How a Lady Weds a Rogue (24 page)

“Dear God, Diantha,” he groaned, his palms sliding over her behind and pulling her flush against his arousal. “I was serious. I cannot take this.” He pressed fervent kisses against her brow, cheeks, and eyes. “Now
go
.” He put her abruptly away from him.

She couldn’t move. Her heartbeats raced, her skin was overheated, thoroughly alive.

He looked like stone. Fevered stone.
“Go.”

She swallowed hard. “Good night, then, Mr. Yale. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Perhaps in the morning?”

“I await the hour.”

She went. She fairly ran. She feared that if she did not run, she would hurl herself back into his arms and force him to make love to her beneath the shining half-moon. But she didn’t want to make him act contrary to his character ever again. He had suffered for her and she would respect the honor that commanded him by behaving as a real lady, albeit somewhat belatedly.

She met her brother at the terrace doors.

“Tracy, I have a horrid megrim. Will you take me home?”

He cast a frowning glance at the garden, then obliged.

Chapter 26

D
uncan stepped out from behind a carriage at the end of the long line of vehicles parked along the block. Nearby a trio of footmen threw dice against the curb, lights blazed from the Beaufetheringstone mansion, and coachmen tended to horses jangling harnesses along the row of carriages. It was a typical Mayfair night except for the Highlander assassin approaching Wyn and the lightness of his own step, which even a tricky departure from a ballroom filled with acquaintances had done nothing to disturb.

“Rather spruced up to be skulking about in the shadows, aren’t you, Eads?”

“Playing it cool for a marked man, aren’t ye, Yale?”

“Marked? Quite certain you’re not thinking of some other chap you’ve been hounding, old boy?”

In the dim light cast by the gas lamp above, the curve of the Highlander’s grin was barely discernable. “Damn, but yer nerves are steady as steel. Yer no even wondering why A’m here.”

“Thank you.” He reached into his coat pocket, drew out a cigar case, and proffered it to the earl. Duncan shook his head and Wyn returned the case to his coat. He no longer wanted it. He only wanted the woman with sparkling eyes that he’d had in his hands far too briefly after assuring her that this man posed him no threat. “But I am in fact wondering. Why are you still following me?”

“Because Yarmouth’s still paying me for it.”

At moments such as these, Wyn felt the scars on his spine and the knife tucked into his sleeve rather more acutely than he imagined was physically possible.

“You are not working for Myles?” That he hadn’t managed to learn this weeks ago proved the depths that he had fallen to before encountering Diantha on the road, depths from which he was only now arising.

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “She didna tell ye A was working for the duke?”

“She?”

“The lass.”

“If you are referring to Miss Lucas,” Wyn managed with credible nonchalance, “she did not. But I am somewhat astounded that you told
her
that bit of information. Tonight?”

“At yer house when A fetched ma horse.” Duncan studied him. Wyn didn’t like the scrutiny, or the discovery that Diantha had kept yet another secret from him. No doubt she had been trying to protect him, and no wonder her worry over his delayed arrival to town.

“I will dispense with the unnecessary,” he said, “and ask only why Yarmouth is still having you follow me when I have delivered him of his prize.”

“He daena care about the horse, ye damn fool. He wants ye.”

Wyn pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Do not tell me, Duncan, that you intend to kill me on this street corner now. Not tonight.” Not until he told Diantha what he’d learned in his afternoon’s research. Not until he apprised her of her mother’s situation and of the state of his heart.

Or, perhaps if he were to die shortly after all, it would be best to spare her the latter.

His hands did not shake, no longer after so many months of unsteadiness. But they were cold. He could not have finally come to this place in life only to now have life snatched from him.

“He daena wish me ta kill ye,” Duncan rumbled. “Anly ta give ye a message.”

“Ah.” Wyn pulled in an indiscernible breath. “That is good news. What is the message?”

Duncan’s look grew sober. “He wants ye ta call on him.”

“To meet with him personally, I presume.”

The Highlander nodded.

“And if I do not choose to oblige His Grace?”

Duncan’s face was grim. “He’ll have the girl.”

Now all went icy save his burning gut. He did not need to ask which girl or how the duke would have her. At the mill Duncan had guessed that Diantha meant something more to him than a job, and Wyn had long ago seen how the Duke of Yarmouth treated young females.

He stood breathless, paralyzed. “Goddamn you, Eads, you son of a bitch.”

Duncan shook his head. “A told him A woudna hurt her.”

“You shouldn’t have told him anything at all about her. She isn’t part of this.”
It could not come to this
.

