Alaric was whistling under his breath as he descended the crooked and none too sturdy stairs of the small rooming house that had been his murdered bride’s only shelter.
Chapter Six
Willa went down to dinner in her borrowed finery. Her own wardrobe was fairly meager. As Effie had a better relationship with her father and her family, it necessitated the need for gowns that would suit the hallowed halls of Heathcote Grange, her father’s home. With some hasty alterations, several of her gowns had been made over for Willa so that no one seeing her on the arm of Lord Deveril would label her an opportunist. While the gown was beautiful, it was more revealing than Willa was used to. Being of a slightly plumper figure than Effie, there was a great deal more décolletage on display. Of course, she had no intention of being seen by anyone other than Lord Deveril and his aunt. And he looked at her as if he knew what lay hidden beneath her clothes anyway.
As she neared the drawing room, she could hear Lady Carringden talking. Unless the woman was talking to herself, which was distinctly possible, it meant Lord Deveril was with her. Bracing herself to face him in a gown that, to her modest sensibilities, bordered on indecent, Willa took a steadying breath.
The footman opened the door for her and she stepped inside the very same room where she’d first encountered Lord Deveril. As if mocking her, he leaned nonchalantly against a pillar that flanked the Titian she’d so admired. A slow smile spread over his face as she entered and his gaze traveled over her, pausing strategically at the parts of her that were spilling out of her borrowed gown.
“There she is, my lovely betrothed,” he said. “I was just telling my dear aunt what a lover of art you are. You’re familiar with Titian, aren’t you?”
“I’ve seen a few of his works, but I am hardly an expert,” she said. “But the one you’re standing next to is lovely.”
“So it is,” he said. “There’s a lovely Rubens in the gallery upstairs. I’ll show you after dinner, if you like.”
Willa smiled noncommittally. “Perhaps Lady Carringden, you can join us? I’m certain you’d have delightful insights regarding the works of such a renowned artist!”
Lady Carringden laughed. It was a hard and brittle sound, typical of society women. A bit too loud, without any hint of real feeling or emotion in it, like tinkling shards of glass. “Oh, my! I do believe that she is wary of your intentions, Douglas! How delightfully wise you are, my dear! But alas, as an engaged couple, I think it behooves you to have a bit of time to get to know one another without me hanging on your every words. You should go with him after dinner to the gallery. And you should stay precisely ten minutes. I will be timing you. And alas, as fond as I am of Rubens, I’d have to walk past the glowering and dour likenesses of my ancestors. Frankly, it’s not worth it. But you enjoy yourselves.”
That had not gone as planned. In maneuvering to avoid him, she now found herself stuck firmly in a trap of her own making. She was saved from commenting by the ringing of the dinner gong.
“Let Douglas escort you in, my dear. We’re dining informally tonight, and so I’ve placed you to his right and myself to his left. I know it’s a slight bending of the rules but, well, if ever there was a man who understands the bending of rules, it’s your betrothed!” Lady Carringden offered with false cheer. “Tell me, dear, how precisely did the two of you meet?”
“We were introduced by a mutual friend, Aunt, and I was taken with Miss Marks instantaneously,” Lord Deveril said as he appeared at her side, offering his arm for her.
Reluctantly, Willa accepted it. As she placed her hand on his arm, she could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his coat. Standing next to him, she felt dwarfed by his height, by the breadth of his shoulders. He smelled faintly of sandalwood with a hint of brandy and something else that was just him. It was an enticing scent, one that reminded her of all the many reasons why it was a terrible idea for her to be there, in such dangerously close proximity to him. He represented temptation and, with it, all the fear of consequences. He wouldn’t have to ruin her. She might very well ruin herself for him, and then where would she be?
“I do not bite,” he whispered close to her ear. “Not over much at any rate.”
“You do not behave either. Not over much at any rate,” she retorted.
“Aunt Jeannette,” he said, “Go on ahead and we’ll join you shortly.”
