A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords Book 2)
Page 22
The baron squirmed in his chair. “I beg you. Spare the dear girl. My daughter has suffered enough heartache.”
Miss Bromfield? Suffered? What about Juliet?
Devlin’s blood boiled. The man could not have said anything more damning. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to—
Damn it.
Devlin shot out of his seat. He crossed the room, grabbed the lord by his cravat and hauled him to his feet. “If you were twenty years younger, I would beat you black and blue.”
“Do it, if it means you’ll keep this from Hannah.”
“From Hannah?” God’s teeth, Devlin’s hands throbbed with the need to punish this man. He took one look at Juliet’s face, noted there wasn’t a glimmer of pain in her eyes and it brought him back to his senses. “Do you see the lady before you?”
The baron turned to look at Miss Bromfield.
“I speak of Juliet, you fool. I speak of the only person in this room who possesses an ounce of integrity. I speak of a woman who puts every highborn lady to shame.” Devlin forced the baron to look at Juliet. “She is the only decent member of this family. And still, your thoughts are with the daughter whose vile tongue has cost you everything.”
Devlin threw the baron down into the chair and returned to the sofa.
“Do you feel better now?” Juliet whispered as Devlin settled beside her.
“Considerably so.” He tugged at the ends of his coat sleeves.
“Then I’m pleased.” Juliet gave him a beaming smile and then she straightened. “What my husband is trying to say, dear Miss Bromfield, is that we have evidence to prove that our father is illegitimate, too. Indeed, it means you are the granddaughter of a maid.”
A deathly silence ensued.
Miss Bromfield snorted. “I have never heard anything so preposterous.”
“Oh, it’s true,” Devlin replied. “Your father is the son of a maid. It is the reason he was rummaging in my desk at three in the morning. The reason you were torn from your bed in your nightrail and forced to make a hasty retreat.”
Miss Bromfield turned to the baron who sat with his head hung low and did not meet her gaze. “Papa? Tell them. Tell them to stop spouting nonsense.” Deep furrows lined her brow. “Papa?” After a long, drawn-out silence, she said. “Is it true? Was your mother a m-maid?”
“I believe so,” came the baron’s hushed reply.
“Brace yourself,” Juliet warned.
“Why?” Devlin glanced at Miss Bromfield’s stone-like expression. “What will she do?”
“You’ll see.”
It started as a squeak in the back of Miss Bromfield’s throat. Like a bubbling pot, the sound grew progressively louder as the chit started shaking. The high-pitched wail reverberated off the walls. And then she tore around the room in a frenzy, knocking over the table, smashing the vase. With gritted teeth she clawed at the cushion, sending feathers flying into the air.
“Do something,” Devlin shouted to the baron, who sat dumbfounded. “The girl will do herself an injury.”
Juliet stood calmly. She strode over to Miss Bromfield, who had taken to ripping apart another cushion, and slapped her hard across the face. “Stop it, Hannah. Stop it now.”
Miss Bromfield blinked. She put her hand to her flaming cheek and then crumpled into floods of tears.
Juliet caught her sister and held her in an embrace. “It is better you know the truth.”
“I’m the granddaughter of a maid,” she sobbed, her shoulders shaking with the force. “I’m ruined. Ruined. Ruined. Ruined.”
“Pull yourself together,” Juliet snapped. “I am the daughter of an actress though am more ashamed to say I’m the daughter of Baron Bromfield.”
“Now listen here,” the baron began. “Just because—”
“Be quiet,” Juliet interjected. “After the way you have behaved do not dare chastise me now.” She gripped Miss Bromfield by the upper arms and guided her into the chair. “Now, dry your eyes and listen to what my husband has to say.”
Devlin’s gaze never left Juliet, even when she returned to her seat. Pride swelled in his chest, along with respect and love and a host of other emotions he could not even begin to explain.
“Well?” Miss Bromfield sniffed. “Will you make court jesters out of us, Mr Drake? Are we to be paraded around like the fools of the fair?”
Devlin suppressed a smirk. The thought was tempting. “Rest assured. The letters will remain hidden on the proviso you both do exactly as I say.”
The baron snorted. “You want money. Is that it?”
“I would not take your money if I was begging in the gutter. But you will both work to ensure you clear my brother’s name. You will do everything in your power to restore his reputation. By whatever means necessary. Do this, and we shall not reveal the contents of the letters written to Charlotte Drake.”