“He refused me the gold he’d promised. He demanded ta know the reason A didna haul yer Welsh arse to Yarmouth a month ago.”

“Then he’s hired someone else to threaten her.” His mind sped. “You’ve come here now not because he sent you, but to warn me of that. The least you could do, damn you. Who?”

“He’s put a man in Savege’s household.”

“A servant. A sweep, perhaps, or a tradesman’s delivery boy if necessary.” Wyn would do the same if he wished to gain access to a lord’s house. “Easy enough to ferret out if he’s new to the staff.”

Duncan shook his head. “He’s determined. Yale, the man hates ye.”

“Then why doesn’t he simply have me killed? Why insist on seeing me?” Wyn gathered air into his compressed lungs. He turned and started toward the stables where he’d left Galahad. But he paused and looked over his shoulder. A halo of light surrounded Duncan’s massive frame.

“Duncan, the next time we meet, it had better be in hell, and you’d better run when you see me.”

W
yn went to Brooks’s. Viscount Gray could be found at the gentleman’s club most nights. Unmarried, with a wide circle of political friends and acquaintances, Colin cultivated his appearance as a gentleman of leisure, all the while watching, studying, and strategizing his next Falcon Club project.

It was yet early, and men lounged about the general chamber enjoying conversation, cards, dinner, and drink. The scent of tobacco smoke twined with cologne in the air, but to Wyn the brandy smelled stronger.

The viscount was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was among the crush at the Beaufetheringstone ball. But even Gray could not truly help him. She must not remain in this danger. Going to Yarmouth, offering himself up to the duke, seemed only a partial solution. He could not trust that, suspecting her importance to him, the duke would not harm her even so. Wyn had displeased plenty of men in his years as an agent of the crown. But only one man had he ever threatened with murder.

He turned toward the exit. Tracy Lucas stood there, his companions from the ball at his back.

“Mr. Yale.”

“Sir Tracy. A pleasure.” Wyn bowed, impatience prickling. But this was the one man in London he could not dismiss swiftly. “Gentlemen.” He nodded to the others.

“I’d like a private word with you, sir.” Lucas gestured him aside.

“Of course.” He hadn’t time for this. But desperation ran in his veins, and insane thoughts that if Lucas were a reasonable sort he might enlist his aid, tell him to sneak Diantha out of the house under cover of night, to take her into the countryside. The duke would not expect it. It might buy him time to find a more lasting solution to the danger in which he had put her, a solution that did not require him to travel to Yarmouth and hasten the end of his life.

Lucas went only a few paces before speaking. “I understand you’ve been out of town.”

“Yes. At my estate until today.”

“Then perhaps you don’t know this, but Carlyle told me you’ve offered for my sister, and by the way you were looking at her tonight I think you’d better know: she isn’t—well, there isn’t any other way to say it—she isn’t looking for a fellow like you.”

Wyn went perfectly still. The scent of a newly uncorked bottle of wine on an adjacent table, the sound of its splash into glasses, were so familiar.

“Sir, I must ask you to explain yourself, if you will.”

“And see there.” The scowl on her brother’s face deepened. “That’s precisely why I’ve got to have my say. If you sincerely wanted her, what I just said should have you throwing down your gauntlet. But you didn’t even blink. You’re an awfully cool character, Yale, like that night of Blackwood’s wedding when you left my sister crying on the terrace at Savege Park.”

At
Savege Park
?

Lucas nodded, confidence suffusing his features. “I saw how you had her alone out there in the dark, with her face all blotched and wet. She wasn’t even sixteen, for God’s sake. Lucky you stopped teasing her when you did. I nearly went out there and corked you, but I’d a lady I couldn’t leave in the middle of the set. But my sister’s eyes were red all night after that, you scoundrel.”

Finally Wyn found his tongue. “Lucas—”

“I won’t spare words, sir, no matter how you’re welcome in Savege’s house. I don’t trust you. Haven’t since that night. And I saw how she looked tonight when the two of you were talking, like she wanted to blubber again. Then I lost the pair of you only to find her running in from Lady B’s garden looking as agitated as I’ve ever seen her. Damn you, Yale, it ain’t right to treat a lady like that.”

“You mistake matters, sir.”

Lucas puffed out his chest. “I don’t think I do, and I won’t have you teasing her again. She’s had a hard time of it, what with my—our mother—” He stuttered to a halt. “Thing is, she needs my consent to wed, and I won’t give her to you.”

“Do her wishes have no relevance?”