She looked at them with slightly raised eyebrows, but nodded. “Of course. I’ll await you in the drawing room.”
When Lady Carringden had gone, Willa stood there at his side. “What is it that you wish to say, Lord Deveril?”
He looked at her for a long moment and then, with a seriousness she had not expected from him, said, “I’ve no designs on your virtue, Miss Marks. I’m not a ravening beast or a monster. I’ve never resorted to forcing myself on women, and I have no intention of doing so now. Regardless of the rumors you’ve heard, I’m not without honor, and you’ve no reason to fear me,” he said.
It was, perhaps, the first time in their short acquaintance that he’d not been flippant or sarcastic. He spoke that vow, for it could be nothing less, with complete sincerity. It disarmed her, and Willa wasn’t certain what to say. “I did not mean to give you offense on that score, my lord. I certainly would never presume—”
“But you have presumed, Miss Marks. And given my reputation, I cannot even say that I blame you for such presumptions. But the truth is, all you know is my reputation, and my reputation is not based entirely in truth. Right now, I need you here. I need your help so that Marina might have a chance at… I won’t even say a normal life. But so that she might be able to have some happiness, some peace in life. That is my wish above all things,” he said firmly.
“Why?” The word slipped out before she could stop herself.
“What do you mean why?” Deveril demanded. “Why wouldn’t I wish for those things?”
Willa shook her head. “It isn’t that you wouldn’t wish it, my lord. It’s simply that in my experience most men, especially gentlemen, cannot be bothered to expend effort on their own children, much less the children of others.”
“Then Marina is not the only one who is burdened by the ugliness she has witnessed of the world thus far. I am saddened for you, Miss Marks.”
Uncomfortable with both his scrutiny and his pity, Willa turned to face the dining room doors. “We should go in. Your aunt will be wondering what is keeping us,” she said softly.
“Hardly. She’s probably managed to nab some of the silver and tuck it into her reticule, Miss Marks. About my aunt… she is as respectable a woman as ever lived, in the eyes of society. But my family is not close, or even remotely caring. She is here for payment and not for duty or any familial obligation. To that end, be careful of her, Miss Marks.”
While she hadn’t known the truth in its entirety, she’d certainly gleaned that Lady Carringden appeared to be somewhat self-serving. “Certainly, Lord Deveril. I shall exercise caution in all things.”
“Let us go then.”
*
Devil escorted Miss Marks to her chair and then moved to take his own seat at the head of the table. Had she really known so few decent men in her life that even the idea that he could have a child’s best interest at heart was alien to her? Not that he would have ever considered himself to be a decent man. But he wasn’t a monster. Marina was his niece, his blood. She was the only daughter of his beloved sister who had pleaded, with her dying breath no less, for him to care for the child. Could any man refuse?
Sadly, the answer was yes. Many could and many did. His own father had. The man had turned him out for his scandalous antics and sent him off to India where he might have been killed in battle or died of some wretched disease. For poor Alice, it had been worse. She’d been cast out into the streets, abandoned by everyone she had ever known. Banished to the slums, forced to do heaven knew what to survive, and all because she’d loved unwisely. Because she’d had the misfortune to love unwisely, she
’d lost everything, even the love she’d made such a sacrifice for. Indeed, her lover had been nowhere to be found while she lay dying of a terrible fever. Of course, he supposed that it hadn’t really been love at all.
He glanced at Miss Marks once more. Where would she have been if not for the Darrow School? Would she have met a similar fate to Alice? It was impossible to say. A part of him thought not, thought that she was stronger than that. But then, who was he to judge anyone’s strength when they were starving in the streets and had to use any resource at their disposal to survive?
Shaking his head slightly to clear it of such unpleasant thoughts, he waited for the first course to be served. He blamed his rather uncomfortable thoughts on his recent foray into sobriety. But that had been his bargain with Miss Marks, and he would keep to it, even if it did give him a very bleak outlook on life.
The butler appeared with a bottle of wine, but Devil shook his head. “I’m refraining, Carlton. By all means, serve Miss Marks and Lady Carringden.”
