by Devon, Eva
“You’ve warned me already,” she said.
“Yes, and I’m still warning you, and I still believe that it would be a great mistake.”
“You think I would be a great mistake?” she asked, her head a tangle of thoughts.
“I think I would be a great mistake for you,” he stated.
So, she said nothing and laid back on her bed, knowing she would not sleep the whole night, but she would feel safe. . . completely and frighteningly alive in his presence.
Chapter 6
A cacophony of voices burst through the darkness.
Heath drove a hand through his hair.
What the devil was he doing here?
He did not know, but he knew he had to be here.
It was the only place he could be. He did not understand what had compelled him to put himself so firmly into Lady Mary’s life, but whatever it was, he had to stay. So, when she bolted upright in her bed, her entire body tense, he knew some momentous thing was happening.
“It is my brother,” she whispered. “Robert is downstairs.”
Heath remained silent.
The arguing that ensued caused them both to listen attentively, but they could not make out the words through the thick walls. There was only the clarity that there was anger, frustration. Her father was shouting. Heath knew that voice. He had heard it often enough in his own office and on the floor of his club when he’d lose another fortune.
Mary turned to him slowly, her face gaunt. “I will go with you,” she said.
He nodded. “I’ll have an address and a coach for you tomorrow morning.”
“What should I tell my mother?” she asked, her voice strained.
How he hated to hear that pain. Even though he knew life was suffering, he hated to hear it in her brave tones.
“Tell her you’ve been invited to stay with a friend,” he instructed calmly. “Tell her you’ve been invited to stay in the country.”
She nodded. “Easy enough. I-I don’t know what I should do for her.”
“First, you must take care of yourself,” Heath replied gently. “And then you can help your mother.”
She swallowed then nodded even as her eyes shone in the moonlight with unshed tears. She blinked quickly, banishing them.
He wished he could give her more comfort, but this world seldom had the comfort that people desired. It was tempting to take her into his arms, to assure her that all would be well, but he could not do either of those things, so instead, he stood.
Dawn was beginning to slip through the window. The faint blue light of early morning, that strange transitory time between night and day. So it did not surprise him that this was the moment when Lady Mary said she would go.
“I will be ready for you,” he said.
From her bed, in her night rail, small but fierce, she declared, “I will be ready too.”
And he believed her. And with every growing moment, he admired her more.
So without another word, they waited. Once the shouting had died down and a silence stretched through the room, there was a loud bang downstairs. . . The sound of, almost certainly, her brother exiting the house. . .
Heath wondered what horrors the heir had gone through.
No doubt, many.
He strode to the window, but before he leapt through the open frame, he said, “You can do this.”
“I agree with you,” she ventured. “Because you believe.”
He shook his head. “You must do this because you believe too.”
“I will believe bit by bit,” Mary replied, her hands curling into fists.
“That is a beginning.” And with that, he climbed onto the windowsill and slipped out the way he had come by, sliding to the branches of an ancient oak. Easily, he scuttled down the tree.
His booted feet touched the earth, and he began to stride towards the pavement.
This was an adventure he had not planned on, but now that he was on it, he thought of the people he’d tried to help. Perhaps, this time, he’d succeed. He was determined.
And once he determined something, it was very seldom that he did not meet his goal. He only prayed he could resist her because there was something about Lady Mary that he could not deny.
She spoke to him in a way no one had ever spoken to him before, and that was frightening, but fear had never stopped him.
No, fear had always driven him forward.
When he was afraid of something, he launched himself at it. It was the only way to survive this life. If one cowered at fear, one would begin to disappear, to collapse, and he would never fade away again. He would never live in the shadows, and he prayed he could help Lady Mary find the same thing.
Chapter 7
Lady Mary raced down the steps, the coach outside waiting for her. Her trunk was easily deposited onto the top.
The driver looked down at her. “Are you ready, then, my lady?”
She gave a curt nod and looked back up to the house that had been a source of nightmares for her for the last few years. Her mother was staring out the window, gazing at her with a pale face. Resigned.
No, not resigned. There was a happiness, even to her stance, that perhaps her daughter was escaping. Her own mother would never be able to escape, she knew that. Not until her father was dead. And so, she allowed the beautifully liveried footman to guide her up into the coach.
The door shut, and she turned and spotted Richard Heath sitting in the shadows.
She started, that humming in her body coming to life again at his presence. “I did not think you would go with me.”
“Why not?” he asked with surprising good cheer. “It is the beginning of our adventure, our relationship.”
She glanced at the window. “But surely, everyone will know.”
“No one will know,” he assured. “No one will have any idea you’re going down to the country with me. I’m a master at arranging such things. Fear not.”
With that, the coach began to roll forward across the West End through the gilded streets of London where there was so much wealth that one would have thought no one could suffer, but she knew the houses of this area were full of suffering.
