Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls) (32 page)

Striding to Grace’s side, he pulled her into his arms, not giving a damn what her lady’s maid thought. “You’re absolutely stunning, and I love you. Say you’ll marry me.”

Her jaw dropped, and he tightened his hold when her knees buckled.

“I beg your pardon,” Grace whispered. “Could you repeat that? I’m quite certain my hearing is failing me.”

He chuckled and kissed her. “Your hearing is perfect, though I didn’t go about this properly.” Bending on one knee, he placed a ring on the tip of her ring finger. “Grace, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

Grace burst into tears and threw her arms around Devlin’s neck, holding on for dear life. She buried her nose in his chest, loathe for him to detect any signs of uncertainty written on her face.

“Leave us, Emma,” Devlin said gently. As soon as the door clicked shut, he unraveled her arms and cradled her face. “Is that a yes or a no, my love?”

His heart pounded harder than a thunderous rain against her chest, and all her fears bubbled to the surface. Was this part and parcel of his contract with Josephine, declaring his love before he destroyed her with his words? Shame filled her breast for questioning his intentions, but Josephine had planted nasty seeds of doubt in her mind and toyed with her emotions … That foul, malicious creature. This could’ve been the happiest moment in Grace’s life, if she knew the truth.

She hadn’t detected an ounce of insincerity in his declaration, only adoration and hope. What was she to believe? He must betray a loved one in exchange for Josephine’s assistance, or the black magic would fade. She wished to confide in him about Rosalie, but to what end? If he truly loved her, then sharing her secret now would be nothing shy of cruel, because he could not save her soul. Only she held that power, if she dared to believe in herself.

Besides, Josephine would never relent, and if Devlin failed to deliver on his promise, there would be hell to pay. A massacre beyond any the world had ever seen. Lord Marcus Deveraux had been a viscount, and though his ballroom reveal had garnered an impressive guest list, it did not compare with the RSVPs of those intent on witnessing the resurrection of the 8th Marquess of Covington.

No, she couldn’t share her secret … but she could share in his joy.

Devlin rubbed her cheek and whispered, “Please say you love me, too, and wish to be my wife.”

More than anything. “Yes, I … ”

 He slammed his mouth on hers and lifted her in his arms, twirling her around and around until she screamed for mercy.

“Careful with my gown!” she cried.

“I’ll buy you another,” he said, his voice rich with laughter. “No, I’ll buy you hundreds. One for each day of the year. You’ve made me the happiest of men. Tell me you love me, Grace. I want to hear it from your lips.”

She shared in his laughter, content to enjoy their happiness while it lasted. “I love you, Devlin. More than my own life.”

He kissed her again, his mouth devouring hers in a passionate embrace. She threaded her hands beneath his jacket and pulled him close, wanting to feel every inch of his body against hers … needing his touch one last time before the guests arrived … yet knowing there was little time. Devlin seemed of the same mind.

“We must be quick,” he rasped, reaching for the top button of her dress. “And careful not to ruin your hair.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You’ll have to ride me like a stallion.”

She giggled and nodded, urging him on with desperate pecks of her lips on his neck. He’d almost managed a quarter of the buttons when a knock at the door startled her.

“Enter!” Devlin barked, his breathing harsh.

“Beg your pardon,” Victor announced, his voice solemn, “but Lady Beaufort has arrived and requests a private audience with you. The guests will arrive any moment. What would you like me to do? Your mother and stepfather are currently enjoying refreshment in the parlor with her.”

“Please request that my mother start the receiving line,” Devlin said with a sigh. “We’ll be down in a minute, and after I speak with Lady Beaufort, I’ll need a word with you in private.”

“Very good,” Victor said before seeing himself out.

The moment the lock clicked behind him, Grace asked, “Why would Lady Beaufort wish a private audience with you tonight? She already bore you bad tidings once. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Because she’s Josephine, in human form.”

Grace felt her mouth fall open, like a big, gaping fish. She recalled meeting Josephine in her human form in the forest, directly after Lady Beaufort’s visit. It couldn’t be.

“That’s impossible. I would’ve recognized her voice immediately.”

