A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords Book 2)

by Adele Clee

  She offered their guests an exuberant smile, and Devlin knew then he was lost. Lost in a blissful euphoria. Lost in a whirl of powerful emotions. Lost in abiding feelings of love.

  The neckline was too low, her stays too tight, the gown far too flimsy for an autumn night such as this. Juliet forced a smile as she greeted their guests though it took a tremendous effort to prevent her heart from bursting out of her chest. Seven pairs of eyes stared, scanned her from head to toe. While Devlin’s friends looked upon her with an air of wonder, the same could not be said for her father or Hannah.

  The baron held a detached gaze, the look he cast his servants to show they were in his house to provide a service—nothing more. Hannah had the look of a wildcat on the hunt—back arched, claws extended ready to attack. She glared at Juliet as if she might scratch out her eyes and use them to lure the crows.

  Could Hannah not find it in her heart to be happy for the girl who had served her faithfully these last six years? Could she not find it in her heart to hide her true feelings, just for tonight?

  Feeling a sudden flutter of nerves, Juliet looked at Devlin, and her anxiety drifted away like petals in the wind. While he, too, looked upon her in awe—and something vastly more licentious—his admiration stemmed from somewhere beyond his penetrating gaze, from somewhere deep inside. Indeed, it was as if his soul stretched across the space between them to touch and twine with hers.

  The power of it invigorated her spirit. It gave her the confidence to straighten her shoulders, to look at Hannah directly and smile.

  Devlin cleared his throat, but the other lady in the group rushed forward, hands outstretched.

  “Forgive me, but I lack the patience to wait for introductions.” The lady took Juliet’s hands and clasped them tightly.

  “You must be Lady Greystone. My husband speaks fondly of you.”

  “Does he?” she said with some surprise. “I must admit that I was rather rude to him when we first met. And please, you must call me Lydia.” The lady held Juliet’s arms wide, her bright blue eyes gleaming as she studied Juliet’s dress. “Your modiste has outdone herself. You look captivating.”

  “Thank you.” A blush crept up Juliet’s cheeks for she was unused to accepting compliments.

  “And your sister looks positively green with envy,” Lydia whispered.

  “Does she? Oh, I’m afraid she struggles to cope when the attention is not directed her way.”

  “My sister-in-law was the same.”

  Was?

  Devlin had mentioned Lord and Lady Lovell. The lady had suffered a terrible accident, though he had said nothing about her dying from her injuries.

  “Please accept my condolences,” Juliet said, squeezing Lydia’s hand as a sign of sincerity. “While I knew of the accident, I did not realise she had passed.”

  “Oh, Arabella isn’t dead. My brother sent her to an asylum, so he could move his mistress into the house. It’s a terrible scandal, of course, but when one’s relation is a fool it cannot be helped.”

  With honesty being a trait Juliet most admired, she warmed to Lady Greystone instantly. “Well, I have spent my whole life living under a cloud of disgrace. It will be good to have company.”

  Devlin appeared at Lady Greystone’s shoulder. “Forgive the interruption. But I must introduce you to my friends.”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t mind me.” Lydia stepped closer and whispered, “I shall attempt to have a civil conversation with your sister.”

  Juliet didn’t hold out much hope. Civility was a word foreign to Hannah’s vocabulary. “Then I wish you luck.” She slipped her hand into the crook of Devlin’s arm.

  “You look exquisite tonight,” he said as he led her to Lord Valentine and Lord Greystone.

  Juliet met his gaze, though her stomach performed a range of somersaults. “I’m pleased you approve.”

  Lord Valentine kissed her hand, and while she imagined most women swooned beneath his penetrating gaze, she merely smiled and shifted her attention to Lord Greystone.

  “My wife has been eager to meet the lady who saved Drake from a miserable fate.” Lord Greystone inclined his head. Unlike Devlin—whose strength was evident in every bulging muscle—Lord Greystone possessed a kind, friendly countenance. But the man was skilled in the art of pugilism, had a presence that roused confidence in his ability to achieve his goals.