The tension in the air was palpable.
“And that is all you seek?” the baron said, his beady eyes narrowed.
Juliet tapped Devlin’s leg and turned to whisper in his ear.
“My wife has a few stipulations of her own.”
Juliet inclined her head to him and then turned to face the Bromfields. “We find ourselves in the unfortunate position of being without a housekeeper. I would like to employ Mrs Wendell if she is happy to move to Blackwater.”
“Mrs Wendell?” The baron’s cheeks ballooned. “But she has worked in this house for years.”
“Then perhaps she needs a change of scenery. I would also like to take Nora as my lady’s maid.” Juliet gave a satisfied sigh.
A sob choked in the back of Miss Bromfield’s throat. “Take the furniture. Take the silver. I don’t care what you take just as long as you keep our secret.”
The baron’s shoulders sagged in resignation. “Take them. Take the whole damn house if you must.”
“Then I shall go and break the good news. Mr Drake can finish with the proceedings here.” Juliet rose from her seat with the grace of a duchess. She left the room without a backwards glance.
“So what do you really want, Drake?” the baron said in a tone reeking of suspicion.
“Only that which we have already stipulated. You have a month to correct public opinion regarding my brother.” Devlin wondered if they knew what that meant. It meant Miss Bromfield would look foolish, would appear inferior to those gentlemen looking to make a decent match. Miss Bromfield’s foolish tongue would cost her dearly.
“And how can I trust you to keep your end of the bargain?” the baron said.
“You can’t. And you will never find the letters.” Devlin had returned them to their hiding place beneath the velvet kneeler. All but one which he retrieved from his pocket and handed to the baron. “This is an example of what I have hidden away. Keep it. Should any further attempts be made to recover the letters, I shall have no option but to reveal all I know.”
Miss Bromfield whimpered. “We will do everything you ask, Mr Drake. Rest assured. The last thing I want is for people to discover I am related to the hired help.”
“Excellent. I am glad we understand one another.”
A host of other questions bombarded Devlin’s mind. He would have answers for those, too, before he left the baron to deal with the volatile lady at his side.
“Might I ask if you’ve heard from Mr Biggs? He was alive when we parted company though I have not seen him of late.”
The baron scoffed. “Then you’re the reason the rogue robbed Mr Middle’s office and caught the mail coach north.”
“Someone had to make the fellow see sense.” Now to return to the matter of his brother. “Did Ambrose tell you how he came by the letters? The ones written by the maid we now know to be your mother.”
An agonising groan left Miss Bromfield’s lips.
“Your grandmother gave them to Ambrose when she persuaded him to break his oath to my daughter.”
Miss Bromfield’s sudden gasp revealed her surprise. “What! So it’s a
ll your fault.” Tears trickled down her face. “Ambrose would have married me were you not your father’s by-blow.”
“Shut up, Hannah, before the servants hear.”
It occurred to Devlin that the baron’s motives for the duel stemmed from more than just the disrespect shown to his daughter. Would the baron have fired if given a chance? Would the baron have murdered Ambrose to keep his secret safe?
Either way, it didn’t matter now.
Ambrose was dead, and Devlin had his own reasons for not revealing the truth.
“I shall return for Mrs Wendell and Nora first thing in the morning.” Devlin stood and strode to the door. As his fingers settled around the handle, he stopped and turned to face the sorry pair. “One more thing before I go.”
“What now?” The baron huffed. “I knew there would be something.”
“Should either one of you do anything to hurt my wife, I shall steal into this house at night and take you both hostage. Indeed, you might find yourselves smuggled onto a stinking hulk, might wake on a cramped ship bound for the Americas.” He cast a wicked grin. “Good day to you.”
The argument in the drawing room started as soon as Devlin closed the door. Miss Bromfield shouted and screamed. The crashing of glass reached Devlin’s ears along with the baron’s cries and protests.
Not wishing to be a witness to a murder, Devlin chose to wait outside. After a minute or so, Juliet appeared at the door and hurried down the steps. Her wide smile told him they had just hired a new housekeeper and maid.
“Oh, I cannot wait for Mrs Wendell and Nora to see Blackwater.” Excitement radiated. Juliet looked happy. “Did you see Hannah’s face when she learnt of her imperfect bloodline?”
