You Only Love Twice (London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy Book 3)

by Bec McMaster

  Adele tipped her chin up, a brow arching. "Do I meet your approval, Your Grace?"

  "It needs a little something," he said.

  Adele turned back around, eyeing herself critically in the mirror. "If my mother had her way, it would be a tiara."

  "Too much," he told her, eyeing the spread of jewelry on the dresser.

  "That's what I told her." Adele toyed with a clutch of pearls, and then traced her fingers over a set of diamonds beside it. "But I do need something to cover the scars."

  Faint slash marks marred her neck, some old, some new. Malloryn said nothing as he stepped behind her. Others whispered the Duke of Malloryn was getting used goods—never within his hearing, of course—but Adele had never been an innocent, and he'd known that.

  "The pearls are too plain for a future duchess," he said, snagging the glittery twist of diamonds and reaching around her to hold them in front of her throat.

  Adele froze. Her pulse leapt in her neck and her hand hovered there. "They were my grandmother's."

  The diamonds looked too harsh. Malloryn rested them lightly against her skin. Standing behind her like this, he could see the heady thump of her pulse in the side of her neck. Silence stretched between them. When he met Adele's eyes in the mirror, her pupils were dilated, and she looked almost hungry herself.

  She knew what had caught his interest.

  She wanted it.

  Malloryn discarded the diamonds. "Wear the pearls then. I don't think it matters."

  With that, he turned his back to her, examining the well-made bed and the pretty upholstered chair in the corner, behind a small packed trunk. All her things, packed in a single trunk? He'd expected dozens.

  "So, what brings you to my boudoir?" Adele asked, fiddling with the pearls. "I thought it would be the last place you'd ever set foot in, Your Grace... considering your claims this marriage will yield a cold marriage bed."

  "It will." He turned around. "I came to warn you actually. I've received word this wedding may not go entirely without hitch."

  "Oh? The bride's going to get cold feet, is she?"

  "One can hope."

  Their eyes met again, and this time Adele almost smiled. She'd settled on the pearls after all. They didn't suit the dress, but he could see she was satisfied with her choice. My grandmother's.... For a moment he was almost curious. It was clear her mother had washed her hands of her daughter, and from what he'd heard earlier, there was no love lost between them, but there'd been something almost wistful in her words when she'd said her grandmother's name.

  Don't. Don't think of her as anything other than what she is. Easier that way for both of them.

  "So what does that mean?" Adele asked politely. "Not without a hitch?"

  "I have heard nothing specific, but if anyone were going to take the chance to get at me, today would be a good opportunity."

  "You expect it," she said, watching him very closely.

  "I do." After all, if this truly were his oldest enemy, this would be too good an opportunity. "Be prepared for anything. I'll have men on hand, so if someone attacks or attempts to blow the manor up, they'll get you out immediately. You remember Byrnes?"

  "That grim-faced Nighthawk who doesn't know how to smile?"

  "That's the one. He'll come for you if something happens."

  Adele shivered. "Who do you suspect?"

  "Someone who doesn't like me very much."

  "So it could be anyone then?"

  Touché. The girl was swift of tongue. "I see the anticipation of your scheming finally blossoming into its reward has taken none of the edge off you."

  "You're the one you said I was a viper, through and through." Adele paused, looking thoughtful. "If something does happen, do you think anyone will be hurt? I have friends, Malloryn.... My sister.... They'll all be here today."

  "The matter will be dealt with. I don't intend to have anyone killed at my wedding. It's a bad omen."

  "Malloryn." This was said in a warning tone. "I do wish you'd tell me what was going on and who has threatened you."

  "Well, you'd have the most motive." He watched concern flicker in her eyes, and slowly changed his mind. "But then, that would disrupt this wedding. And you want to be married."

  Adele gave him her sweet smile, the one that made the hackles on the back of his neck rise. "Of course I do, Your Grace. Who wouldn't want to marry a duke?"

  Pretty words, but so lacking in inflection he couldn't help but doubt them.

