by Jaimey Grant
Gideon slouched in his seat, tipping his hat forward to shade his eyes. “They all have eminently suitable names. The brown horse is Brown, the gray horse Gray, the black horse…”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Then, “What if you have more than one color?”
“Wolf!”
Gideon pushed his hat back, meeting the younger man’s eyes. “What do you think I call them? I do have another black horse.”
Malvina opened her mouth. “Black Two.”
He smiled. “Eminently suitable.” So saying, he settled deeper into the seat and again pulled his hat down.
They reached London several days later. Settling his “almost family” into his townhouse in Berkeley Square, he left immediately, his destination Doctors Commons to procure a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. He was determined to have that situation well in hand before Deverell could make mischief. Or anyone else for that matter.
It was well he’d had the foresight to apply for a license long before. The seven day waiting period was past so he knew all he had to do was fetch it. Even Lord Byron had had to wait seven days for his special license.
He had a few more stops to make, and if all went as planned, he would be well and truly married to a beautiful creature who had far more to offer than she believed.
Malvina settled in quite well but knew she was courting disaster by staying in the home of her betrothed. She was a widow and could take advantage of more freedom but Society would only forgive so much. Thankfully, Town was rather sparse of company at the moment.
That would only last a few more weeks, Malvina thought. She wasn’t sure how long Gideon planned for their engagement to stand. If it was longer than a week or two, her reputation would be thoroughly ruined.
She sighed. Once it was known that her late husband was a traitor to the crown, her reputation would be for naught anyway.
She stood at the drawing room window, watching the traffic outside. Gideon had left as soon as they arrived, citing appointments he could not miss. Naturally, she was curious, but still felt she should keep her distance.
Wolf was out walking. She had not wanted him to go out alone as it was his first visit to London, but he had insisted, confiding that it was not his first visit.
Apparently, when he was supposed to be staying with Deveraux Ashby, heir to the Marquis of Preston, he and Deveraux had been in London learning to be men. They had spent entire holidays in Town, their parents blissfully unaware that their precious babies were trying to grow up.
Malvina did not know her son at all.
The door opened and Malvina turned. A maid entered, curtsied. “Would you care for tea, milady?”
“Yes, thank you,” she smiled.
With another curtsy, the maid left, a curious but not insolent look on her pretty features. Malvina wondered at it. The servants had been introduced upon their arrival and they had all been everything that was proper. Lady Malvina could only assume they had not heard of her husband or her lowly birth.
Turning back to the window, Malvina saw Wolf return. She could not see him well; his hat shielded much of his features from her motherly gaze. He glanced up at the window briefly and she gasped.
With one eye swollen shut, the cheek beneath cut and oozing blood, a split lip, an ugly bruise darkening his jaw, and one arm clutching the shoulder he’d already injured once, he looked like a grotesque gargoyle come to life.
A curse slipped out just as the maid returned with tea. The girl gasped, the items on her tray clattering together. The sound brought her mistress swinging round.
“Oh, Mary, you startled me.” She laughed. “I must have startled you as well. Here, you may place the tray on the table.” When the maid left, Malvina followed her out.
She met Wolf in the corridor. He ducked his head and tried to move past her.
She laid her hand on his uninjured arm. “Are you well?”
Her gentle voice belied the churning fear that consumed her. Every day that passed took her only child that much more from her; eventually, he would leave her and she was terrified she would never see him again. He was heading for a bad end, as the saying went.
Wolf smiled, an odd sort of smile filled with contentment and…life. It was not an expression she’d ever seen on his face before.
“I am well, Mother. Merely a scrap at the docks.”
“What were you doing at the docks? It’s dangerous there.”
“You don’t say?”
“Sarcasm ill becomes you, young sir.”
They turned to see the earl had returned from his errands. He handed his hat and stick to the footman. With a lazy smile, he ushered them into the drawing room, shushing Wolf when that young gentleman tried to object.
“We have several things to discuss,” Gideon told them.
He solicitously seated Malvina, then turned to Wolf. “What is the extent of your injuries?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “My shoulder is worse but I think a few ribs are broken, as well.”
“May I?”
Wolf nodded, straightening his arm to allow the earl to poke and prod at him. Gideon was pleased to note the injuries were mostly superficial. “We need to bind your ribs. Who rescued you?”
The younger man frowned. “Why do you assume I was rescued?”
His query met with silence. Then, “Who?”
“Some stranger in black.”
Gideon had been about to turn away but something in Wolf’s tone stopped him. “Black?”
“Oddest fellow. His clothes were black but so was his hair. He jumped right in and pummeled two of the three nearly to death. I managed to take the third out and the fourth ran off. It was glorious!”
“Glorious?” Malvina whispered, her face unnaturally white. “Glorious!”
The gentlemen had forgotten her presence. Wolf flushed and Gideon cursed, but Malvina ignored that. Rising, she rounded on her son.
“You were beaten nearly to death and all you can do is praise some ruffian and call it all glorious?”
A snicker from Gideon attracted her fulminating glare. “What is so funny?”
He rubbed his finger along his eye. “Hart would enjoy being called a ruffian, I think.” His lips twitched suspiciously but he didn’t laugh again.
