Hold Your Breath 01 - Stone Devil Duke (4 page)

“Thank you for your concern, Aunt Beatrix. I am tremendously grateful for you and Uncle Howard, but—”

“No. Nothing more. No excuses. The Samuelson ball is tonight, and I understand the guest list is most impressive. You will take an additional nap and we will be by at eight to escort you.”

Aggie gave her aunt a half-smile. Aunt Beatrix
was so very like her father. Always moving forward and allowing very little to veer her off-course.

“Yes.” Aggie nodded. “I will be ready. Thank you.”

Aunt Beatrix stood. “Delightful, dear. Until tonight.”

Aggie stared at the mahogany door
as Aunt Beatrix closed it behind her. All Aggie wanted was the serenity the country estate could afford her and her family. Serenity without the threat on her life, of course.

Life was so muc
h easier outside of London. Aggie certainly hadn’t been able to enjoy any of the season’s events over the past several weeks, not as she had during her debut several years ago. In that carefree time. Before Jason disappeared. Before her father’s murder.

The simplicity of that long-ago life hit her, and Aggie
slid back down on the bed, pulling the blanket tight under her chin. If only.

Her mind wandered over memories of that simplicity, and before she knew it
, she was drawing comparisons of the men of the
ton
she met years ago, to her dark-haired fare last night. He was of the peerage, that she easily deduced by the coat-of-arms on his carriage, but he was not the slightest like the easygoing men she had once flirted with.

Her fare
had a darkness about him. It wasn’t merely his dark hair and eyes, it was in the way he moved so easily in the night, like the darkness was where he belonged. The hooded expression on his face.

He had secrets
—that, she could tell. Secrets that haunted him. She knew, because she saw that same look reflected back on her every time she looked in a mirror.

But
whatever darkness he sheltered, he kept it in check. At least long enough to graciously help a complete stranger who—she hated to admit—needed his help in the midst of a skirmish that had her outnumbered four to one. She had come dangerously close to failing her family—and dying in the process.

And
then he was kind enough to put up with her inexcusable breakdown after feeling the dead man’s blood, still warm, on her hand.

Gracious, kind, and clearly dangerous.

Aggie realized she hadn’t even asked for his full name. Rude. But no matter. It was clear he wasn’t going to share, and she would not see him again. They clearly ran in different circles. Plus, after she found the remaining two men and their leader, she would go back to Clapinshire, back to the country. But she still said a silent prayer in thanks for the man’s fortunate presence in her coach.

Aggie rolled over in bed, squishing her face deep into the soft pillow, as the image of the tall man wit
h the dark grey eyes refused to leave her mind. She couldn’t help but imagine the peace and security the man’s family must feel, knowing that he was protecting them, and always would.

The imaginings made
her heart ache for the peace she feared would never be hers again.

If only.

Devin
’s ire instantly elevated when he entered the ballroom, for the crush was thick and sure to hinder his search for Aggie. He moved down the marble staircase with cat-like ease, graceful and aloof.

“There you are.
” Killian Hayward, Marquess of Southfork, moved through the throng and joined him within moments. “I almost thought you had given up on joining us tonight.”

“Apparently, there was no chance
of you missing my entrance.” Devin tilted his head in wry amusement at the crowd before them. Killian flanked his side and followed his gaze.

“
It does look pathetic, does it not?” Killian shook his head in sympathy at the wave of commotion that was spreading across the room like wildfire. “I do not know how you handle it so indifferently.”

Devin
shrugged his shoulders.

“Well
, quick, before the vultures set in.” Killian inclined his head to the men, approaching from several angles, who were eager to confer with the two friends. “I have found out quite a bit.”

“Tell me.”
Address in hand, Devin had easily found out her real name and about the functions she was to attend over the next several days. Bits and pieces of her story were still trailing in when he left for the ball. But he still wanted as much information on Lady Augustine Christopherson as possible.

“Most important
, she is here.”

That caught
Devin’s attention. His eyes quickly scanned the room, but he found nothing. “Where?”

“The left far wall. Next to the middle terrace opening
.”

Devin
’s eyes swept over the spot several times before he finally spotted her.

Cloistered by a ma
tronly cluster of women, his search had passed over the group several times before her face was upturned. He recognized her immediately, even with a dirt-free face.

T
here was no mistaking her large green eyes. Even at this distance. Surrounded by soot or not—in the glow of a carriage lamp or in a well-lit ballroom—they were wholly unique.