  "Why did you wish to marry me?" he finally asked. The question had been tickling at the back of his mind.

  Adele fussed with her gown, tilting her shoulder this way and that, as if her image was the only thing on her mind. Green eyes met his in the mirror. "It was your charm, Malloryn. It quite swept me off my feet."

  He didn't know what had prompted the question, and regretted having asked. He and Adele had settled into a well-practiced duel at this stage; thrust, parry, disengage. Clearly she had no interest in meeting him in the middle. "So be it. If that is the case then I shall see you at the ceremony."

  And he turned toward the door.

  He was almost there when she broke the stalemate.

  "You never asked."

  Malloryn paused in the doorway. "Asked about what?"

  "That night in Lord Abernathy's garden. You never asked who had cut me."

  His gaze narrowed on her. "All right. You have my attention."

  "You presumed it was me." There she stood in her princess gown, defiant and arrogant.

  "I presumed it was you. Or some... acquaintance."

  "Conspirator, you mean?"

  This time he couldn't stop a faint smile. "Let us be blunt then. I assumed you had organized for some blue blood to do the deed."

  There. The words were said, but they didn't seem to have the effect he'd been after.

  Adele stood in the too-tidy remnants of what had once been her room, as proud as any queen. "What if it wasn't a conspirator? Did you ever think of that?"

  He had not. Malloryn's eyelids grew sleepy as he examined her. It wouldn't have been the first time some debutante had been attacked. But... could he trust her? Adele was sometimes shockingly ruthless. "It was a rather enormous coincidence. You, rushing out of the shadows all bloodied and breathless, straight into my arms, just as half the Echelon happened to stroll around the hedge. You breathed not a word of protest when my honor was besmirched, except to claim we were anticipating our engagement."

  "I won't lie. I saw you there and the moment I realized who you were, I thought you might help me. You've made your stance quite clear about the thrall-hunters. Believe it or not, I considered you the lesser of two evils." She smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Which says something, I believe."

  Anger stirred, deep in his veins. This was precisely what he'd meant to counter when he came up with the law regarding those blue bloods who sought to take a woman's blood by force. His voice hardened. "Who, Adele?"

  "Does it matter?" She was smoothing her skirts again, a nervous habit, he assumed.

  Malloryn took a step toward her. "Yes. It does. If you were afraid of someone... I could forgive that."

  This time he wasn't imagining the fear that flickered through those green eyes. Adele looked away. "I cannot give you a name."

  "Then I cannot believe you."

  She was one of the best liars he'd ever encountered, after all.

  "Adele, if you are telling the truth, then know this... I am very, very good at discovering secrets. If someone did threaten you, then I will find him. And I will make him pay for what he did to you. But beyond that... nothing changes. Do you understand?"

  She stared at herself in the mirror, swallowing faintly as she smoothed her gown over her hips. "I understand."

  "I'll see you at the altar then."

  You can do this. You'll be safe now, and no blue blood will ever be able to touch you again....

  Adele stared at her pinched expression in the mirror.

 
The pearls looked wrong.

  But they're Grandmother’s, and if there's anyone you want standing at your side today, it's her. Or the memory of her.

  She would have wanted to be here on your wedding day.

  "My mockery of a wedding day," she whispered, clutching the pearls as if they were strangling her.

  Heat flooded Adele's eyes. She couldn't breathe. And her corset was too tight. All she'd wanted was for her sister to be at her side this morning, but her mother wouldn't even allow her that.

  I wash my hands of you, Adele. I am done. Once this is over, I expect never to see you darken my door again, do you understand?

  Do you understand? the Duke of Malloryn had asked.

  Oh, yes, she understood all too well. Adele caught hold of the edge of her old bed, clenching her eyes shut as she put herself back together, piece by piece. After all, it was clear the only person she would ever be able to rely upon was herself.

  Slowly, she released the shuddering breath she was holding. You have a heart of ice.

  Nerves of steel.

  A will of iron.

