by Devon, Eva
“It was never truly mine to begin with,” Blackstone whispered. “All the men of my family have thrown away their lives.”
Heath’s gut clenched at that tragic statement. The duke clearly believed it with his entire being. Heath hated to admit the truth of it. Not only had Blackstone drank his life away and chased the dragon, but so had his eldest son, who had already succumbed to the darkness of that family. Dead. Dead far too young for believing that family curse. How many Blackstone men had been destroyed by it before they could even begin?
He knew there was a younger son, a son in the military, off fighting on the continent. He could only pray that that young man was not going to suffer such an ignominious fate as his father and brother.
“I do not believe in fate like that,” Heath said. “If I did, I should never have pulled myself up from the sewage I was born to.”
“You acknowledge it, then,” Blackstone said, “that you were from piss and shit?”
“I’m proud of it,” Heath replied honestly. “It’s made me the man I am. You were born in gold and silk. Look at where you are. I’d say you’re in the sewage now, Your Grace. Not I.”
The words shook between them, and Blackstone shuddered.
Clearly, no one had ever spoken to him this way, and it was difficult for him to take.
“You may feel you hold the upper hand now, but I do not agree.” Blackstone’s eyes glassed over, and he pulled out a silver flask from his coat. “Perhaps you are interested in her, and perhaps I have found a way to make you pay.”
Heath ground his teeth. “Take care now, Your Grace. You know I can make you suffer. Do not force me to make you regret those words.”
Blackstone let out a dry laugh before he drank deeply from whatever lay within that flask. “There’s nothing I can truly regret now, Heath. Perhaps, one day, you’ll understand that. Good day to you, sir.”
And with that, the Duke of Blackstone turned on his booted heel and stormed from the room.
Heath watched him go, tempted to toss back a snifter of brandy, but deciding that imbibing was the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment.
No, that would not honor Lady Mary. Or the countless women like her. Women were in a position of general suffering in the world, but he hated to think of Lady Mary’s pain every day at the hands of such a man.
How had she survived?
By not giving up. And at that moment, he knew; Lady Mary was the sort who would never give up. . . And by God, he was in awe.
Chapter 5
Mary woke with a start.
Something was amiss.
She blinked in the darkness.
She was used to strange things happening in the night. Her father often brought strangers into the house. There was often loud carousing. The sounds of crashing bottles. The loud noises of men drinking and women laughing.
She’d grown accustomed to it, but tonight, there was silence.
Still, she was certain something was not right.
She held very still on her bed. Her breath caught in her throat. She rolled over onto her back, glancing about the shadowy chamber.
Everything looked as it should, except one corner of the room was darker than the rest, and her heart began to pound in her chest.
“You know I’m here. Don’t you, Lady Mary?”
She gasped and sat up abruptly. “Mr. Heath, what ever are you doing here?”
She held the mended linen sheet close over her thin night rail.
“I’ve come to warn you.”
“Warn me?” she repeated, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness until she saw his figure more clearly, like a demon summoned.
“Your father knows you came to see me,” he said softly.
Her heart hammered in her chest, terror taking hold of her. Her father was a vicious man, and he might absolutely take vengeance upon her for getting in the way of his plans.
“How?” she whispered.
Even in the shadows, she sensed his grimace. “I had a moment of lapse, and I said something which indicated you had come to see me, and for that, I greatly apologize.”
She bit down on her lower lip. “Thank you for coming to warn me, but I don’t know why you would.”
“Don’t you?” he queried. “I promised to give you power, and I put you in a more difficult position. So now. . .”
“Now?” she prompted, shocked she was in a room alone with him, she in her bed, barely clothed.
“Now, I’m going to help you more directly.”
“I don’t understand.” And she didn’t. How could he?
“I want to take you away from London,” he said intently. “I want to take you away to a place where you’ll be able to grow strong and away from your father, and he won’t be able to push you into a dangerous position, one that you cannot escape. I have a strong feeling he’s going to do everything he can to put you into a marriage that you don’t wish.”
“I’ve already assumed that was his plan,” she said. “He’s been making it clear to me that is my role: to make a financially advantageous marriage.”
“Yes,” Heath sighed. “But now, he’ll be more angry because I won’t be the one, as he planned. I made it very clear to him that I will make his life hell if he tries to hurt you. But in consideration, I think that might have angered him more. He’s not a rational creature.”
How he knew her father. Heath was correct. Her father was not a rational man. He did not respond with reason. If one pushed him into a corner, he was more likely to lash out than to pay heed.
“I cannot leave my mother here.”
“Your mother will be safe,” he promised.
“My brother is going to return soon,” she protested. “I cannot bear missing him.”
Heath sat silently for a long moment. “So you will not go away?”
She swallowed. “I-I don’t know. Do I have to decide at this very moment?”