“It was priceless.”
“I shouldn’t gloat, but I cannot help it.”
Devlin stepped aside as the groom opened the carriage door and lowered the steps. Devlin took Juliet’s hand, assisted her into their conveyance and followed closely behind. They settled into opposite seats, simply because he liked to gaze upon her during their journey.
“Your sister’s temper is likely to land her in Newgate,” Devlin said as the carriage rattled along the busy street.
“At least she had something to be cross about this time. Usually, she flies into a rage at the mere sight of the dinner menu.”
Was the lady’s volatile nature the real reason Ambrose decided to—
Enough.
Devlin had spent three years thinking about Ambrose. Now it was time to think about his own future. “On the subject of dinner,” he said, “I thought we might stay in Wimpole Street tonight rather than travel to Blackwater.”
Besides the need to collect their new housekeeper and maid, there was another reason he wanted to remain in town. The shocking note had arrived just before they had left for London.
Valentine was to fight a duel at dawn.
Devlin had meant to tell Juliet on the journey but wanted to deal with the baron first. He would tell her later this evening when they were nestled in bed, else she would only worry that he might act as Valentine’s second. Dariell had accepted the role. Valentine was perhaps the greatest shot in all of England, so the Frenchman had nothing to fear.
Valentine, he has such a surprise in store.
Dariell’s words drifted through Devlin’s mind. Strangely, he did not feel a sense of foreboding. How could he when this was Valentine’s destiny?
“I was going to suggest we stay in town tonight.” Juliet’s sweet voice dragged Devlin from his reverie.
“You were?” Devlin raised a curious brow. “Why? Has it something to do with the fact that we have made love in every room in Blackwater?”
“Most rooms,” she corrected, moistening her lips. “But it’s not so much about the place as it is about the person.”
That told him.
Devlin smiled. “Your honesty is perhaps your greatest asset, Mrs Drake. Along with your incredible stamina and your ability to tame wild beasts.”
Juliet raised her chin. “You must admit I did an excellent job with Rufus.”
“You did indeed, which is why I intend to reward you with whatever your heart desires.”
Her jade green eyes softened. Love lingered there. He knew the emotion by sight now. “You have already given me everything I want. What could I possibly ask for that I don’t—” She stopped abruptly and sucked in a breath. “Oh, I know exactly what I want.”
“You do?” Did she mean children? At the rate they made love, she could well be with child. The thought found him in the grip of another powerful emotion. The need to protect his family raged like a fire within.
“I would like a mate—”
“A mate!”
“For Rufus.”
“You want to lumber us with another uncontrollable beast?”
“A mate might calm him down.”
“I highly doubt it.”
Juliet chuckled. “Why? It worked for you.”
Devlin laughed then. “You have a valid point. But I’ll not have two dogs in the house.”
“Not even if I can train them to behave?” She arched a brow by way of a challenge.
“Are you suggesting we make another wager, Mrs Drake?”
“Not at all. The pressure to win is far too great.” She crossed the carriage, fell into his lap and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do to change your mind?”
The minx!
She only had to look at him with those mesmerising green eyes, and he was a slave to her wants and whims.
“It will take an awful lot of work to persuade me,” Devlin teased as he tugged down the window blind to his left. “And you know I’m stubborn. You know I am the beast most men fear.”
Juliet twined her hands around his neck as he leant forward and lowered the other blind, too. “You’re not a beast. You’re just a very large man.”
“Do you think you have what it takes to manage me?”
“Yes, Mr Drake,” she breathed as she rained kisses along his jaw. “I believe I might manage you very well.”
The End
Thank you!
Thank you for reading
A Wicked Wager
What surprise awaits Valentine at his dawn appointment?
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Avenging Lords Series Book 3
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Books by Adele Clee
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What Every Lord Wants
The Secret To Your Surrender
A Simple Case of Seduction
Anything for Love Series
What You Desire
What You Propose
What You Deserve
What You Promised
The Brotherhood Series
Lost to the Night
Slave to the Night
Abandoned to the Night
Lured to the Night
Lost Ladies of London
The Mysterious Miss Flint
The Deceptive Lady Darby
The Scandalous Lady Sandford
The Daring Miss Darcy
Avenging Lords
At Last the Rogue Returns
A Wicked Wager
Valentine’s Vow
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