  Juliet caught a glimpse of the baron and Hannah in the far corner. Lady Greystone had joined them, though Hannah failed to grant the lady her full attention.

  “And you have Dariell to thank for your wedding band.” Devlin drew Juliet to the mysterious fellow standing by the window.

  Dariell bowed low. “It is a pleasure to meet you, madame. Drake, he has found someone who can smooth away his rough edges.”

  Devlin coughed into his fist. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  “And do friends not speak the truth?”

  Juliet cast the man her widest smile. There was something about the rich quality of his voice that stirred the senses. Wisdom radiated from him, warm and vibrant.

  “If I may, I should like to see the ring.” Dariell offered his palm and Juliet slipped her hand into his. The skin was soft, smooth, transmitted a vibrating energy that journeyed up her arm. It was nothing like the feelings of lust and love she felt for Devlin, but more the spiritual cleansing one received when touched by the hands of a priest.

  Dariell closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he said, “You have a kind and loving heart, madame, as I undoubtedly knew you would.” He ran the tip of his finger over the mystical ring and gave a hum of satisfaction. “The ring, it is a perfect fit, no?”

  “Indeed. It seems you have great foresight, sir. I hope you, too, take comfort from such a gift,” Juliet said, feeling energised by his touch. “May I ask if you’re able to use the skill to predict your own destiny?”

  Dariell raised a brow, seemingly impressed by her question. “Most people, they press me to learn what I know of their future. But you, madame, are the only person ever to consider my wants and desires.”

  “I must have asked you at some time,” Devlin said defensively.

  “No, Drake, you have not.” Dariell gripped Devlin’s shoulder in a gesture of friendship. “But when a man’s heart is full of vengeance, he finds it difficult to think of others.”

  “It is not that way anymore.”

  “No, I can see that it is not.” Dariell turned his attention back to Juliet. “And to answer your question, madame, I have had a glimpse of what life has in store for me.”

  “You have?” Devlin seemed surprised.

  “My destiny is entwined with our good friend Lockhart’s. And that is all I can say on the matter.” Dariell sighed deeply. “Now, there is the matter of a mystery to solve, and I believe I am here to assist you in your endeavour.”

  The mere allusion to the baron’s hunt for the letters drew Juliet’s gaze to her father. Lady Greystone had rejoined her husband, leaving Hannah and the baron muttering quietly between themselves.

  They were the last people she wanted in her home. Now that they were here, she should make every effort to uncover more clues.

  “Forgive me, Mr Dariell. I shall leave you in my husband’s capable hands for I must speak to my father.”

  “Of course, madame.” He smiled. “And have no fear. A kind heart offers immunity to a viper’s venom.”

  The comment went some way to easing Juliet’s anxiety. “Even so, I shall have a care when my sister extends her fangs.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, and after receiving the tender touch of Devlin’s hand on her arm, Juliet crossed the room to greet her father.

  They finished their little tête-à-tête as soon as they witnessed her approach.

  “Shouldn’t you go and see what’s delaying dinner?” Hannah spoke as if Juliet were still a servant in her household.

  “I’m sure it won’t be much longer.” Noting the sour look on Hannah
’s face, Juliet chose to be blunt. “I’m surprised you came. No doubt you have a host of people longing for your good company tonight.”

  Sarcasm was lost on Hannah, but Juliet enjoyed the newfound freedom that permitted her to speak her mind.

  “What? And have everyone bombard me with questions about you?” Hannah turned up her nose. “Everyone wants to know about my father’s secret daughter,” she said, her tone more a high-pitched screech. “Everyone wants to know about the woman Devlin Drake won in a wager.”

  What about me? she might have said.

  “And would you not welcome the attention, Hannah?” Oh, Juliet intended to wring this conversation for everything it was worth. A kind heart only went so far. “After all, it would make a change to tell the truth for once rather than have to invent sordid stories of scandal.”