“Hart?”
“Hartley St. Clair, Duke of Derringer, Lord Heartless. I think I have even heard him called the Devil Incarnate but I don’t give that rumor much credence.”
Wolf’s expression turned to one of awe, reminding his companions that, appearances to the contrary, he was still little more than a child.
“The Duke of Derringer? Truly? How do you know?”
Gideon snorted and moved to Malvina’s side. “He never really was in any real danger, my love. If it was indeed Derringer, he was there the entire time. He would never have allowed Wolf to be seriously hurt.”
She allowed the earl to help her back to her seat but she was not so easily cajoled out of her indignation. “Why would he not?”
Gideon sat beside her and took her hand. “He would know who Wolf was the moment the boy stepped into view. There is nothing Hart does not know or quickly discover. He will know the answer to my question, I’m sure.”
“How do you find him?”
Gideon looked at the young baronet with a measuring glance. “I do believe you are the answer to that very question, my lad. We will use you as bait.”
Malvina’s fingers tightened on his. “Bait?”
“Calm, love. He’ll not be injured again. Wolf will merely serve to bring the elusive duke out of hiding.”
“Do you suspect him of treason?” Malvina asked.
“Good Lord, no! Whatever gave you that idea?”
Her forehead creased. “Why is he in hiding and behaving so oddly if he is not involved in something nefarious?”
“Oh, I am sure his activities are nefarious but never treasonous,” Gideon told her on a laugh. “As for his reasons for playing at
villain, he is most likely bored. He finds the duties of the duchy tedious in the extreme.”
“I am not sure I want my son associating with such a man,” Malvina ventured, still frowning.
The gentlemen in her life gave her such a look of disgust that she felt the color rising in her cheeks. “Why do you look so? Is it not normal for a mother to desire her son to form healthy connections?”
“Hart did save his life,” Gideon pointed out reasonably. “I would not think there could be anything better said in his favor.”
She had to allow that. However, “Wolf should not have been at the docks in the first place.”
“I am still present,” said that young man, annoyed.
A lazy grin touched Gideon’s lips. “So you are. Fancy that.” He promptly ignored him again, turning back to the boy’s mother. “The bottom line is, Hart can point me in the right direction to uncovering the truth of your husband’s involvement with Deverell.” He paused, his deep thoughts mirrored in his eyes. “He always said, even in school, that Deverell was no good.”
Malvina shook her head and turned her pale green eyes on her son, “Go make yourself presentable, Wolf. I need to speak with Gideon.”
The boy hesitated but after a bland look from the earl, he snorted and left, without so much as a bow for his mother.
“Thoughtless,” murmured Gideon to no one in particular. “Do you feel up to socializing this week?”
Malvina glanced at the tea things and offered to send for more, assuming correctly that it was less than lukewarm. Gideon rang the bellpull and returned to her side, taking her hand again in a clasp that was casual and possessive all at once.
Staring at their linked hands, Malvina felt unaccountable tears come to her eyes and wondered if she was sickening for something. Since she had met Gideon, her feelings had been in an uproar. Nothing made sense anymore, which wasn’t saying much considering her life had always been rather dramatic. Being married to a man who was constantly involving himself in matters he shouldn’t had lent a flair to her life that she hadn’t appreciated. Would marrying a spy-hunting earl make things any better?
Deep down, Malvina craved peace. She wanted the most exciting thing in her life to be which bonnet to wear with which pelisse. Or how much money was required to install a new closed range in the kitchen. Wondering if her son would be killed wandering London’s East End or her betrothed would be shot while unraveling a conspiracy against the crown or her late husband would be revealed as a traitor was not a pleasant feeling.
A maid entered with all the efficiency of a well-trained servant and was bidden to fetch new tea. Seconds after arriving, she was gone again.
Pushing aside her morose longings, Malvina focused her thoughts on the topic introduced. “Where did you desire to go?” she asked, referring to his earlier question.
“Only to the theater,” he said. Letting go of her hand, he moved his arm and rested it along the sofa back. “There is a pretty bird there who I am told is worth seeing.” He reached out with his free hand and fingered a curl near her cheek, his eyes roving over her face like a caress.
She wanted to ask who the pretty bird was but the chills she felt down her spine prevented speech. Why did a fleeting touch of his fingers cause such odd sensations?
“We have not discussed our upcoming nuptials,” he said, his warm breath on her cheek.
She turned to look at him. She realized her mistake almost immediately. His lips were mere inches from hers and closing in.
Malvina knew she should move. She did not want him to kiss her. She did not want to feel this fluttery feeling, this excited anticipation and longing for something she should not desire. She should not desire this man with the piercing, revealing gaze who was four years her junior. It was not right.
She didn’t move. The hand by her cheek moved around her neck and drew her closer. He paused there to say, “We marry tonight.” He kissed her before she could breathe, let alone speak.
The rush of emotion that went through Malvina in that moment was indescribable. Shock, excitement, anger, fear, and pure unadulterated lust were only a few. Her brain could not select just one to feel so she continued to feel them all.
