by Devon, Eva
“Oh, yes,” he said, that low voice of his a soft growl. “I could never have reached where I am without careful calculation.”
She believed it, too.
He was not wild and passionate like she’d thought he was going to be. He was not vibrating with danger as she had assumed a man from the East End might be. Something else entirely emanated from him.
There was a cool, calm calculation to him that she liked and wished she could have herself.
A realization dawned on his strong face. “You don’t wish to go, do you?”
“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” she confessed. “And I admit, I am reticent to give it up. What if you change your mind?”
“I shan’t change my mind,” he assured. “I won’t see you crushed under your father’s keeping.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Are you to be my savior, then?”
“No, Lady Mary,” he replied. “You’re going to save yourself. But first, you must go home.”
Save herself.
It was the most novel thing she’d ever heard, and yet, he was right. Wasn’t that what she was doing in any case? Wasn’t that why she had shown up upon his doorstep?
“If you wish me to go, I will, but. . .”
“But what?” he asked, attentive.
“You are such a mystery.”
She held his hand more firmly.
She allowed herself to stay close to him, shocked that she would wish to do such a thing, but she did. She felt as if she was drawing strength from him just by being in such close vicinity. She cocked her head back, studying his face, studying those lips she had been about to kiss, and suddenly, she wished she were kissing them, that they were upon hers.
“Would you. . . would you kiss me?” she asked.
Something ignited in his eyes. “Why in God’s name would I do that?”
She blinked. “Of course, you’re correct. I don’t think you would wish to kiss a girl like me.”
“A girl like you?” He arched a dark brow. “A girl like you shouldn’t be kissing anyone. A girl like you should be waiting for a shining moment with a husband who loves her.”
Anger coiled deep within her. A hissing serpent, hungry to unleash itself.
“Does such a thing exist?” she spat out. “I think it only exists in fairy tales and novels.”
“Let’s cling to the hope,” he said.
She gaped before she replied, “You are far more hopeful than I.”
“You’d be surprised what I am,” he said gently. “But I do wish you to be. . . Dare I say, happy.”
That anger flared anew. “Mr. Heath, happiness is not something to which I wish to ascribe. I have doubts such a thing truly exists. I wish to be a capable young woman who is at the behest of no one.”
His brow furrowed. “And you think kissing me will help you do such a thing?”
She licked her lips, her breath growing shallow. “I think that kissing you could be. . .”
“What?” he dared.
Goodness. Her entire body felt as if it was vibrating in his presence. She was alive with him. Utterly alive. “A revelation.”
“And you wish to have such a revelation?” he rumbled, drawing in a deep breath. “Well, then, let’s not leave it a mystery. You can kiss me, and then you’ll know I’m not the man for you.”
“How will I know such a thing?” she challenged.
“Because I will not be sweet and gentle, Lady Mary,” he warned. “If I kiss you, I will kiss you with every ounce of passion and body that I have, for I want you to understand you do not wish me.”
That warning chimed through her, and rather than back away, she wanted to go forward. Toward him. She couldn’t understand it, but she did.
And so, she tilted her head again and said, “Show me, then. Show me that I don’t desire you and that this isn’t the answer and that kissing you will not teach me anything.”
“After I kiss you,” he whispered, his fingers raising to skim her cheek. “You’ll know that when you come back to this place, you are not here for a kiss. You are here for something else. You are here for power.”
Then he cupped the nape of her neck with his broad hand, angling her head, and he lowered his mouth to hers.
His lips were warm, strong.
And he was right.
There was nothing tentative about him.
He took her mouth like she thought a general might take a battlefield. His mouth worked over hers, taking, taking, until suddenly, she parted her lips, and she realized she was taking too.
Drowning in heady sensation, she could not reason nor breathe. But it was a tide that swept her up, and oh!, all she longed to do was yield to it.
It was a part of her she didn’t even know existed. She allowed herself to hold onto him. She gave into that kiss, breathing with him, allowing his hot mouth to caress hers. The kiss tangled, their tongues touching. Their bodies pressing into each other. Fire crackled between them.
And suddenly, he pulled back.
“Bloody ’ell,” he said. “Oi never would ’ave expected that.”
The tripping Cockney fell off his mouth in rugged tongues as he struggled to regain his composure.
“Expected what?” she said.
His broad, hard chest expanded as he sucked in a breath. “For ye to. . .”
“For me to what?” she gasped, barely able to draw cohesive thought.
“For ye to give as well as to take. Go,” he barked. “I ’ope you understand that if you want kisses from me, more might follow, for I am not a gentleman. And you’re not a bleedin’ ’igh kick. You’re a lady.”
“I know you’re not a gentleman,” she said. “And I think it’s what I’m growing to like about you. I’ve known a good many gentlemen, and none of them have been as kind as you have been to me.”
“I am sorry for it, my girl, but make no mistake, you do not wish to climb into my bed.” His eyes positively glowed with darkness, like two burning embers in a dying fire. “’Tis no easy place to be.”
She gave a nod then. “I wish what you offer me. Power,” she said. “You promised me power.”