  A scarlet blush tainted Hannah’s cheeks. “As you spent most of your time in the scullery, Juliet dear, I hardly think your opinion qualifies. And regardless of your present status, you will call me Miss Bromfield.”

  “Of course. And you will call me Mrs Drake.”

  Hannah huffed.

  “Perhaps you should join Lady Greystone, Hannah. It does no harm to make yourself appear more amenable.” While the baron spoke to the spiteful creature at his side, he kept his keen gaze trained on Juliet.

  “But I don’t want to—”

  “Go,” their father commanded. “I want five minutes alone with your sister.”

  The baron offered Juliet his arm. Once, she would have been thrilled by the prospect of walking with her father. Now, the thought filled her with dread.

  “Shall we step out into the hall?” the baron continued. “I think a little privacy is called for. After all, I did not come all this way to sample Drake’s best brandy.”

  Nerves knotted in Juliet’s stomach. Oh, it was foolish to think the baron would do her harm in her own house. Not when he needed her cooperation. Besides, with a burning curiosity to discover the truth, she had no choice but to accept.

  But it seemed fate had other plans.

  Withers entered the drawing room to inform them that dinner was served.

  The baron cursed beneath his breath. “Just find those damn letters.” He tugged on her arm and drew her closer. “I know they’re here. Ambrose told me so.”

  “Perhaps he lied.”

  “They’re too incriminating to destroy.”

  The baron did not have an opportunity to say any more. Indeed, Devlin approached and did not leave her side for the rest of the evening. His friends monopolised the baron’s attention until it was time to retire.

  “We’re sleeping together tonight,” Devlin whispered in her ear as they followed their guests upstairs to bed. “Although sleep will be the last thing on our minds.”

  Excitement fluttered in her breast even though she knew seduction was not part of the night’s agenda. No. They were to wait for Dariell, wait for information on the baron’s movements during the night, wait for an opportunity to confront the devious lord and discover the reason for his duplicity.

  “Is it just me, or did Mrs Barbary treat the baron with barely veiled disdain?” Juliet said as she settled into the fireside chair and cradled the glass of sherry a maid had brought to her room. “She was not as sharp with Lord Valentine, or Mr Dariell.”

  Devlin dropped into the seat opposite ready to join her in their nighttime vigil. “She blames him for what happened to Ambrose. Thankfully, we all ate from the same platters. Else I fear she may have laced his dinner with arsenic.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking. While I am as eager as you to discover the truth, I’ll not be an accessory to murder.”

  “Of course I’m joking. Cook locked the arsenic in a cupboard and wears the key tucked into the valley of her bosom. No person alive would dare venture down there.”

  Juliet smiled though nerves pushed to the fore when she considered what the night might bring. “Do you really believe my father will leave his chamber tonight? Do you expect to find him prowling the dark corridors?”

  Devlin’s mouth thinned as he stared at the amber flames. A weary sigh left his lips. “When it comes to the baron nothing surprises me. But rest assured, we will soon know the answer.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The faint creak of a door forced Devlin to open his eyes. While the fire still radiated a modicum of heat, the flames danced low in the grate. One glance at the stubby candle in the lamp told him the hour had long since passed the stroke of midnight.

  Juliet slept in the chair opposite, a blanket draped around her shoulders.

  The light pad of footsteps in the adjoining room told him to expect Dariell, but Devlin took a moment to study his wife.

  A mysterious tug in his gut had prompted him to speak to her in the garden on the fateful day the baron arrived to pay his debt. The same overwhelming sense of rightness encouraged him to offer marriage. But it was her strength of character that had stolen his heart. Juliet was beautiful inside and out, and he was a better man for having met her.

  Love flowed through his veins.

  Love inflamed every fibre of his being.

  Love held him captive.

  “It is as you suspected.” Dariell’s soft French burr reached Devlin’s ears. His friend appeared from the shadows, noted the angel sleeping in the chair and kept his voice low. “The baron, he has spent fifteen minutes in your brother’s bedchamber.”

  “Did he see you?”

  Dariell’s mouth curled up in amusement. “Of course not.”