He took a step out of the shadows, sliding into the moonlight and heavens. He was a magnificent creature. The slight light shone on his dark russet hair. His broad shoulders filled the window, and his cheeks were like two slashes of hard marble.
“You are your own person, Lady Mary,” he stated as thought the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Perhaps it was. “I will not make you go, but I think it is the right decision.”
“What you ask of me is too great,” she rushed, anguish tearing at her. “You ask me to do something so reckless.”
“You chose to ruin yourself when you came to visit me in the East of London. Why stop now at this?”
Her eyes darted about as if she might magically spot an explanation they could bother understand. “Because I’ve never been away from my family, my mother. She needs me.”
“But staying with her is keeping neither of you safe,” he pointed out ruthlessly. “I want to take you out of London, and I want to teach you how to be strong.”
“You’re going to go to?” she gasped.
“I am going to go too,” he confirmed.
“Please, I don’t think I can give you an answer at this moment. I know you wish me to but—”
“Then, don’t,” he said without judgment. “But do not think long. Your father is a vicious man.”
“Can I send you a note in the morning?” she asked, her mind whirling.
“You may absolutely do so, but. . .” He strode forward towards the bed and, without asking, sat upon the mattress. She rolled slightly towards him. “I am sorry for causing more grief in your life. It was not my intent.”
Heath was not supposed to be a kind man, but at this moment, she knew he was.
It was the only reason why he would come to her in the middle of the night, slipping into the great house to tell her of such a plan. . .
Unless he would hurt her in some other way. Was there some machination she did not see? She’d grown used to the manipulations of people, but he did not seem to be doing such a thing.
She studied him, untrusting, even
if she wished to be. “Why are you truly here?”
“Ah. Mary, you’re being so wise not to simply trust,” he said approvingly. “I don’t entirely know what I’m doing here,” he admitted. “Since our meeting, I have been unable to shake you from my thoughts. It galls me to admit it. It makes me sound like a foolish boy.”
“It certainly doesn’t sound like something you would say, and I do not think anyone could accuse you of seeming a boy,” she countered.
“You know me but little,” he reminded, his heavy weight on her bed nearly taking her breath away.
She leaned against the headboard, his hand but an inch from her thigh. “Your reputation does not make it seem as if I would be able to strike any sort of chord within you.”
“You have,” he said softly, that low rumble of a voice caressing over her body, and she all but shivered.
He did things to her that she had never imagined possible, and she angled towards him. Her night rail slipped down her shoulder. She should’ve covered back up again, but she did not.
She glanced up at him, taking in his granite face. “Why?”
“Because you have such a strong soul, and I admire you for it.” A muscle tightened in his jaw with an unknown emotion. “You’re courageous, Mary. You’re not going to just take whatever your father does to you, and I’ve put you in a dangerous position, and I loathe myself for it.”
“Do not,” she demanded. “I’d be in a dangerous position in any case. You are a human prone to mistake, as I am.”
“Am I?” He looked away. “Some people don’t seem to think so.”
She reached out impulsively and touched his cheek, turning him back to her. “I see you now, here, doing me this kindness, and that makes you human.”
“Do not like me, Mary,” he said even as he did not pull away.
“Why not?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“Because,” he began. “You see one aspect of me, and you assume it means I am kind. It is not true. You could not know the shadows of my life or the things I have gone through or done.”
“Then, tell me,” she urged.
“I would horrify you, and you would not be able to look upon me as you do now.”
“How dire that sounds, very dramatic,” she teased.
“Not dramatic,” he replied. “The truth.”
“Then, you do not think me so very strong, after all,” she replied.
“I do think you strong, but I think you are innocent.”
“You should know the things I have seen in this house,” she cut off. “In my father.”
“Yes, Mary,” he acquiesced. “I understand the things your father has done, but even he, he is but a scratch on the surface of the depravity of this world. The things I have seen would leave you scarred beyond repair.”
“I see,” she breathed.
She’d never seen the horrors of the East End.
She’d seen them depicted in things like Hogarth’s drawings, but Heath had seen them firsthand.
“And you wish to spare me that,” she prompted.
“I wish to spare everyone that,” he gritted. “It’s why I do what I do.”
“You see?” she said, smiling at him. “You are kind.”
“Is it kindness?” he challenged. “I don’t know, but I would like to stop the world from hurting as much as it does.”
“Then, why are you the owner of a gambling club?” she asked, letting her hand trail to his arm, feeling the hard sinews beneath her palm.
He studied her pale hand. “Because I cannot feel sympathy for men like your father, who are willing to throw themselves away. If I had not, I would still be where I was, and so, I must take advantage where I can.”
“I understand,” she said.
“No, you don’t,” he growled passionately. “And I don’t wish you to, but I do wish you to be stronger, and I do wish to make you like me in one way.”
“Which way is that?” she asked.