“I’m afraid not, my love.” Devlin rubbed her arms, warding off the sudden chill accosting her. “She disguised her voice to shield you from the truth. Will you be all right if I leave you to speak with her, presumably to finalize our plans?”

She nodded, woodenly, struck by the sheer force of Josephine’s manipulation. Had she somehow put Devlin’s mother up to retiring his title in order to press her advantage? It wouldn’t surprise her in the least.

Nor should it surprise her that Josephine attended the ball in human form. How else could she kill Devlin’s mother? Guests would flee, screaming in terror the moment she arrived in her half-serpent, half-woman form. It seemed Grace was not so crazy, after all, for feeling uncomfortable in Lady Beaufort’s presence.

“Do not fret,” he said, kissing her cheek. He turned her around and went to work refastening her gown. “This will all be behind us soon, I promise. Take a moment to refresh yourself, and then I’ll meet you in the receiving line.”

He strode to the door, then paused and returned to her side. “One more thing … I almost forgot about your engagement ring. Allow me to hold on to it during the ball.” He slipped it off her finger then kissed her hand. “Tonight is an evening for special announcements all around. I wish to surprise our guests.”

Her heart rate accelerated as she struggled to decipher his meaning. Something wasn’t altogether right. If he wished to make a surprise announcement, then why had he not waited to propose in front of all his guests? Did he plan to declare her insane on the heels of announcing their engagement? She had lost the plot entirely, but she no longer cared to try and understand. The hour was at hand, and she would know the truth of the matter soon enough.

Devlin exited Grace’s bedroom and approached the staircase with confident strides. Everything was on track and in accordance with his plan. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he nodded curtly to his mother, who stood regally at the entrance, greeting guests with genuine warmth. She was in her element, basking in the attention and good wishes of the peerage.

He gestured for Victor to follow him to the parlor. “Don’t let anyone in.”

Victor nodded and then closed the doors firmly behind him. A broad smile erupted on Devlin’s face. Tonight marked the end of his long journey.

“Welcome back, Lady Beaufort,” he said, bowing before her hand and bestowing a kiss. He stared into her eyes and did a double take, unprepared for the rich chocolate-brown color gazing back at him. Her magic knew no bounds. She appeared human beneath her ensemble, but was she really? Shaking away the unnerving thought, he concentrated on the pressing business before him. “I assume all is well and you’re prepared to follow through on our arrangement? My guests are arriving as we speak. I haven’t much time. What can I do for you?”

“When will you make your announcement?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all I need to know so I can place myself close to your mother.”

He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, relaxing his stance. “After she raises a toast to welcome me home. Imagine her outrage when I invite a medium to stand with us during her speech. You know my mother, she’ll practically do all the work for me.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Devlin stepped closer and sneered. “Do you imagine I need her help? Make no mistake, I want my mother dead! I’ve played my first card tonight and declared my love for Eveline. Are you worried I stacked the deck?” He bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Or did you bet more than you can afford to lose?”

The corner of her eye ticked, and she whirled away from him with clenched fists. He chuckled and strode to the exit. But before he could open the door, Josephine’s hand shot out and held it closed. Goddamn, but the woman was fast and strong. Most definitely not human in that regard.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Josephine said, pressing her body to his back.

“Don’t flatter yourself, madam.” He turned to glare down his nose. “As if I’d fuck vermin.”

Her anger was palpable, forcing blood through her body so hard he could feel her heartbeat through the material of his jacket. At least that part of her appeared to be human.

“I see a triumphant glint in your eyes,” she hissed, “and I hope, for your sake, that it shines for all the right reasons."

“If you see triumph glowing in my eyes, it’s because I never gamble unless I’m certain I can win. We have a bargain, and I expect you to uphold your end of it. Don’t fuck with
me
, Josephine. I’m your worst nightmare.” He shoved her away, and she stumbled onto her arse, shock widening her eyes as the sole of his shoe pressed into her throat. “They call me the Devil for a reason. You’re the gatekeeper to Hell, so that makes you my bitch.”