Devil felt Miss Marks’ gaze on him and glanced up, meeting those sharp green eyes and allowing his own to lock with them for a moment. It wasn’t condemnation or even curiosity he saw there. It was grudging respect. It was something he’d had very few occasions in his life to experience. Somehow, from her, it was even more significant.
It was that thought, more than anything else, that made him realize just how dangerous Miss Marks was. There was something about her that was altering him. Or perhaps, her presence was prompting him to alter himself. Dangerous.
Chapter Seven
The park was crowded in the early hours of the morning. Ladies were strolling on the arms of their suitors under the sharp-eyed gazes of their chaperones. It would have been a gross exaggeration to say that she’d taken Marina on an outing. The simple fact was that she’d invited herself along on an outing that Marina was having with Mrs. Farrelly. The cook had made it a point to bring the child to the park daily for fresh air whenever the weather permitted. It was an escape from the house, an escape from the tension that always seemed to develop whenever she was in Lord Deveril’s presence. His teasing and flirting were bad enough; worse was the fact that she’d glimpsed something in him the night before—something fine and noble. There was honor in him, perhaps far more than even he realized. If he were truly just a wastrel and womanizer, she’d see past his fallen angel appearance quickly enough. But that other side of him made him truly dangerous to her.
Keeping back several paces, Willa was lost in thought as she walked behind them. Still, she was aware of the interplay between the cook and her charge. Marina didn’t speak, but Mrs. Farrelly did. She pointed to flowers and named them for the child, she pointed to horses and to pretty birds, to random squirrels and even a few dogs that people had accompanying them as they took their morning walks. Occasionally, Marina would glance behind her as if to make sure that Willa still followed. The girl was intrigued by her. It was her curiosity that would eventually force her to open up. At least, Wilhelmina hoped it would. In truth, she’d never encountered another child troubled in quite the same way that Marina was. It was all simply a guess, really.
For the first time, Willa worried that perhaps she’d overestimated her abilities. Marina was a stubborn child, willful. She actually admired that in the girl. It might have been conceit or pride since it was a trait she possessed herself in rather shocking abundance. She certainly hadn’t experienced quite the same degree of trauma that Marina had at such a young age, but she could certainly empathize. Her own mother had not died, but she had deposited Wilhelmina in the arms of her very negligent and absent father and simply walked away. Painful as it had been at the time, and as disinterested in her as her father had been, it had ultimately been for the best. It was that very decision that had set her course so it might one day intersect with Euphemia Darrow’s. Conceit and pride notwithstanding, she hoped one day that her charges might think of her as she did of Euphemia—with deference and respect and with no small amount of affection. Effie was her family, the only one she had ever known.
Musing on that for a moment, Willa surveyed their surroundings. A man standing near a copse of trees that nestled next to a curve in the path gave her pause. There was nothing furtive in his actions. He made no attempt to conceal himself, nor was his manner threatening. He simply stood there. But it was the intensity of his regard, the way he simply stared at them that took her aback. He looked at Marina briefly, then at Mrs. Farrelly, and then at her. It was as if he were taking their measure, though for what she could not begin to imagine.
Unnerved by his presence, Wilhelmina asked, “Mrs. Farrelly, do you know that man?”
Mrs. Farrelly glanced up from where she’d been chatting with Marina and looked about curiously. “That man over there? No, Miss! I can’t say I’ve ever seen him before… I can say I don’t much like the looks of him.”
“On that point, we are in agreement.” Willa uttered the words without ever taking her eyes off him. “We should go the other way.”
“Aye, Miss. We should at that.”
At that point, Marina turned to look back at Willa but, as she did, the child caught sight of the man in question. The girl’s eyes widened. Then a blood curdling scream escaped her. It went on and on, the sound of it deafening. But Marina wasn’t looking back at her or even Mrs. Farrelly. Her gaze was locked on the strange man. And Willa realized something. It wasn’t a tantrum. It was fear. She could see it on the child’s face.