“She’s an impetuous girl. But she’s a good sort who’d do anything for someone she likes. Loyal as a hound, don’t you know.” His words came thickly now; he cared for her greatly, Wyn could see. “She deserves a better fellow than one who’d press his attentions on an awkward, unattractive girl those years ago. Now that she’s looking better I still won’t have it.”

Apparently Lucas had not seen the boys on the terrace the night of that ball. But it didn’t matter. Now she was in far greater danger than anything that had come before, and this time he was in fact the cause of it.

“I see,” he said, his thoughts sliding together with a peculiarly cool clarity, a solution tugging at him, aligning the pieces. “She has a mind of her own. But no doubt you already know that.”

“Don’t I! She’s headstrong and reckless and she’s never been any different. But that don’t mean she’s got to settle for a fellow like you.”

“Lucas.” Wyn lowered his voice. “Your sister has one wish, and you, I believe, are the only man able to fulfill it.”

Sir Tracy’s bright blue eyes widened. “What are you—”

“You know where Lady Carlyle is now. Do you not?”

Lucas gaped, then spluttered. “Well I don’t rightly—”

“I believe you do. I have reason to believe that your mother is in London for a short while and that she sent word to you recently requesting financial assistance in a business venture.” In the Secret Office that afternoon he’d read dozens upon dozens of letters before he’d come across the note at the end of one informant’s report, identifying the baroness as one of several persons seeking investors to fund a ring of high-end prostitution. The informant had noted that the baroness seemed to be an avid opium smoker, allied to her partner—a City man—to feed her addiction but otherwise living modestly, and of little concern to government now. It was suspected that she and her partner intended to return their business to France. “Have you seen her?”

“I have. Only the once,” Lucas admitted roughly. “But how would you know about her unless you had something to do with that all?”

“I don’t. I don’t even know where she is in London, which is why I need your help.”

“
My
help? Of all the—”

“Be quiet, Lucas. And listen to me now.”

Lucas’s brows shot up beneath his thatch of gold curls.

“Your sister wishes to see her mother. It is her most cherished desire.”

Sir Tracy frowned. “She told me that the other day. Told me a few times before too,” he added reluctantly. “But she don’t understand.”

“She does understand. And you must allow it. You must arrange a meeting between them in a secure location so that your sister’s safety will not be in jeopardy. Can you do that before your mother departs for the Continent?”

“No.” His jaw turned mulish. “If you know what my mother is now you’ll know that a girl like my sister shouldn’t be exposed to that sort of business.”

“Your sister is not a girl. She is a woman. And she already knows your mother’s business.”

Lucas’s shoulders fell. “She—”

“She is headstrong and reckless, but she is also resourceful and uncannily wise.” And beautiful and generous-hearted and she drove him insane with wanting her, and with his next words he was giving her away. “Tomorrow I will call upon her and ask for her hand, and she will accept me—”

Lucas’s mouth shot open. “Y—”

“—unless you promise me that you will take her to see Lady Carlyle before she leaves London.”

Sir Tracy’s brow furrowed. “And if I make that promise?”

“I will make certain that after I call on her tomorrow she will be as convinced as you are that I am not the man for her. Quite soundly convinced.” His gut was hollow, his pulse erratic, and his lungs seemed to have relinquished their will to function. If this was how it finally felt to be a real hero, heroism could go to the dogs.

Lucas peered at him with wary eyes. “And I suppose you expect to attend this interview too. To make certain I don’t renege.”

“I am a man of my word, Lucas. I will pay you the compliment of believing you are as well.”

“Pretty phrases, Yale. But I’m no blushing virgin to be bamboozled.”

Wyn had never imagined that learning his great-aunt’s lessons so well would bring him to this. “Then believe this: I could not remain for the interview even if I wished it. I must leave town early tomorrow and haven’t an idea of when I will return.” But after the morning, Yarmouth’s man in Savege’s house would have no doubt that Diantha meant more to him than mere sport. Even before Wyn reached Yarmouth, she would be safe.

“No.” Lucas shook his head. “She’s tenacious. Why, just look at her with my mother! If she wants you she’ll stick, whether you like it or not.”

“Not after this. I assure you.”

Lucas seemed to consider. His eyes narrowed. “Permanently? No making it up to her the day after?”

“Nor next week, nor next month. I give you my word. As a gentleman.”

It was with a sick sort of relief sliding through him that he watched Lucas nod, at first tentatively, then with greater conviction.

“All right,” he finally said. “Do I have your word, Yale?”

“You have it.” Just as a lady with lapis eyes had the rest of him.