A classically lined face, she was not an immediately striking beauty, not one that reached out a
nd grabbed the jugular. She possessed a quiet, sophisticated beauty. The kind that the longer one stared, the more obvious the beauty became. Elegant beauty that would not fade over time.

“Is that what you were expecting?”

Devin shook his head, eyes not leaving her. No. He hadn’t quite expected her to be so desirable.

“Me either,” Killian said. “From what you described, I was thinking of a tiny little waif with a bulldog face to match her actions.”

Killian snatched two glasses of Madeira from a passing tray. “And it looks as though your time is officially up,” Killian said in a low voice as he handed the glass to Devin.

He turned from
Devin, a smile plastered on his face as he attended the task of maneuvering the men now surrounding the pair. “Lord Smiton, Lord Torrent, so good to see you.”

Devin
afforded polite greetings, then didn’t hesitate to tune the men out and shift position so he could keep Aggie in his line of vision. His eyes swept over her, assessing her.

Her
attractiveness caught him off-guard. The soot-stained face he had looked at the previous night had hinted at, but not promised the real beauty she was. A slight frown settled on her face, telling him she was completely ignoring the conversation about her and concentrating hard on some issue.

She absent—
mindedly tucked an errant tendril of honey-colored hair behind her ear. Her hair, soft with waves, was upswept in an elegant chignon, tendrils hopelessly escaping to curl about her slender neck.

The duke’s eyes moved downward. Her cream gown was modest by society’s standards, the neckline only teasing the
graceful slope of her breasts—ample, and set upon a lean body.

She
was enticing, and intriguing enough for him to expend the energy. Those eyes. That one brief moment she had let all the despair and hopelessness she felt portal into the world through those green eyes. She had tried to cover it up, but Devin had seen it. And it was, above all, what he remembered of her, what intrigued him, what haunted him. That one unguarded moment.

He wanted to help her.

His eyes ran back up her body, stopping at her bosom again. And, it turned out, he wanted her.

That
part would be easy. Women were bees to honey when it came to his title and money. Aggie would be no different. The fact that women got his bed, and no proposal, never bothered any of them. It was understood by the women of the
ton
that his bed was all that was available. And it was rarely empty.

Aggie looked about the ballroom, nodding to one of the elderly ladies surrounding her.
Devin saw a very poised, interested look slip onto her face, but it was not enough to fool him—he knew she was bored out of her breeches. Applicable because he had seen those legs in breeches.

Devin
almost chuckled to himself when, within minutes, she flicked open her fan, waved it prettily before her face, and after a few exchanges, exited the ballroom for the terrace.

She was looking to escape the boredom of the party.