Willa looked up and saw that the man had stepped forward, moving toward them with an expression of cold determination. Knowing that Mrs. Farrelly was the slower of the two of them, Willa didn’t hesitate. She swept the little girl up into her arms and turned away, moving as quickly as possible toward the gate that would set them out of the park almost directly across the street from Lord Deveril’s townhouse. She could hear Mrs. Farrelly huffing and puffing behind her, but she didn’t look back. She dared not to, not until they reached the front door of Lord Deveril’s townhome. Only then did Willa spare a glance behind her. The man was standing there at the entrance to the park that faced the house, watching them as intently as before. Willa grasped the knocker and let it bang against the plate with far more force than was necessary. She kept her gaze locked on their pursuer until she felt the door open behind her and quickly ducked into the house.
Perhaps it had been an overreaction. But she’d rather be safe than sorry, and she wouldn’t take unnecessary risks with Marina. Sinking to her knees in the foyer, Willa struggled to catch her breath. Hauling a sizable three year old through the park, across the busy street, and up the steps, all when her stays were too tightly laced for vanity’s sake, had left her breathless. Mrs. Farrelly was right on her heels, and the cook slammed the door behind them. The sound of the woman’s ragged breathing filled the expansive space of the foyer.
The butler stared at them in confusion. Doors opened down the corridor. Lady Carringden appeared in one and Lord Deveril in another.
Lady Carringden drew one hand to her chest as she stared at them with concern. “Whatever has happened, my dear?”
“Yes,” Lord Deveril seconded. “What has happened?”
“There was a man in the park… watching us. He made me very uncomfortable and then when Marina saw him—” Willa broke off. “I think he is known to her, and I’m also fairly certain that she’s terrified of him.”
*
Devil took in Miss Marks’ ashen face as she struggled under the child’s weight. The fact that poor Mrs. Farrelly seemed to be on the verge of some sort of seizure of the heart, and that Marina, screaming as she was, appeared to be just as Miss Marks’ had described her. Terrified. The little girl was wild eyed and clinging to her governess. That she was clinging to Miss Marks rather than Mrs. Farrelly was the very thing that had first caught his attention.
“Marina allowed you to hold her rather than Mrs. Farrelly?” he questioned.
Miss Marks’ sheepish expression gave away
her answer. “I am afraid I didn’t give her an alternative. When I saw him lurking in the shrubbery at the park, watching us, I simply snatched her up and ran.”
Devil noted the way Miss Marks held the child—tenderly, protectively, fiercely. He had little doubt that she would have done battle for Marina had it come to it. On the one hand, he was thankful she was so ready and able to defend Marina with such ferocity. On the other hand, it terrified him. If the man had posed a genuine threat to them, what might have occurred?
“Did this man say anything to you?” Lady Carringden asked, her tone just shy of censorious. It was clear that she thought them hysterical and reactive.
“No, my lady,” Mrs. Farrelly replied. “He just stood there, lurking in the trees and watching the wee one in a way that—well, suffice to say, I can’t think he’d have had anything but wicked intentions.”
And Marina could tell them nothing. Or if she could, she would not. He wasn’t monstrous enough to attempt to interrogate her. Given that she was already terrified of him, it would hardly help his case with her. But he could go to the park and see if the man was still lingering.
“He followed us,” Miss Marks said, and her gaze was locked on Lady Carringden, challenge in her eyes. “When I looked back as we reached the door, he was standing at the gate of the park facing the house and was still watching us. I’ve no doubt that he was there and waiting for us. Had we been less vigilant, I cannot think what might have happened.”
“What did he look like?” Devil asked.
Willa sighed, “He was tall, nearly as tall as you. He had dark hair and was rather handsome… but he looks dishonest.”
“How does one look dishonest?” Lady Carringden scoffed. “Really, Miss Marks! It’s likely nothing more than hysterics on your part!”
A Rogue to Remember Page 5