  Nothing could touch her anymore. Not if she didn't let it touch her. Malloryn might hate her for trapping him like this, but at least she would be safe, and then she could use her pin money to rescue her younger sister, Harriet, from the path her parents had forced her down years ago.

  Harriet would never have to go through what Adele had.

  No matter what she had to do.

  Adele swallowed the burning lump in her throat and opened her eyes, meeting her emotionless gaze in the mirror.

  All she needed to do was suffer through this ceremony and she'd finally be free. Malloryn had sworn never to touch her. They would live separate lives.

  Harriet would be safe.

  And that was when something moved behind her in the reflection.

  A wet hand clamped over her mouth, jerking her back against a hard body before she could even scream. Not a hand. A handkerchief. It smelled like— She wanted to gag, but her eyes were fluttering, her lungs caught in a chemical haze. A hint of a pale figure loomed behind her in the reflection, his hair the color of bleached bone.

  Adele's knees weakened, her fist flailing helplessly.

  Malloryn would probably be relieved.

  Because she was fairly certain she wasn't going to make it to her own wedding....

  The world vanished around her as Adele's body slumped.

  Chapter 18

  The Duke of Malloryn stood at the altar, his hands crossed in front of him as he stared directly at the garland of flowers.

  "Nervous?" Leo Barrons asked, at his side.

  There was no one else he could have asked to stand with him. Malloryn's gaze flickered to his friend, and he arched a brow. "Do I have cause to be nervous?"

  "It's your wedding day," Barrons mused with a faint smile. "Aren't all grooms nervous?"

  "Were you?"

  "No." Barrons's glance slid toward his wife in the crowd, his dark eyes softening. "Mina was all I ever wanted, so I was bloody thrilled to finally claim her for my own."

  Thrilled.

  Malloryn's lips pressed firmly together as a sudden lashing of anger sliced through him. As calm as he might claim to be, he hated feeling manipulated like this. Resentment burned within him like a smoldering coal nothing could extinguish. Most of the time he thought he had it under control, but the entire day rubbed him the wrong way.

  He just wanted this over and done with so he could set his mind to other matters.

  Then Adele could go her way, and he could go his, and never the twain should meet.

  It's not Adele's fault you're feeling this way, he told himself. You can't blame her for choosing the wrong flowers.

  His gaze slid to the flower wreaths; gorgeous red roses and sprays of carnations. And his heart gave an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest as Catherine's image came to mind.

  It might have been seventeen years since he'd pledged his heart to her, but he rarely thought of her these days. He refused to, the memories tainted by what had happened to her.

  Yet now, the sight of her favorite flower—a red rose—had his skin itching from the inside out with all the ways this felt wrong.

  This should have been her day, but Lord Balfour had robbed him of that chance all those years ago when he put a bullet through her heart. Malloryn had been too late to save her, and all he could do was hold her limp body in his arms and scream his bitter rage at Balfour.

  "Easy," Barrons warned, and Malloryn realized the color had faded from the world as the hunger within him rose to the surface.

  "I'm fine."

  This entire day conspired to make him sweat. He glanced at the queen, and saw Gemma in place behind her. Their eyes met, and he gave her a faint nod.

  Time ticked by.

  Where the bloody hell was Adele? He had the sudden brief suspicion the bride had actually run away, but then laughed under his breath. Some punters would hope so as he knew there was a betting book in the Company of Rogues about whether he'd actually go through with this, but he knew Adele far too well. One didn't plan a military campaign like this just to cry free at the last moment.

  She wanted to marry him. He just wasn't entirely certain why.

  "You never asked...." Her whisper stirred through his memory. Damn her, why did she have to say that? Was this another game she played? Malloryn had ice water in his veins, and one of the reasons he'd agreed to go through with this was because Adele did too.

  Don't you dare think of her as though she's the victim in all this.

  "Malloryn," Barrons murmured, pulling out his pocket watch and checking it.

  "She'll be here," he said, ignoring the whispers and rustling fabric behind him in the ballroom of Adele's parents’ home.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  If she didn't make an appearance soon, he was going to punch something.