“I do not wish you to be taken advantage of.”
“Why have you chosen me?” she demanded suddenly.
“I. . .” he paused. “I don’t know.”
But then, oh, so slowly, he reached out and stroked a dark curl back from her face.
“I do not act from my usual source of reason,” he began, searching for words. “I am compelled to be here with you, and I cannot deny that I must do this. I thought of sending someone else, but I must do this for you, for myself. After all, it is in my club where your father lost all his money.”
That tender touch stole her breath, but she replied, “As you would say, he would have done it elsewhere if it wasn’t for you.”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“But you feel some sort of responsibility?” she queried.
“Something like that,” he said. “But I see in you a soul that should be taken care of, and I often wonder if someone had taken care of me, what kind of person would I have become?”
The strange complexity of the man sitting so near, on her bed, struck her. “So you wish to help me as if you could help yourself?”
“I suppose,” he said. “Let’s leave it at that.”
“Is that the only reason?” she asked.
“Why do you wish there would be another reason?” he teased gently. “Do you wish me to be in love with you?”
She flinched at that. “I am not so romantic as that. I have lived with my mother and my father, and I do not believe in love in that sort of way.”
“I wish you did,” he said shockingly. “I wish all people could believe in love, but more often than not, it does not seem to exist.”
“Exactly,” she agreed. “So let us not talk of love. Love is for fools, I think.”
He closed his eyes for a long moment. “It grieves me to hear you say so, though I am the last person who should be a champion of love. Even so, I’d like to think that, one day, you could find love.”
“Do not,” she said firmly, despite the hunger growing in her body for him. Hunger was not love. Of that, she was certain. . . And yet. . . No, she wouldn’t countenance it. “I have seen the horrors between my mother and father, and I shall never chance it.”
“If that is what you say, then I won’t argue with you.” He drew his hand back, resting it again on the bed. Still, the air fairly hummed between them. “But promise me you will give me your word tomorrow that you will let me take you away until your father can at least be mollified.”
“My brother. . . He is to return.”
“Yes, I understand your brother is going to return, but I will take care of him too.”
“Will you take care of everything?” she said, doubtful.
“Would you like me to?” he asked suddenly.
“I thought you weren’t going to save me,” she said even as she longed to place her hand atop his.
“I’m not,” he said. “And I’m not going to save your brother either, but I can at least assist you two in finding a new way, so that you’re not completely marred by a man like your father. We should not all be controlled by the evils of our fathers, or the bad men in this world.”
“Are you not a bad man, then? You seemed full of portents at your club.”
“I’ve done bad things,” he confessed without remorse. “More than you could possibly understand, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to stop people from being hurt.”
“Then, yes, I promise—”
A crashing downstairs cut through their reverie.
Heath tensed, looking back over his shoulder. “Your father is home.”
“Yes,” she whispered, flinching. “He is.”
The sound of two female voices drifted upward.
“I don’t think he shall come up tonight,” she said, full of dread.
“No,” Heath agreed. “He clearly has a distraction. Would you like me to stay? I can sit in the corner of your room.”
“And watch over me?” she asked, stunned.
“Yes,” he said. “I can watch
over you. I can make sure no harm comes to you.”
She leaned back on her elbows.
It was a mad thing.
Richard Heath, owner of a notorious gambling club, offering to watch her as she slept.
She should be terrified of him, but she was not. She recalled the soft touch of his hand in his office and, now, the soft touch of his hand upon her face. She nodded. “I would like you to stay.”
“Then, I will. I can at least protect you from the damage I have done.”
“Oh, Mr. Heath,” she sighed sadly. “No one can truly protect me from the damage that has been done. But you’re right. We can find a new way forward.”
He nodded, pleased. “You’re very wise for a young woman of the ton.”
“I’m not like most young women of the ton,” she agreed, all the grief and pain of the years, threatening to rise. “I too have seen things.”
His face grew hard. “I’m sorry for it.”
“Don’t be,” she said. “It has led me to know you, and it has given me the opportunity to become stronger.”
He said nothing then as he stood from the bed and strode to the chair in the corner then sat. She eyed him. Her entire body alive, longing for him to join her, but she would not ask. That was not what their relationship was to be. It never could. A young lady like herself should never even entertain such a thought!
She knew that, but she hungered for it.
Irrationally, she wanted him. She wanted it in a way she never had understood before.
She knew she would never have love, but perhaps she could have something different. It could be the best path she could choose. Her mother had chosen love.
So many women chose love and were destroyed by it. But she could have a relationship with this man that would make her stronger, better, more interesting, and wasn’t that what she wanted for herself?
Suddenly, she found herself saying, “You don’t have to sit over there.”
“Yes, I do, Mary,” he said, using her given name with stunning ease. “You don’t know what you’re asking to entreat me into your bed.”