He tugged his waistcoat down, his hands at his breeches for a quick moment, before he pressed a hand to his cravat. “And Oi will definitely give it to ye, but now ye must go.”
She wondered then. . . Did he even know he had slipped into the strange language of his past? She wasn’t certain he did, and she wouldn’t point it out to him, lest it changed his mind.
She slipped her hand from his, backed away, and just as she was about to leave, he called, now in perfect Etonian tones, “My footmen will escort you home. I will not have you traversing the streets alone. My God, it is a miracle you are in one piece here tonight.”
She wasn’t sure she was in one piece anymore.
She felt as if that kiss had taken her apart, and she had a funny feeling that she would never be put back together the same again.
Chapter 4
“What the blazes do you mean you don’t wish to marry her?” demanded the Duke of Blackstone.
His dark eyes flashed with fury. The bloodshot whites of one consumed by opium and wine were sunken in his yellowing face.
Richard Heath sat back in his chair, completely unintimidated by one of the most powerful men in the land. At least, he should have been. But the Duke of Blackstone had abdicated that power some years ago when he’d chosen the path of laudanum, wine, women, and gambling.
Now, he was but a shadow of the powerful man he should have been. Heath had far more power. For, the Duke of Blackstone was unable to exercising any sort of authority over anyone anymore. Not truly.
He had no money. He’d lost several of his estates, and Parliament viewed him as a fool. Still, he was capable of committing great damage to his family.
Heath easily drummed his fingers along his polished desk. “That’s correct, Your Grace. I’m not going to marry Lady Mary.”
Blackstone spat, “It is a wonderf
ul opportunity for you to marry the daughter of a duke.”
“You’re right, of course,” Heath agreed, leaning back to show his ease. “It would be a wonderful opportunity for a man like me.”
“You came from nothing, man,” Blackstone intoned. “Born in a gutter, I’ve heard. To marry the daughter of a duke? It is far past your dreaming.”
“You’d be surprised what I’ve dreamt about,” Heath responded.
And it was true.
As a child, he’d never even thought to attain such heights.
He hadn’t even known what a building like the one he owned and operated out of looked like.
The beauty of it, had taken him years to understand, to cultivate, but he had. He’d clawed his way up from the very bottom of society. And he had taught himself to be, if not a gentleman, someone who understood the ways of society and appreciated the beauty society seemed to think so important.
But still, he was not going to marry Lady Mary.
He appreciated her far too much for that. He wouldn’t condemn her to a life married to a man like himself. Besides, he was not desperate for position. Wealth was his position, and the various toughs he controlled.
And so, he cocked his head to the side. “Your Grace, I do not aspire to the lofty heights of society that you seem to think I do.”
“Of course you do, man!” Blackstone snapped. “Every man like you does. All the Cits want to marry girls from the aristocracy. It gives them future position for their children.”
“I don’t wish to have children,” Heath said honestly. “And I don’t wish for position. At least, not the kind that you are suggesting. I have position over enough.”
Blackstone sneered. “You’re a fool, then.”
“Am I, Your Grace?” He smiled his cold smile. “I do not think you’re in a position to be insulting me. Besides, I have no desire to become your personal bank.”
Blackstone stopped. “What the devil do you mean?”
Heath cocked his head to the side. “If I married your daughter now, yes, it would eradicate your 30,000 pound debt. But I do not think it would stop you from spending, and you’d come to me every other day, asking for another handout.”
Blackstone’s body all but shook with his fury. He was in need, no doubt, of more laudanum. “My God, who the devil do you think you are?”
“Richard Heath is who I am,” he said. And that was quite enough. He didn’t need to say any more about his identity. “You are no longer capable of ordering men about, Your Grace, except for perhaps a few servants. And soon, even they will not listen to you, for you do not have the financial ability to pay them. And you haven’t for some time. One can only hope your son will come home soon and take over for you.”
“He cannot take over. I’m the duke,” Blackstone snapped, his bony hands emaciated in the way those who eschewed food for drink became, curled into fists.
“Well,” Heath shrugged. He could not pity this man who would prostitute his child for his needs. “Then, perhaps death will visit you soon, and then you won’t have to worry about any of this any longer. And your son will be able to repair all you have made a wreckage of.”
“Is that a threat?” Blackstone demanded.
Heath leaned forward, bridging his hands.
It was tempting to threaten death to a man like Blackstone.
After all, if he threatened murder, then perhaps the duke would leave Lady Mary alone, give his wife a bit of peace, and stop gambling and ruining his family estates.
Heath didn’t give a damn about the family estates, but he did, to his own surprise, care about Lady Mary.
Still, he doubted even a promise to come round and murder him or beat him black and blue could stop Blackstone now.
“It’s not a threat, Your Grace,” Heath said simply. “It’s a fact. The way you’re living, you’ll die any day.”
A shadow crossed over Blackstone’s gaunt face. “It is the way of Blackstone men to die early. I’m not afraid of it.”
“You should be,” Heath warned quietly. “The way you’re going, it shan’t be a pleasant end.”
