A Lady’s Luck: Devilish Lords #4

by Maggie Dallen

  Lizzie turned to look at her husband, who’d let out a monstrous snore from where he lay sprawled in his chair. “I suppose,” she said. “But that was not the case at the time.”

  He straightened, his gaze focused on his sister, who no longer seemed to care about the topic of Lady Henrietta. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What was not the case at the time?”

  “Her wealth,” she said, standing gracefully. “According to gossip, she and her brother were left in financial straits when her parents passed.” Alistair stared after her as she rang for a servant. “But of course her brother turned all that around,” she said.

  Her brother. He tried his best to imagine that dullard Braxton using his brains to turn around his family’s fortune.

  “The guests will be arriving any moment, dear,” his sister said as she roused her husband. He came awake with a snort and a grunt. Alistair watched the domestic scene before him, but his mind was racing to connect the pieces of the puzzle that was Lady Henrietta. He’d underestimated her. That much was clear. She was no bored spinster looking to create mischief for no good reason. She was building a fortune.

  “Alistair, are you quite all right?” His brother-in-law peered over at him as he blinked himself awake. “You look ill.”

  He grinned. “I am quite all right, thank you, Percival.”

  But he was not all right. He was an idiot. This situation was so much worse than he’d feared. For if this lady made it her mission to suss out secrets and manipulate rumors for profit, she would stop at nothing to unearth his hidden agenda. That he could not allow at any cost. It was not only his name at stake, it was his family. It was his brother’s life and livelihood, and it was all the people they worked to support.

  “I was just thinking,” he said, his tone filled with a feigned casualness that was difficult to maintain. Lizzie looked back to him expectantly. “I do pity poor Lady Henrietta,” he said.

  Lizzie nodded. “Such a lovely, refined lady who deserves to have a family of her own.”

  His chest tightened painfully at the sudden, vivid image of Henrietta with a babe in her arms, laughter in her eyes, and joy in her mesmerizing smile. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should help her.”

  Lizzie clapped her hands together. “That is a marvelous idea. What did you have in mind?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps we can let it be known that those malicious rumors were unfounded. She’s likely too shy to let it be known that she is seeking a husband.”

  “And the poor dear has no mother or aunts to speak on her behalf.” Lizzie clutched a hand to her heart and Alistair knew his job here was done. By the end of this evening, Lady Henrietta would have her hands too full with suitors to pay him any mind.

  Chapter Three

  Henrietta’s worst nightmare had come to life. Her smile felt brittle and forced after an evening of entertaining the most aggressive and persistent bachelors of the ton. All except for one.

  “My, but you are popular this evening,” Mary said when she was once more deposited at her friend’s side.

  Henrietta fanned herself, hiding her irritation at this newfound popularity and to cool herself after yet another set dancing. “That viscount is entirely too persistent,” she said.

  Mary laughed. “Whatever perfume you are wearing, I would like to borrow it.”

  Henrietta felt a smile tugging at her lips. “You are hardly lacking for dance partners, dear.”

  Mary sighed. “Yes, but not one who makes my heart flutter with excitement.”

  She stared at her friend. “Is that what you want? A heart flutter? That sounds like it could be dangerous to your health.”

  Mary laughed again. “Oh Henri, how are you even less of a romantic than I am?”

  “More experience to draw from,” she said. “One of the many benefits of being older.”

  Mary let out an unladylike snort of amusement. “You make it sound like you are an old lady. You are hardly on the shelf, as the gentlemen here this evening seem to realize.”

  Henri scowled at her friend. It was true. At first she’d thought she’d been imagining it, but as the night progressed there was no denying something had changed. She’d been the object of attention for every eligible bachelor in attendance. Her gaze moved over the crowd—all except one.

  There he was, on the other side of the ballroom, speaking with his sister and a lady she recognized but did not know well. Lady Penelope. Henri frowned at the sight of the pretty young lady. She’d be an excellent match for the earl, as her mother no doubt knew. Her mother hovered behind them looking insufferably smug. Yes, that mother knew exactly how well the two would suit each other. But then again, she’d bet all the money she had neither Lady Penelope nor her mother knew the full truth about the man who was Alistair Merrywether, Earl of Colefax.

  At that moment, Alistair turned his head and his gaze clashed with hers, making her heart leap in her chest. His stare had locked on her as though he’d felt her scrutiny, or as though he could sense her presence across the room. There was that fluttering feeling Mary had mentioned. That was nothing more than nerves at work. It was the thrill of the hunt. She smiled at the thought and watched his eyes narrow in return. So much was conveyed without either of them saying a word.

  “Who are you staring at?” Mary asked. And then added, “Oh. I see.”

  She most definitely did not see, despite her knowing tone. The silly girl likely thought she was enamored of the mysterious earl. Mary had teased Henrietta to no end after he’d left their home the other week. She’d gone along to visit the earl’s sister, Lizzie, willingly enough, but it hadn’t escaped Mary’s attention through all the endless chatter that she’d managed to glean quite a bit of information about Alistair. Poor Mary thought it was all in the name of love.