While some people led glittering lives of opportunity, others were barely managing to live in the nightmares they had created for themselves. She was going to stop that now. This was the moment, and she’d been brave enough to take it. She turned to Richard Heath, amazed by him. He was so powerful, his shoulders so capable that they look like they could hold the weight of the world, and she wondered if they often had.
“Why me?” she asks suddenly.
He cocked his head to the side, his dark eyes guarded. “I beg your pardon?”
“Why choose to help me?” she asked, determined to be bold with him. “Surely, there are so many people about you who need your assistance.”
“I try to help them as best I can,” he evaded, pulling off his gloves. . . A fascinating study, revealing long fingers and rough palms.
“I see,” she said, though she didn’t entirely. So she dared to continue. “I don’t truly understand you, but I knew that I had to accept your offer, even if it means. . .”
She paused.
“Even if it means?” he prompted, his lips quirking.
“That I am taking things into my hands,” she rushed, pulling off her own gloves. Another mark of freedom. “I don’t truly know what sort of man you are, aside from your reputation, but there’s something in you that assures me this is the right decision.”
He laughed slowly. “You are an optimistic soul.”
“I never would’ve thought to hear that,” she said. “I have lived my life in so much fear.”
“Well, you are not living in fear now,” he pointed out.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling, the first true smile she’d made in years, “for that. It is you who is making it possible.”
“No,” he countered, lifting his hand in disagreement. “It is you. You’re the one who boldly steppe
d into my club.”
She laughed, suddenly delighted with herself. “I did, didn’t I?”
His gaze flamed. “Yes, Mary.”
She couldn’t fight her smile. “Are lessons to begin immediately, or must we wait until we go down to the country?”
“Our lessons have already begun. You have acted strongly now.”
She tilted her head to the side, contemplating his statement. “I have, haven’t I?”
“Mary,” he began. “I think you’ve already started out on the path you need to be on, and I am merely here to guide you on it.”
She folded her hands in her lap, pleased. “It seems so odd that a notorious lord of the underworld should be the one to guide me.”
He let a grin curl his lips then. “Life is full of strange things.”
“Indeed. Tell me about yourself,” she said.
His grin faded. “Why would you like to know about me?”
“Well, if you are to be my guide,” she teased, “surely, I should know something.”
He gave a decisive shake of his head. “You need only know that I came from hell and managed to escape it, just like you will do.”
“So we are similar, then?” she asked, amazed she should have something in common with him.
“In some ways,” he agreed, leaning back against the velvet squabs, his greatcoat sprawling over the seat as his legs took up a good deal of room. “But in most, no. We come from entirely different worlds.”
“But we are after a mutual end,” she replied.
“A mutual end?” he queried, his strong brow furrowing.
“To be free of fear,” she declared.
“Yes, Lady Mary,” he agreed, as he rested one of his hands on his knee. “To be free of fear.”
“You must call me Mary now,” she instructed. “And shall I call you Richard?”
“Richard,” he groaned. “No, thank you. Call me Heath. It is the name I prefer.”
“Then, I shall call you Heath,” she said with a nod. “And you shall call me Mary, and we shall be friends.”
“I don’t generally have friends,” he replied factually.
She frowned. “If not friends, then, what are we to be?”
He waggled his brows. “Accomplices.”
It was a strange word, but she liked it. “If that is what we are to be, then.”
“Now, what lesson shall I have on the way to your country place?” she asked, eager to begin.
“You shall have peace,” he said. “I think that is something you are not used to.”
Peace? He was going to give her peace? Well, that was completely unexpected and a trifle disappointing.
“True,” she agreed warily. “Peace is not something I am accustomed to, not in my father’s house.”
“Then, allow yourself to breathe,” he said, sitting with complete ease in his stillness. “To be at peace. To sit in quiet and to think about what you want most. And when we are in the country, then we will begin to achieve that.”
“If that is what you say. . .” she said, though she’d been hoping for something with a bit more. . . fire?
“It is. Do you think you can do it?” he asked. “It is not easy.”
“I will try,” she said, her mind rioting with questions. But she was going to follow his directions. And if he instructed peace. She would try to achieve it.
“Good.”
But sitting so near him, the toes of her traveling boots all but brushing his, she could not ignore the fact that her body did the strangest things in his presence.
The scent of him, some strong leather and spice she did not know, permeated her senses. His entire being seemed to radiate confidence. It surrounded her, wrapping her up in a strong cloak. She loved it. It was something she wished more and more of. . . Like laudanum, she assumed. And if this drug was anything like the one her father took, she could understand why he needed it so much.
She sat for several moments then found herself unable to resist. “You are a most interesting and compelling person.”
He eyed her, amused. “How very kind of you to say so.”
