What the Groom Wants

by Jade Lee

  Meanwhile, Knopp touched his arm. “Who is Demon Damon? And why the hell would he burn my ship?”

  Not a simple question, and not something he meant to answer in front of Wendy. So he quietly shook his head, then glanced to Bernard. “I’m going to the boat. You will stay here and protect them.” He looked to Seelye. “Are there men here who can defend themselves? Weapons?”

  Seelye’s jaw went slack, shock written in his every line. Radley simply glared.

  “I underestimated this bastard once.” Twice actually, given what had happened to his sister so many years ago. “I won’t do it again.”

  Seelye’s stance firmed up as he gave a crisp nod. “I believe there are some men I could contact.”

  “No. We’ll use my men. I’ll give you the names and what to say. Bring me paper and ink. I’ll write down the names for you.”

  The butler left to do as he was bid. Meanwhile, Radley turned his attention to Wendy. She sat there unmoving, barely breathing. Guilt and shame twisted in his gut. To think he had been in bed seducing Henry’s sister, while the man had been fighting for his life. Against Radley’s foe! Goddamn, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t!

  And yet, looking at Wendy, he knew she had already accepted it. How much had she suffered at this bastard’s hands that she could so numbly believe in her brother’s murder? Good God, why hadn’t he listened when she warned him? Even his message to Henry had been nearly casual. I’ll protect your family. You keep watch on the boat. He hadn’t believed Damon had fighters who could take down a boat at dock. The idea was ludicrous, but all he had to do was look at Wendy to know it was true.

  She was the strongest woman he’d ever known, and yet, she became silent in terror with Damon. And Radley had simply brushed it off as womanly ignorance.

  He was a fool. And Henry had paid the price. Wendy was still paying. And his sister had suffered a decade ago.

  He crouched before Wendy, gently drawing her eyes to his. “I’m going to the docks. I have to… I have to see it for myself. You’re safe here. Bernard is going to stay, and there are men coming to protect the house. You won’t be harmed.”

  She blinked, then her eyes slowly narrowed. It was a subtle change. He saw her slow inhale of breath, only to see her release it in a controlled exhale. Nothing unusual, but this was his Wind. And he knew a calm before the storm.

  “Yes,” she said calmly. “Bernard should stay with mother. She will need him.”

  “And you,” Radley said clearly. “He is staying with you.”

  She blinked. Once. Twice. Then she lowered her eyes. “Of course. With me as well.”

  A lie. Damn it, a bald-faced lie. He had no idea what the woman planned, but she was thinking of doing something.

  “Wendy, you need to trust me.”

  She raised her gaze, her eyes blazing with fury. He winced, knowing what she was thinking. She had trusted him yesterday. She had come to his home, she had dressed as a duchess, and she had gone to a ball. And after that, she had gone to his bed. And all the while her brother had been fighting for his life.

  She had trusted him, and now, her brother was dead.

  “You’re right,” he said, even though she hadn’t spoken. “I was a fool. I—” His voice choked off. “But I can…” He was going to say he could fix things, but he couldn’t. Her brother was likely dead. “I should have listened better. I should have learned more.”

  “You should have believed me when I said it was too late. I should never have gone with you.”

  “Wrong!” He gripped her hands tight enough to make her wince. “You belong with me.” Then he gentled his grip, but his words were no less fierce. “We can figure this out. But hear me, Wendy. You will not go to that bastard. You will not sacrifice yourself.”

  “No, sister, you will not.” That was Bernard, his voice hard and—when they turned to him—his face tight with fury. Radley had seen that look before, that moment when a boy shifted into manhood. Bernard was the baby of the family, cosseted too long. No more. The child had become a man.

  Wendy sighed. “Bernard—”

  “This was my debt, my problem, and I drew you into it.” His voice cracked, but his stance remained strong.

  “And did he trick you into it?” she asked. “Was your drink tampered with? The game false?”

  He watched as Bernard’s jaw firmed. “I still played. I still lost. And I still ran to you—”

  “You had to come to me. Mama doesn’t make any money.”

  Radley fit the pieces together. Damn, he was thinking too slowly! “So it has always been about you?” he asked Wendy. “You think Bernard was tricked into debt to get to you?”