  Henri had learned nothing of consequence, necessarily, but enough for her to start digging in earnest. She had gleaned the location of their family home where they were raised, the name of their neighbors, the names of the servants, and more, from Lizzie. Nothing to arouse suspicion unduly, but enough. More than enough to get started.

  She turned to give Mary a withering glare that only made her young friend laugh. When she turned back, Alistair’s gaze was no longer on her. He whispered something to his sister and then he backed away. He was heading her way.

  She tried not to fidget. It took all of her focus, but she kept her hands still and forced her breathing to remain even. She managed to make some useless chit-chat with Mary and her friend Georgie, the Duchess of Roxborough, who had come to join them. All the while, she was aware of Alistair making his way toward her in the crowd.

  When he reached her side, she was ready for him. “Good evening, my lord,” she said sweetly, with a smile that bordered on simpering. Let him think he had won their battle. Let him think her chastened and beaten. It was all the better for her mission.

  She did not yet know for certain what the earl was hiding, but there was no doubt he had secrets. The more she dug, the clearer it became that he was frequently not where he was supposed to be. He traveled extensively, but his actual whereabouts were vague, if known at all.

  The reason for all this travel was consistently chalked up to business. But once again, when prodded it became clear that his friends, family, and associates all seemed rather hazy on the details of this important business that had him traveling to and fro.

  His family was involved in shipping, that much she had gathered, but once again the details were shrouded in mystery.

  For a man she’d long thought to be profoundly boring, he was proving to be more and more of a mystery with each new revelation…or lack thereof.

  The mystery man in question now bowed over her hand without a word, and when he stood his answering grin was wicked. There was no other word for it. Suspicion made her belly tighten, and curiosity made her breath hitch in her throat as she beheld gleam in his eyes.

  “How are you enjoying your evening?” he asked.

  She
narrowed her eyes slightly at the amusement in his tone. His expectant pause, the way he leaned in toward her—all of it put her on edge. What was he about? He was up to something and she needed to know what it was like she needed air to breathe. The thought prompted an idea she acted on before she thought it through. “I need air.”

  Mary turned toward her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, fanning herself more vigorously. For such a brisk evening, the ballroom was stiflingly hot. Too many bodies crammed together while dancing tended to have that effect. She glanced up at the earl through her lashes. “Would you be so kind as to escort me to the balcony?”

  His lips twitched with mirth as he bent his head and held out his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”

  He led her through the crowd in silence and she waited until they were in the doorway, well within view of the partygoers before speaking. “You seem pleased with yourself.”

  He tipped his head back with a low laugh that made her insides squirm with delight and wariness. Was there a word for that particular mix of sensations? If not, someone should invent one, and it should be coined after the spirit of this man. A man who was so proper he was tedious—except that he wasn’t. He was a mystery, and there was little she loved more than a mystery.

  When his laughter faded, he met her gaze, but a self-satisfied smile still lingered. “And you,” he said slowly. “You do not beat about the bush, do you?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “I am afraid not.” That was a bit of a lie. “Not, at least, when we can be plain with one another.”

  He leaned in slightly, and his scent made her dizzy. If male heat and magnetism could be put into a cologne, this scent was surely it. “Tell me,” he said softly. “Do you believe we share that sort of intimacy?”

  She would not blush. There was no way she would give him the satisfaction, but her body did not listen. She felt the heat in her belly rise at the sound of his deep voice, spreading like warm honey through her limbs and up her neck. It was a cold evening, so she no longer had to feign being overheated. She bristled as his smile became a smirk.

  “On the contrary,” she said, her tone light despite the tension within her. “It is not intimacy we share.” She paused to give him a small smile of her own. “Just secrets.”

  That had the desired effect. His demeanor shifted so quickly her head spun. The quick turn from pompous dandy to dangerous opponent was further confirmation there was more to this man than he let on. There was so much more, and she aimed to find out what.

  As a rule, she tried not to show her hand too early, but Alistair was an exception in every way. The primary difference between him and her other prey was that he already knew about her hand in Rodrick’s gambling. Playing the fool would do her no good with this man.

  His eyes had turned hard and his nostrils flared as his eyes raked over her, taking in her dark blue gown and her blonde locks. “Whatever it is you think you know, you are mistaken.” She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped and blinked in surprise when he reached out and grabbed her upper arm. “You are playing a dangerous game, my lady,” he said.

  Her smile turned caustic. “That is where you are wrong, my lord.”

  He narrowed his eyes, but that only proved to her that she was on the right track. “I never play games,” she said. “This is not frivolous entertainment for me, Lord Colefax.”

  “Nor for me,” he said with a growl as he leaned down toward her until he blocked her view of the door and the night sky. “What do you want? Is it money?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Money is not the only motivation in the world. I would think you, of all people, would understand that.”

  His eyes opened wider and his lips quivered as he pressed them together in a fine line. She was playing with fire. She was toying with him, pressing for weaknesses. From what she’d gathered to date, she knew his so-called business was not the reason he traveled. It was a ruse, but for what she did not know. Perhaps he was a spy, or perhaps he ran an underground business.