Devin smiled. A more perfect opportunity he could not have planned himself.

~~~

Aggie leaned against the black iron railing, gulping down fresh air, fighting the suffocation that had set in. She needed to be concentrating on the evening’s plans, not listening to the smothering gibberish of gossip.

Aggie had never heard the gos
sip reach as high a pitch as it did when the Duke of Dunway made entrance. The murmur had started at the far end of the ballroom, and like a giant wave, swept through the crowd toward the far end where Aggie stood, jarring her from her thoughts.

“
Aggie, my dearest, this one is to be avoided at all costs,” her aunt said.

The matrons surrounding her
flew into tizzies.

“The mother…”

“…the dreadful end of her…”

“…his
horrific rage…”

“…should
not be allowed into polite society…”

“…for only his title…”

On and on it went for several minutes, the ladies gleefully tossing about their gossip. The flurry and agitation of the people whispering about the duke soon began to cause feathers from the many headdresses to escape and float into the air.

Aggie
had to stifle her laughter at the sight of a sea of flying feathers floating above heads. As amused as she was with the suddenly comical ballroom, she couldn’t help but hear the many comments, and within moments, had pieced together the
ton
’s story of Devin Stephenson, twelfth Duke of Dunway.

Aggie
had raised herself onto the balls of her feet, peeking around the heads of the taller men in the ballroom in effort to catch a glimpse of the duke she was supposed to avoid. Neither interested, nor tall enough to gain better positioning to actually see the duke, Aggie rolled back down on her white slipper-encased feet.

She didn’t know the d
uke, had never heard his name before, but made a mental note to avoid him. Attention and scandal—true or not, Aggie didn’t really care—surrounded him, and Aggie could not draw any undue attention to herself by a chance meeting with the man.

Her thoughts had already shifted
back to going over the plan for the evening, but the ladies surrounding her, of course, were not done, all vying for her fresh ear to gossip in.

So
Aggie had flicked open her fan, flickered it, waited an appropriate five minutes, then excused herself to the terrace for fresh air.

N
ow, thankfully, she was in the clear night air. She took another long breath, enjoying the woodsy scent of neatly trimmed boxwoods wafting up from below the empty section of the terrace.

Tonight had to be the night.
Everything was out in the open—the killers knew what she was up to. Even though it would be impossible for them to discern her from the hundreds of other hack drivers in her dark garb, they still knew she was going about town disguised as a hack driver. They would be looking for her. And she was going to let them find her.

Aggie leaned
back from the railing and smoothed down the skirt of her delicate cream gown. Possibilities. She always had to run through them, again and again, questioning her own decisions. The only other option she could think of that would allow her to run amuck through the city without notice was posing as a lady of the night.

Playing a prostitute
was again—as it had been when she first formulated her plan—not an option. She couldn’t even begin to imagine all the trouble that could cause her. Terrifying. A hack driver was still the safest option.

Her lip slipped under her teeth.
She had to sharpen her wits. Those remaining brutes would be out for her. With luck, she would stumble upon them quickly. And with a little more luck, she wouldn’t overreact as she had done the previous night. She would also make certain not to put an innocent man’s life in danger again.

Aggie fidgeted with
her white gloves as she leaned her forearms on the railing. Her eyes closed with resolve as she worked through her forthcoming foray into the slums of London. Tonight had to be the night.

A
warm breeze picked up, lightly caressing the tendrils that had escaped Aggie’s artfully piled hair. She opened her eyes to gaze at the small formal garden below, thankful to be the only one taking advantage of this section of the terrace. Roses rode the breeze, mingling with the boxwoods.

Aggie could see countless couples strolling about the grounds and into the maze at the back of the ga
rden. Laughter flitted up frequently from that area, and Aggie guessed that some of the couples had been gaily lost within. The night air enveloped her, and she allowed herself a few short moments to succumb to it, balancing one elbow on the railing to allow her hand to cup her chin.

Love
must be the most wonderful blessing. The thought snuck into Aggie’s conscious mind before she knew it was there. And the second she recognized it, she snapped at herself.

Thoughts of love were not a possibility, and she hated herself when she submitted to senseless snippets of an unattainable dream.
She had her family to protect. She had herself to protect. Aggie shook her head and straightened as she cleared her mind free from fanciful notions of love.

She needed to get back to t
he task at hand—how to draw out the serpents that had slid into her life and were trying to choke the life out of her. Dispose of them, and she would be free. Free to get back to a peaceful life in the country with her mother and sister. Nuggets of hope filled Aggie.

A
tendril of light hair caressed the sleek indent in the back center of Aggie’s neck and gave her goose bumps. She reached back to tuck the piece into her upsweep, but bumped into something very solid.

A hand.

A hand at the back of her neck.

Not a piece of hair
blowing in the breeze. A hand.

Whirling around, a
scream stuck in her throat and came out as a tiny croak.

H
er pathetic croak smothered into an exasperated groan when she saw what she spun to.

S
taring down at her were the most unusual steel grey eyes she had ever seen. Eyes that were completely unmistakable—it was her fare from last night.

Her shock
mutated into anger at being needlessly frightened. “Blazes bite your ass, sir. Only a hell-bound rogue would sneak onto a lady like that.”

“Hello there, nymph.
” He inclined his head. “Not exactly the enthusiastic greeting I was expecting, but it will suffice. And it is good to know you have such a tongue.”

“
What—” Aggie’s eyes darted back and forth on the balcony as she sputtered, “what are you doing here?”

What the blazes? How in the world had this gentleman just
shown up at a party she was attending? Aggie fought for breath. And not only had he shown up, but he appeared with the audacity to tickle the back of her neck.

“Not the wittiest reply I
have heard this evening, Aggie. But I realize after our last encounter you had hoped—nay, prayed—that I would fall into the dark, forgotten abyss of which you must throw many men.”

He moved to the railing next to her,
casually leaning on it. Body frozen, arms at her sides, her head followed him. She knew her jaw was open, but she couldn’t quite manage to close it.

“You really must be more selective of the men yo
u pick up in your coach, my dear. It would not do at all to have your dance card filled with past fares now, would it?”

His eyebrow cocked in mock question as he looked down on her. “Much less with the men
that you have invited to a shoot-out.”