Until her undeniable attraction to the man in her arms took over. Her hands slid up over his shoulders and into his dark blond hair as she kissed him back, putting all that she had into the embrace, and for the first time in her life, she felt hope.
And she cried. The tears squeezed through her eyelids, slowly, calmly, as if she were not overcome with emotion at all.
Lord Holt shifted, his hands framing her face, a look of tender concern and a little bit of chagrin on his handsome features. “That was not the reaction, or the reply, I was hoping for, my love.”
His thumbs brushed away the tears and Malvina’s control returned. She sniffled, accepting the handkerchief thrust under her nose.
Mopping her face, she said pertly, “I was not aware I had a choice.”
He smoothed a few dark red strands of silky hair back from her face. “No, perhaps you don’t.”
Malvina shook her head. “I was married once to a man who could not love me. I’ll not do that again.”
“Brackney was a fool.”
Hardly daring to believe the words she’d just heard, she opened her mouth to demand an explanation. The opening of the door forestalled her words, revealing the tea tray and Wolf.
He gave them a look of patent disgust, their position next to each other rather self-explanatory. “Tea is here,” he said unnecessarily, gesturing to the tea things as if they were the ones to have offended his young sensibilities.
Malvina poured, pondering all that had happened while listening to the two most important people in her life speak of matters she’d rather know nothing about. She did not want to hear them make plans to bring the Duke of Derringer out of hiding. Even if the man had saved Wolf, he was quite obviously attics to let and therefore, dangerous.
A sharp bark of dark laughter ripped her from her musings. Looking to the door, she saw a filthy, ragged beast of a man filling the portal. Her face flamed. She had not realized she’d spoken aloud. “I am sorry. That was dreadfully rude.”
The gentlemen rose slowly to their feet, as if unable to believe the sight that met their eyes. Wolf stepped forward, suddenly all eagerness to officially meet the infamous “Lord Heartless.”
“You were simply marvelous, sir. Bloody damn magnificent! Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“Language,” the dirty man muttered. Glancing at Gideon, he asked, “Who is the puppy, Witless?”
Gideon’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “I did ask you once to remind me to call you out, did I not? Reminder taken. It will have to be next week, however. I am getting married tonight.”
A lascivious grin turned the other man’s face into something Malvina found to be quite unnerving. She suppressed a shudder.
Their visitor gave her a cursory glance, saying rather perfunctorily, “Congratulations. A lusty wench, I’m sure.”
Jamieson, Holt’s butler in London, entered just after the duke, his face flushed with anxiety. “I beg your pardon, milord, but this person simply walked past as if he lives here.”
“Where are you staying?” the earl asked rhetorically, waving off the concern of Jamieson. When that faithful retainer hesitated, Lord Holt told him patiently, “You are commended for not setting the footmen on him. I do hate how blood stains.”
On that cryptic remark, Jamieson fled.
Gideon gestured for the duke to enter, saying, “A word of caution: You may call me what you will, Hart, but one thing inappropriate or insulting to Lady Malvina and I will kill you where you stand.”
Malvina was on her feet before she’d realized that she’d moved. “Violence is unnecessary, my lords, truly.” Turning, she bid the duke to join them for tea. “You are Lord Derringer, I believe. I must say I am pleased you have suddenly appeared. Now Wolf will not have to lure you out.”
Her ingenuous remark was met with another sharp laugh. He moved further into the room, looking her up and down with a glance that was both insolent and insulting. He glanced at Lord Holt before favoring her with a wholly inappropriate leer.
Malvina laughed. She was not sure why, but something in the duke’s actions reminded her greatly of a boy provoking a response from a rival. It warmed her heart in an odd sort of way. She had seen her son and his friend Deveraux act in just such a manner.
“Oh, I take it all back, Witless.” Bowing before Malvina, Derringer added, “If I were not so hellbent on bachelorhood, I would steal you away.”
Something in Malvina clenched. This man was not at all what she would want in a husband. And yet…
And yet, there was a magnetism about him that was impossible to explain. Or ignore.
The devilish light that entered his eyes at that moment snapped her out of her reverie. It was unconscionable that she think in such a way about this man to whom she’d only just been introduced. Worse yet, to do so in front of her betrothed!
She glanced at Gideon, part of her wondering if he would lose his temper, slap her, tell her she was disloyal, a whore. Memories feathered the edges of her vision but she refused to allow them entrance.
The earl rolled his eyes at the duke. “Hart, she is not so easily seduced. She does at least require that her lovers be…clean.”
Eyebrows rising at the implication inherent in Gideon’s words, Malvina offered curtly, “Not so, my lord. I only require that they be”—she paused significantly, eyeing each gentleman as insultingly as she could— “older.”
Derringer’s mouth split into a wide grin, his eyes dancing with an unholy light. “I can understand your obsession with this one, Witless,” he remarked over his shoulder. “She would make many a man eager to break her to saddle.”
“Hart!”
Raising his eyes to the lady’s son, the duke added, “You may want to be aware that her child will try to murder you sooner or later.”
He stepped away from the lady and sat, not bothering to wait for Lady Malvina to do so first. He ignored the growl that came from the direction of the boy, gazing around him as if he’d never seen his friend’s home before.