  Ten minutes passed. The whispers grew and finally Malloryn's temper snapped. The bloody little bitch. She'd actually decided to cry free. He couldn't believe it.

  Mrs. Hamilton gave him a thin, nervous smile. "I'll go see what the holdup is."

  That was when Ingrid slid into the room, looking breathless. Their eyes met across the expanse of the ballroom, and hers were wide and startled.

  A sense of tension leached through his body as she gestured quickly with her fingers to let him know she needed to speak with him.

  Malloryn made his excuses, pasting a smile on his face as he nodded to the guests and strode toward her. "Where is she?" he demanded through gritted teeth.

  "I don't know," she whispered. "I waited outside her door for twenty minutes, but it finally got the better of me. Malloryn, the room's empty. There's no sign of Adele, only the breeze whispering through the window."

  Gone.

  She'd actually done it.

  Fled from this wedding, made him a laughingstock....

  Malloryn headed for the stairs, taking them briskly. "Fetch Byrnes and Gemma. I swear I'm going to thrash Adele when I get my hands on her."

  Malloryn prowled Adele's bedchambers, tossing aside pillows and books as if that would provide some clue as to his missing bride.

  Time to tread carefully, judging by the expression on his face. Gemma examined the room. Curtains blowing in the faint breeze, the sill all the way up. No signs of a struggle.

  Malloryn finally gave up, scraping a hand over his mouth. "I don't understand. Surely she would have left a letter behind to explain her actions. And she wanted to get married."

  Gemma crossed to the open window, kneeling to examine the latch. A tiny chip of paint was missing, but if someone had broken in, then they were an expert.

  "You swear you heard nothing?" he asked Ingrid.

  "I arrived a minute or two after you left, according to the guard I replaced," Ingrid admitted. "I didn't hear a thing."

  "How the hell did she escape? She was wearing her damned wedding dress. The thing must have weighed half a ton.
" Malloryn spun toward the door. "Where's the guard you replaced? Where's her sister? If Adele was going to run, then she may have confided in the girl. What was her name? Harriet?"

  A tiny thread of pale pink was caught on the sill. Gemma tugged the piece of silk free and straightened. "Malloryn."

  He turned abruptly, moments away from striding through the door.

  "She went through the window." Gemma held the silk strand up.

  Byrnes arrived, entering the room like a bleak, black-clad incongruity among all the pink wallpaper. The thick overcast clouds and fog outside meant he could move about during the day, but he was limited to the inside of the house. Sunlight burned his skin these days.

  Ava scurried in behind him, whispering in Malloryn's ear. "I questioned her sister and mother, but neither of them knows anything. The sister's upset. She swore Adele would never run. She wouldn't tell me why she was so certain, but she stressed the fact Adele needed to be married."

  "What's that smell?" Byrnes asked, exchanging glances with Ingrid and rubbing his nose.

  "I can't smell a damned thing," Ingrid admitted. "Gemma?"

  She shook her head, but focused on Byrnes. "Your senses are stronger than either of ours. What do you think it is? All I'm getting is perfume."

  "It's... something chemical." His nose screwed up as he stalked the room, trying to track the scent. "I recognize it from somewhere, though I'm not certain where."

  Malloryn watched him like a hawk. "Concentrate, Byrnes."

  "It's ether," said Ava, taking a slow sniff. "I use it myself sometimes when I assist Dr. Gibson at the Nighthawks Guild. It's quite familiar to me."

  Everyone in the room grew still.

  "Ether?" Malloryn repeated, his face tight and feral. "Why would Adele's room smell like ether?"

  Gemma's heart dropped through her abdomen as everything became ruthlessly clear. "Oh, no."

  "Oh, no?" Malloryn's gaze cut to hers.

  "It was never the queen he was after today." Perhaps the Chameleon knew he couldn't get to the real target today with all the security, but there'd been hardly anyone watching the bride. "He's taken Adele in her place."

  Just to prove he could.