darkness of night left a crushing ache in her chest. If she were a weaker woman, she thought she’d succumb to tears, but they wouldn’t change her circumstance. She had to remain strong for Henry. She had to protect him at all costs. She knew Jack Dodger’s sort. He wanted everything easily, without effort. Once they were gone, he’d not bother to come after them. He would have the residence and its contents, which she was convinced was all he truly wanted.

  She hurried across the cobblestone drive, aware of the thick fog absorbing and muting the echo of her footsteps. This night seemed perfectly designed for stealing away.

  A liveried footman opened the door to the waiting coach and assisted her inside. As she settled onto the plush bench, she became aware of a familiar scent—

  “Going somewhere, Duchess?”

  She released a blood-curdling scream at the unexpected smoky voice reverberating from the shadowy corner of the coach. She might have continued to scream if not for the infuriatingly dark chuckle that quickly followed. She now knew the echo of Satan’s laughter, and it was not a sound that invited others to join in the merriment.

  “Your Grace?” one of the footmen questioned.

  “She’s fine,” Jack Dodger said as he grabbed the lantern from the footman and hung it from an inside hook, the lantern’s golden glow illuminating the confines of the coach, illuminating him. He somehow managed to look amused and irritated at the same time. And so very, very dangerous.

  Just inside the doorway, still held by the other footman, Henry had yelled when she’d screamed and now he was crying forcefully. Reaching out, she took him and pressed her trembling child to her quaking bosom. “Shh. Henry, it’s all right. Mummy just had a fright, that’s all. But this man will not harm you, darling. I promise you that.”

  As though reassured by her words, Henry stopped his crying and began to noisily suck his thumb. It was a habit of which Olivia wasn’t particularly fond, but neither she nor his nanny had encountered any success in breaking it. At that particular moment, it didn’t seem worth the bother of worrying over. She had much larger concerns to address.

  If she were prone to using obscenities, Olivia thought, now would be a good time to spew a few. Jack Dodger appeared larger than before, and more ominous. She liked him even less and decided she’d had quite enough of him for the evening.

  “What are you doing here?” Olivia demanded, in her most officious voice, the one she used when she caught servants slacking at their duties.

  “The question, Duchess, is what are you doing? According to this book”—he tapped the ledger he held up as though its contents were gospel—“this coach is my property. Are you seeking to steal it from me?”

  “How can it be your property? It bears the ducal crest.”

  “I suppose you make a valid point. I should have the crest removed posthaste as it does create confusion.”

  “It was the duke’s coach.”

  “But unfortunately for you, it was purchased with non-entailed funds.”

  “You read that in the dark?”

  “No, I read it in the library. I have an astonishingly good memory. I have but to read something once and it is as though a picture is drawn in my mind. But I doubt you truly have any real interest in my talent, so let us return to my original question. Are you seeking to steal from me? Do I need to send ’round for a constable?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I was just taking Henry to the countryside.”

  “In the dead of night?” Mr. Dodger asked.

  “It’s a cooler time to travel, and Henry is prone to sleeping when we travel at night. As I don’t then have to keep him entertained, it makes for a much more pleasant journey for all involved, and I’m not sure why I’m explaining myself to you.”

  “I’ve found people usually go to the bother of explaining when they realize they’re at fault.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong.” But her words sounded defensive and weak even to her own ears.

  “Here’s the problem as I see it. I’m Henry’s guardian. If he’s in the country then I cannot effectively guard him.”

  She could have sworn she heard humor laced through his voice. Did he think this was all some grand joke, that tonight’s revelations had been designed for his amusement? She bit back harsh words that would gain her nothing except his anger. “As guardian, you don’t have to actually guard him. You simply oversee his welfare, and you can do that by entrusting him to my care and letting me take him to the country.”

  “I’m not certain that’s in his best interest.”

  “How can it not be?”

  “You’re raising a pansy. He screamed louder than you did.”

  “I resent that implication. You frightened us, lurking about in the shadows where you weren’t expected—like some miscreant. Why weren’t you standing outside the coach, as any decent person would? I think you deliberately sought to unsettle me.”

  “I think you’re well aware that I’m hardly decent.” He had the audacity to smile, all the while tapping that blasted ledger.

  “You find this situation amusing?” she snapped.

  “I find it vastly challenging.”

  Challenging was an understatement. “You and I can compromise. Take everything. Say you are his guardian. Let Henry and I leave.”

  “Unfortunately for you, Duchess, I’m a man of my word. I promised to see to the care and upbringing of the child, and so I shall. And I will do it here in London as that is where my business interests lie. Now, you are correct. Compromises need to be made and matters between us settled. I suggest we retire to the residence, where we may discuss them in more comfort.”

  “It’s almost ten o’clock, long past a decent hour for visiting. Surely you’re not implying that you intend to stay in the residence.”

  “It’s my residence. The ch
ild is my ward. So, yes, I will be moving in.”

  He spoke so casually about something that was completely inappropriate. She had little doubt that he’d grown up accustomed to sleeping amongst strangers. “This is ludicrous. You and I are not related. We can’t live in the same residence.”

  “You’re a widow, not a maiden. No chaperone is mandatory. Although I assume you have female servants who see to your numerous needs. Let them watch over you if you fear you’ll be tempted to come to my bed.”

  Olivia gasped with indignation. “You pompous beast! I would never come to your bed.”

  “And as I have no interest in coming to yours, I fail to see the problem. Besides, most of my business ventures require my attention at night, so more often than not I’ll be at my club. Nothing untoward will happen.”

  Olivia refused to acknowledge the sting of rejection she’d felt when he admitted he had no interest in her. She didn’t want to appeal to him. Still, it was painful to realize a man who no doubt was in the habit of chasing many a skirt had no plans to chase hers. It had wounded her terribly when Lovingdon had never returned to her bed once she was with child. Perhaps men found her unappealing. She supposed she should take comfort in knowing she was safe from Jack Dodger. Instead she felt an overwhelming need to weep.

  “I beg of you, for the love of God, let us go.”

  He studied her thoughtfully, and she snatched onto her last remnant of hope that this ordeal would end in her favor. If he possessed only a shred of decency, it could be enough—

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “I grow weary of repeating myself. Leaving is not in the boy’s best interest and I am his guardian. Now, you may either return to the residence like a proper lady—by walking—or over my shoulder. The choice is yours. But the time is now.”

  “Toss me over your shoulder? As though I was a common doxy? You wouldn’t dare.”