He yanked open the door, glad to find Victor still standing guard. It wouldn’t be quite the thing if his guests got an eyeful of Lady Beaufort scrambling to her feet. But bloody fucking hell, it felt good to be a son of a bitch sometimes. Smoothing his hands over his jacket, he cleared his throat and spoke discreetly.

“Give Lady Beaufort a moment to collect herself, Victor, and then you may escort her to the ballroom.”

Victor glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the spectacle inside, and snorted. “My pleasure.”

• • •

Josephine seethed as she crawled toward the nearest settee, using it to assist in her ascent. She shook out her voluminous red skirt and smoothed the bodice of her gown before checking her coiffure with her hands. Captain Limmerick would rue the day he had disrespected Satan’s beloved daughter.

Are you worried I stacked the deck? Or did you bet more than you can afford to lose?

Silly, silly man. That was a moot point … because she
never
played by the rules … hence she
never
lost.

With a flourish, she opened the double doors to the parlor and swept into the hallway with her head held high. She scanned the receiving line. Her eyes locked on Lady Winters, and she nodded in greeting as Devlin joined his mother’s side. A Cheshire smile curved up Josephine’s lips. Devlin was the canary, and she the cat.

Meow.

• • •

Devlin greeted his guests and was pleased to discover his memory didn’t fail him. Even after sixteen years at sea, he was able to place names and faces together, along with certain boyhood memories. It was while he was reminiscing about one of those memories that a hush descended on the room. He glanced up and smiled.

Grace commanded the stairs with Brother Anselm at her side. She held herself erect with the elegance of a black swan, standing out against the backdrop and so painfully beautiful all eyes were riveted in her direction.

His mother perused Grace’s attire and muttered under her breath, “God in Heaven, but the woman is an angel, and she comes with her own monk. Wherever did you find her, Dominick?”

“Hold your tongue, Mother!” he said, clenching his jaw. “Eveline is the respectable daughter of a baron, and you will treat her as such, do you hear me?”

Her steel-gray eyes sparkled with mirth, and she turned toward the next guest in line, ignoring him. When Grace arrived in the line, he kissed her hand and presented her formally to his mother and stepfather.

“Mother, Lord Winters, may I present Miss Eveline Mitchell, daughter of Sir Charles Mitchell. And this is her friend, Brother Anselm. They are my honored guests, so please make them feel welcomed.”

“Lovely to meet you both,” his mother said graciously, though she eyed Brother Anselm with barely restrained contempt. She offered Grace a curt smile. Her reception of Grace surprised him given what a cold bitch his mother could be. Why the attempt at civility?

He observed his mother a while longer, but she didn’t flinch or look his way, other than to introduce guests or interject in his conversations with witty banter. Her gaze drifted to the entrance from time to time, however that was to be expected given her excitement over the exceptional guest list.

“You must be bored out of your wits,” his mother finally said, raising her brow. “Why don’t you join everyone in the ballroom and allow me to finish up here?”

He couldn’t shake the feeling she was hiding something from him, but after another five minutes, Devlin accepted her offer. Let her be useful for once in his life. It stung his pride to admit he was actually glad she’d stayed and relieved him of the burden.

He followed the crowd through the conservatory and down the winding staircase. Excited chatter surrounded him, and the orchestra music flittered through the hallway, adding to the magical tone of the evening. As he approached the billiards room, Hatchet stepped into his path.

“We need to speak,” Hatchet said, his tone flat.

Devlin motioned toward the billiards room, where a small table for two in the far corner beckoned. Four gentlemen were engaged in a game of billiards, and he greeted them with a curt nod before sitting to face Hatchet.

“Why do you look so grim?” he asked, his voice an octave above a whisper.

“Emma refuses to listen to me,” Hatchet said, gritting his teeth. “I don’t want her anywhere near Josephine. You’re her employer. Command her to return to her quarters for the evening.”

Pressing his lips together, Devlin schooled his expression. He knew better than any other, except Victor perhaps, why Hatchet was uneasy with the evening’s events. But, as much as it pained him to test his friend’s nerves, this was beyond his control. “Emma loves Eveline and wishes to be here for her best friend. You know that, Hatchet. You can’t force your will on her.”