  “And what of Miss Bromfield?” Devlin asked, wondering if his instincts were right.

  The lady had spent the evening vying for Valentine’s attention, stroking her fingers seductively over her collarbone, moistening her lips, touching his arm repeatedly during dinner. The lord’s lack of interest only fuelled her need to whet his appetite.

  “Miss Bromfield, she left her room wearing nothing but her nightgown, crept to Lord Valentine’s room and tried to gain entrance.”

  Devlin snorted. “Please tell me he locked the door.”

  “Oui. Of course. Valentine is no fool.” Dariell shrugged. “His destiny, it lies elsewhere.”

  Intrigued by the comment, Devlin straightened. “And the widow, Lady Durrant, does she have a role to play in Valentine’s destiny?” Hell, he hoped not. But Valentine had made a vow to marry and seemed set on the widow.

  “Perhaps.” Dariell’s eyes gleamed with excitement, and he chuckled almost to himself. “Valentine, he has such a surprise in store.” His amusement waned. “But I am here to assist you with your destiny, my friend, and I must tell you that the baron has just descended the grand staircase and is on the hunt.”

  “The conniving bastard,” Devlin whispered. “The man has the devil’s impudence.”

  “Will you confront him alone?” Dariell glanced at the beauty sleeping in the chair.

  The last thing Devlin wanted was to cause Juliet more pain. But he had told her they would tackle the baron together, and he would not go back on his word.

  “My wife deserves to know the truth, despite any reservations I might have.”

  A satisfied sigh left Dariell’s lips. “You have travelled a long way to find your life’s purpose, no?”

  It felt as though he had spent an eternity wandering aimlessly. “The journey has been rather hazardous, treacherous in places.” He glanced at Juliet. “But the discovery of a rich, new land has made every miserable moment worthwhile.”

  “Then all is as it should be.”

  “Indeed.” Devlin leant forward, touched Juliet’s knee and shook her gently. “Juliet. Wake up.”

  Her eyes fluttered beneath her lids.

  “Juliet,” he whispered, but she did not wake from her slumber. Devlin came to kneel beside her, took her chin gently between his fingers and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

  She sucked in a breath, and her eyes flew open. “Devlin. Has … has something happened?”

 
“Your father is currently prowling about downstairs. Do you wish to remain here, or shall we go and catch the blighter in the act?”

  She shook her head, blinked rapidly and pushed the blanket off her shoulders. “No, we will go together.” Her gaze moved languidly from Devlin’s face. Her head shot back, and she gasped as she locked eyes with Dariell. “Mr Dariell, I did not see you there.”

  Dariell inclined his head. “Forgive me, madame. I shall return to my chamber if my services are no longer required.”

  Juliet stared at Dariell for a moment. “Perhaps you should accompany us.” She cast Devlin a look that begged for his support. “You have a way of seeing things others do not. When it comes to my father, there is no telling what he might do.”

  “If that is what you wish,” Dariell agreed.

  “I have no objection.” Devlin stood and took hold of Juliet’s hand. “Let us see if the baron has had any luck finding the letters he so desperately seeks.”

  The long-case clock chimed three. Devlin, Juliet and Dariell all hurried down the stairs before the vibrations ceased. They had no need to hunt their prey. The faint glow of light creeping out beneath the study door alerted them to their quarry.

  They tiptoed to the door and stopped outside.

  Dariell clutched Devlin’s arm. “I shall wait here,” he mouthed silently.

  Devlin nodded. He gripped Juliet’s hand and waited for her nod of approval before pushing open the door gently and padding lightly into the room.

  A lit candle stood in its holder on the large oak desk.

  Seated in Devlin’s chair while rummaging in drawers left deliberately unlocked, it wasn’t until the baron heard the click of the door closing that he realised he was not alone.

  Devlin smiled. “Found what you’re looking for?” Arrogance dripped from every word. “Are there any cupboards you wish me to unlock? Perhaps you might like to ferret around in my wife’s bedchamber, too.”