  She nodded.

  “But why?”

  Bernard snorted in derision. “You draw pictures of her for ten years, send her gifts through Henry, and you still ask? Damon has been here all that time. He has seen who she is and what she can do. Of course, he wants her!”

  Radley felt his face heat in shame. The boy was right. “But that’s a lot of work to get a woman. A lot.” Certainly, Wendy was worth it, but… it was hard to comprehend. Unless, of course, trickery was part of one’s character. If it were simply a matter of course to taint drinks and fix games, then it would be no more difficult to target Bernard than it would be to order lunch. And, if that man were also capable of murder, the only question was how Wendy had resisted so long. How had she kept herself and her family free for as long as she had?

  He was about to say as much when the knocker sounded. Seelye had barely finished setting down the paper and ink, and so now had to rush to the door. Radley and Wendy straightened, already following. In their minds was the hope that Henry had somehow—Not Henry. A man with wild hair and a dirty coat of good quality. He was halfway to handing his hat to the butler when he caught sight of Mr. Knopp, who had also come to the doorway in hope.

  “Ah, there you are. Haven’t the best news, I’m afraid, but I’ve been thinking as I made it here. Been a devil of a lot of fuss for you, Miss Drew. You’re a handsome woman and all that, but there’s something more. Obsession never focuses without reason. Why you, I ask. And how can we turn that against him?”

  Radley frowned, his mind quickly placing the man. “You must be the Bow Street runner.”

  “Samuel Morrison, your grace. And you’re the secret admirer turned duke.” He stepped forward with his hand outstretched. Unfortunately, he still held his hat, so Radley ended up taking the crushed thing and passed it to Seelye.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Knopp stepped around Wendy. “What did you find?”

  “Hmm? Exactly what I thought. Fourteen dead—your men and theirs. Ugly fight that. The fire was started with the usual implements—nothing special there. Witnesses aren’t talking, but it’s pretty clear who’s behind it.”

  Mr. Knopp frowned. “Demon Damon.”

  “Yes.” The man’s steady gaze turned to Wendy. “It’s past time to tell me the rest, Miss Drew. I’ve worked out that he was behind my Penny’s trouble with the shop, and we know he set that madman onto Irene.”

  “He threatened Helaine too,” she whispered. “He knows about her father.”

  The runner nodded. “Damon knows secrets, so it’s no surprise he knows about the Thief of the Ton. And he’s done all this to isolate you from your friends.”

  Radley felt his eyes widen. He’d had no idea the depth of the problem. The man had been attacking her friends too? For how long? Good God, it sounded like this had been a slow game that took months, if not years!

  “But that still doesn’t answer the question,” continued the runner. “Why you, Miss Drew? What does he want from you?”

  In the most animation she’d shown all morning, Wendy threw up her hands and all but wailed. “I don’t know! I’ve never known!”

  Mr. Morrison’s eyes narrowed. “Bloody mess there on your ears. How’d it happen?”

  She touched her lobes, her hands trembling as she visibly shrunk into herself. Radley reached out and tucke
d her tight to his side. She resisted at first, but in the end, she was too exhausted to fight. Even so, she didn’t speak.

  In that moment, he understood his mistake, understood what needed to happen to fix it. So he pressed a kiss to her forehead and spoke in a low, soothing tone. “I was wrong, you know, to say you should trust me.”

  She flinched, and he rushed ahead before she could misunderstand.

  “You’ve spent so long fighting this alone. I wanted you to rest, to give the burden to me. That was wrong. I didn’t understand the magnitude of the problem. I didn’t know…” His throat tightened against the grief. Henry was his best friend. “I thought I could take care of it,” he finally said. “But we are strongest together. You can’t give the problem to me. You have to work with me.”

  “And me,” said Bernard.

  “And a whole lot of us, I should think,” inserted Mr. Morrison. Mr. Knopp nodded in response. Even Seelye dipped his chin in agreement.

  Radley flashed them a grateful smile. “See?” he said to Wendy. “Let us figure this out together.”

  “Start by telling me about those bloody ears,” pressed the runner.

  Wendy let her hand drop from her face. “He likes pain.”