“What do you know of pleasant ends?” Blackstone returned, weaving ever so slightly. “You’ve come from the gutter, and you’ve seen men die like dogs.”
“It’s true,” Heath agreed without shame. “But death is a great equalizer, Your Grace. Just because you’re a duke doesn’t mean you shall die any better than a dog. As a matter of fact, I think most dogs will have more honor than you when you die.”
Blackstone ground his teeth together. “You’re not worth my daughter.”
“You’re correct,” Heath said tightly. It was true. Lady Mary was above him, and not in position. She was everything that was good in this world of darkness. “I’m not.”
“How would you know?” Blackstone said, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve never met her.”
“Oh, just from supposition,” Heath said quickly, realizing he’d made a critical error.
Lady Mary was causing him to make critical errors.
She’d been in his thoughts since nightfall, in wondering how he could help her. He was not a man to usually slip up, but he realized that, at this moment, he just had.
“You’ve met her,” Blackstone breathed.
Damnation.
Blackstone was not an idiot.
In fact, he was incredibly intelligent.
It was a great misfortune that his demons had destroyed him so utterly.
Worse, Blackstone had given into them entirely. He did not even try to stop. Perhaps he’d given up trying, because it was impossible.
Heath could not say.
He’d known men like Blackstone before, men who had wallowed in their own misery and grief and had been unable to stop their descent to madness and darkness and death.
Heath had had one such moment, years and years ago, but he had seen another path, another choice, and he had taken it. And it had stopped him dying in a hellish alley somewhere where no one would have known his name or remembered him ever again.
“Yes, I have met Lady Mary,” he admitted.
“How?” Blackstone demanded.
“It’s none of your business, but you will leave her alone,” Heath said with more danger than he usually implemented. “She doesn’t need your punishment.”
As if he realized he’d gained some sort of excellent card in a game, Blackstone said, “She’s my daughter, and I’ll do whatever the devil I care with her.”
Fury at himself for being so easily off foot, coursed through Heath. He forced himself to appear calm. “Of course, she’s your daughter. And by law of the land, you are allowed to do what you wish with her.”
“Females are property,” Blackstone declared. “That’s all they’re good for.”
Heath pressed his lips together.
He wasn’t prepared to go into a debate with Blackstone. There was no point, but he hated that sentiment. He’d seen women passed around by men, used as if they were nothing more than a vessel for their own pleasure.
It was certainly something Blackstone did. And he loathed the man for it. The fact he had so misused the very people he was supposed to take care of most, his wife and daughter, made him only the more appalling.
“Be careful, Your Grace,” Heath suddenly found himself saying. “Lady Mary is not the sort of woman to be trifled with.”
Blackstone laughed, a harsh sound. “She is a trembling fool, and she will damn well do as I tell her.”
Heath sat still, thinking of Mary and the power she did not know she had. “You may think so, but I think that one will surprise you.”
“You know nothing about her,” scoffed Blackstone.
“You just said I’ve met her. Clearly, I do know something.”
Blackstone narrowed his gaze. “And I’ll punish her for it.”
“You punish her,” Heath slammed his fist down on his desk, “and I will find a way to make you pay.”
Blackstone laughed again. “How the
devil could you make me pay?”
“I’ll call in your debts,” Heath warned.
“You cannot do it,” Blackstone blustered. “I am a duke. You cannot send the debt collectors after me.”
“I can send a duke to Fleet Street like the next man,” Heath said. “Don’t think I can’t.”
Blackstone snapped up his gloves. “This is a pointless conversation.”
“I’m glad you realized that, Your Grace.”
The Duke of Blackstone drew in a long breath. “I still think you should marry my daughter. She’d be the best thing for you.”
“No, it would be the best thing for you,” countered Heath. “And it shan’t happen. I will not condemn Lady Mary to a marriage with a man who does not want her.”
“Want, love, all those foolish words,” Blackstone said with a strange softness. “Those things mean nothing. The only things that matter are money and position, and you have one, but not truly the latter.”
“I thought we had established that I have position,” Heath said.
“You are the king of the underworld,” drawled Blackstone. “That is it. That is all.”
As if he were but a fly to be brushed away, Heath replied, “To be a king of the underworld is certainly better than to be a duke like you.”
Blackstone’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I do not here have teeth yet to bite?”
“No, I do not,” Heath said. “You’re an old dog, and you’ve lost your ability to cause damage to a man like me, and thus, you harry your womenfolk. And do not think Lady Mary shall tremble beneath you anymore. I think you’re going to find she will not do as bid. And if you try, you will have me to reckon with.”
Blackstone winced. “We are not done. We will have more of this later.”
“Indeed, we shall,” Heath agreed with faux pleasantry. “Because you owe me 30,000 pounds, and you will find a way to get it. I don’t care what you have to sell, but you will pay your debts, Your Grace. Even a man like you must pay the piper when he calls.”
Blackstone stared into the distance. “I will not spend the last of my days in Fleet Street Prison.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Your Grace,” Heath mocked before he gritted, “I hope you can pull yourself up by the bootstraps you so think the unwashed masses should do. You were born to great power and position, and you’ve thrown it all away.”