  One thing she deduced, from his personality and from speaking to those who knew him best, was that he was a noble man. He gave to charities, anonymously and on behalf of his family. He was beloved in the area where he grew up because he took care of everyone. He did it all with little fuss and no boasting.

  The more she’d learned about him the more irritated she was by him. She was looking for reasons to hate him, trying to find his weaknesses. All men had them, and so must he. However, the deeper she dug, the more she had to give him her grudging respect. Damn, but it would be so much easier to stop thinking about those warm brown eyes and those ruggedly handsome features if she could turn up his deep, dark secret.

  He released her arm and took a step away. While his grip had not been rough, his hand had been strong and warm, and the loss of his touch left her feeling lonelier than she could ever have imagined. It was a new feeling, and she did not like it.

  She felt lonely while listening to the sounds of the revelers inside. Lonely, though there were others on the patio and her friends were steps inside the door, watching her. Rodrick had joined Mary and her friend, and the three of them were watching her so closely she forced a smile to go along with her wave. Nothing to see here, friends. I’m merely toying with a mystery man who could well be the devil for all I know. Though so far, he seemed more like a saint.

  “I will not threaten a lady,” he said quietly. Despite his words, his voice held a threat. Perhaps not so much a threat as a warning. “But I will not sit back and let you meddle in business that does not concern you.”

  She straightened at the condescending tone. “It might not concern me, but now it’s clear that it’s worth something to you.”

  He gritted his teeth. “I thought you said you do not want money.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “I always want money, Alistair. Money is power, but so is knowledge.”

  He did not flinch at her use of his given name. But then, he was the one who’d teased her about their level of intimacy. It was time to show this man she would not cower before him simply because he growled and made veiled threats.

  “Power,” he repeated. “Is that what this is about for you?”

  The disdain in his eyes had her shifting before him uncomfortably. Yes. The answer was yes. Money and family connections were all well and good, but true power came from intimate knowledge of each piece on the chessboard—their weaknesses and their goals. Did he not see that? Did he not see why a lady such as herself would want to be in control of her own life and destiny?

  They faced one another in taut silence, and for a moment, she found it difficult to remember he was her adversary. Like in the ballroom, there seemed to be a communication going on between them. It was a battle of wills, and a connection that was unspoken and impossible to explain.

  When he reached a hand out and his fingers gently traced her jaw, she let out a sigh. His gaze darkened and he tugged at one of her locks. He shifted toward her and she moved back. They moved seamlessly together as though they were on the dancefloor. The music started up again and several of the guests on the patio went back inside as he turned her so she was behind the open door, hidden from plain view.

  “Ladies have other ways of obtaining power over men.” His knuckles grazed her cheek, and her retort caught in her throat. His eyes were so dark, so full of promise and danger.

  “What exactly are you implying?” she managed to say as she exhaled.

  His hand dropped and his gaze turned so cold for a moment she’d thought she’d imagined the heat she’d seen there. “Marriage.”

  The word was a douse of cold water in her face and it filled her veins with ice. “Pardon me?”

  He shifted backward slightly and she could breathe again. “Marriage.” He said it so easily, so casually. “I believe it’s a common practice these days,” he said. His lips twitched upward, and despite the intimacy of their moment, despite the tension and earlier anger, she could
have sworn he was teasing her.

  She pressed her lips together as his meaning became clear. “You truly believe marrying would give me the sort of comfort and safety I require for my family?”

  He arched one brow in answer. “Would it not?”

  She swallowed down her anger, and something else. It was disappointment, perhaps. She’d thought, for whatever reason, this man knew her better. “Marriage is not in the cards for me.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Now she was certain he was teasing her. That earlier amusement was back and it set off bells of warning in the back of her mind. It also had her reevaluating this bizarre evening. Gentlemen she’d effectively turned off years ago were suddenly fawning over her with renewed vigor. That lecherous old Baron Johnson had insinuated he’d give her a second chance. She’d gagged at the thought of it. Then there was the beautiful but dim Lord Crawford, who had hounded her for a dance.

  This was not the work of a full moon, and there was certainly no special perfume as Mary had indicated. “I take it you are to thank for my sudden popularity among the more marriageable of the ton,” she said drily.

  His answering grin was wolfish and triumphant. She hated the direct effect it had on her heartbeat. She wanted to smack it from his face and kiss him until he smiled at her like that again, but for an entirely different reason, and not because he was pushing her into the arms of another man.

  “You wish to see me marry another?” She said it blandly, without emotion, and watched the sudden shift in him. The amusement was temporarily tempered by something darker and far more lethal.

  Then it was gone and he appeared as nonplussed as she. “I wish to keep you safe.”

  She let out a huff of bitter amusement. Safe in his eyes meant marrying some boring, old gentleman. That much was clear. “Are your secrets so dangerous?”

  His gaze searched her face and that was her answer. Yes. They were.