She narrowed her eyes at him even as she, too, smiled. “I shall weasel things out of you, you know?”
“I am sure you’ll try,” he said, clearly unalarmed.
“And I shall succeed,” she said, even as the coach began to rattle over the deep ruts of the country road.
“There,” he stated with no ill will. “You are growing stronger moment by moment. Could you have thought you would demand such a thing of a man like me but a few days ago?”
“No, I couldn’t,” she breathed, amazed. “It would seem to be something that could only happen in the pages of a novel.”
“And yet, here we are,” he boasted.
“And like a heroine,” she pursed her lips, “I shall succeed with you too.”
“Ah,” he said. “But heroines often meet bad ends,” he tsked.
“Do not say such a thing, for you have promised I shall not.”
He hesitated. “I did not promise you would not meet a bad end, Lady Mary. I said I would help you to grow strong.”
“You are making me feel most confused,” she said. “I thought you were promising me hope.”
“I am promising you strength,” he reminded, his amusement fading to something stronger, deeper.
The coach kept rolling on.
He fell silent, and so did she.
She sat in his presence, drinking it in, trying to think of what she truly wanted, and suddenly, a voice whispered in her head that she wanted him.
But such a thing couldn’t be possible. Could it?
She had never wanted a man before.
She had never wanted a relationship with a man before. Look at what had happened to her mother. But at the same time, she understood she was now a woman and that she had the urges of a woman. She wasn’t a silly girl. She was, as he had stated, a strong woman set on a course now.
And, if she was honest with herself, she wanted him. Desired him. Passionately.
It was amusing since she had been so horrified by the prospect of selling him her virginity. Now, she wished to simply give it to him. But would he take such an offer?
She wanted him to liberate her from all the rules and stupidity of her class, and she wondered if she could convince him to allow her to do so with him. She did not know if he would, but she hoped so, because she had a strong feeling that if he could be hers, even for a short time, she would be an entirely different woman, a woman she would admire herself.
It seemed mad. The world seemed mad as of late.
She had never wanted a lover before, but now it seemed like the bold choice of being with him could set her free, as if she could somehow take off the shackles of being a young lady of the ton.
Yes, he was the key to all of this. She was certain.
He was the key to her liberation. . . And he knew it too, but something was holding him back.
And for the first time, she wondered if it was possible that Richard Heath could be afraid of her.
Chapter 8
As a child who’d known nothing but the filthy, infested warrens of the East End, Richard loved the country.
As soon as he’d had enough money, he’d bought himself a retreat outside the city.
It was within a few hours’ drive of his club, and it was perfect. Whenever he could, he came away from the din and the dirt and the filth of London Town to drink in the pure air and bathe under the shade of ancient trees.
Though the grit of the city was in his veins, he enjoyed the solitude and the peace the country gave him. The sound of birds, the wind through the trees, the flowers, the scent of earth, they were all magnificent things.
He found that if he could immerse himself in it, he could find peace. A temporary respite from nightly terrors.
He hoped Mary would find it, too.
As the coach rolled up to the cottage he had bought, not an estate—he didn’t need an estate—but a be
autiful cottage of beautiful yellow stone in a small copse of trees near a stream, he studied her face.
She looked out the window, peering at it. “This is yours?” she queried.
“Indeed, it is,” he said, trying to seem disinterested in her opinion. “What do you think?”
“It is nothing like your club,” she mused, almost leaning out the open coach window.
“No,” he laughed. “It is nothing like my club and for a reason. My club is not for me.”
“And this is for you?” she asked, turning to him, eyes wide with understanding.
“It is. What do you surmise from it?” he asked, curious what such a place might say about him to a lady like herself.
She gave it thought before she surmised, “That you are, at heart, a simple man.”
A deep rumble of a laugh came from him. “Could anyone accuse me of such a thing?”
“I do,” she said. “Or at least, so it would seem. This is not a great house or a grand proclamation of wealth and power.”
“I don’t need to proclaim wealth and power,” he stated easily.
“Because you have it,” she returned.
“I’ve spent a good deal of time acquiring it,” he said factually.
“You’ve been ruthless,” she observed.
“I have,” he agreed, finding no reason to deny what was obvious.
“Well, then, let me see this simple side of you.” Her smile lit her whole face, and it seemed a weight had been lifted from her. “I am curious.”
The sight of her losing her cares, nearly undid him.
He was happy to show her this side of him. He did not think she would appreciate the others. The darker, more grim bits of him that had dug their way through the grime and the dirt and the sludge of London.
He opened the coach door, jumped down, and held his hand out to her. She took it lightly and followed him.
He guided her up the small walk. He had arranged for food to be sent to that house, but he had no servants. He did not wish anyone to observe them together, and he felt she needed time alone to regain the strength she already possessed.
She was already growing.