  Bloody bastard. Radley lost a few moments of time in the rush of fury that flooded his body. Not a problem for Mr. Morrison, apparently, as the man tilted his head. “What kind of pain? In what way?”

  Bernard growled. “In the stabbing women kind of way. And carving them up.”

  “Tch! That’s not specific enough,” said Morrison as he stepped forward. He tried to disentangle Wendy from Radley to draw her aside, but there was no way that would happen. Instead, he allowed the man to precede them back into the drawing room. Then he followed with Wendy still held tight in his arms. She wasn’t trembling anymore, thank God. And when she spoke, her words were stronger and more thoughtful.

  “Not just giving pain,” said Bernard, his tone thoughtful. “Everything must be mixed with pain for him to enjoy it.”

  “So giving and receiving,” said the runner.

  She nodded. “He said…” The trembling began again, but she finished her sentence. “That I have promise. That… I could be trained.”

  Mr. Morrison waved that off with a distracted air. “Anybody can be trained to enjoy pain.” Then he turned to look at her. “But I can see what he means.”

  Radley stiffened. “What the bloody hell do you mean?”

  It was Mr. Knopp who steadied him, stopping his explosion before it got started. “He means that she’s smart, and she gets people to do things. And anyone who can manipulate people knows the temptation to hurt them too.”

  He knew it was true. After all, he’d captained a ship, been first mate for years, and before that… well, before that he’d always had people following him, doing his bidding. He’d never wanted to hurt them, but he knew the temptation. When he was angry, when they’d done something idiotic.

  Looking at Wendy, he saw that in her as well. It was something they had in common. Though he’d been a golden boy with money and status—at least in their poor neighborhood—she’d been a girl on the outskirts. As poor as they came, with only her wits and her will to survive. How much stronger must be her desire to strike back, to hurt others as she’d been hurt?

  “But you’re not like that,” he said softly as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “That’s not who you are.”

  She looked at him, fear in her eyes. “Are you sure? I can… I can understand the need.”

  His lips curved into a grim smile. “That, my Wind, is different. And entirely normal.”

  “When did you hurt him, Miss Drew?” asked Mr. Morrison. “What, specifically, did you do that hurt him badly?”

  She shook her head. She had no idea.

  But Radley did. It was there in a blinding stroke of clarity. “You helped Caroline. You got her out of the neighborhood.”

  She looked at him, her brows narrowed in confusion. “But how does that hurt him?”

  “He branded her. He didn’t rape her. He carved his initials into her chest. Everyone knew what had happened. Even though he discarded her, she would live daily with everyone knowing that she was his.”

  Mr. Morrison snapped his fingers. “Of course. You took away his trophy.” He glanced at Radley. “How is your sister doing now?”

  “Um… better than ever. She’s engaged to Lord Hartfell.”

  The runner released a huff of exasperation. “There you go. Obvious really.” Then he gestured to the butler. “Fetch my hat, will you? I’ve got to report this to the constable. Let me know when you have your plan. I’ll make sure he and his men are in place.”

  He started to head to the door when Bernard stepped in front of him. “Please explain to those of us who might not be as quick.”

  The runner frowned. “Hmm? Oh right. Well, what did you miss?” Bernard opened his mouth, but Mr. Morrison kept talking. “Years ago, Damon brands the woman he wanted. My guess is she didn’t want him. He was humiliated, so he takes his revenge by making her relive his dominance every day of her life.”

  “Caroline did not want him,” Wendy said. “Said he could rape her, but she would never love him.” She shrugged. “I said the same thing before he did this to my ears.”

  Morrison nodded. “Clever you,” he said. “Got you out of the rape, but then he brands you. Is there some significance to the ears?”

  “Yes.” The one word did not encourage him to ask more. Fortunately, the runner took the hint.

  “Anyway, back to Caroline. She’s a walking, talking testament to his power back then, but in steps little Wendy. You are younger than she, are you not?”

  She nodded. “Younger than everyone except Bernard.”

  “Yes, so here you are, a little slip of thing, and you arrange for Damon’s trophy to escape the neighborhood. Gone is the walking testament to his power. Worse, off goes the outraged brother to sea. Your doing, I assume?”

  Radley nodded, along with Wendy. “Not only that,” he said softly, “you got Henry out too and arranged for lessons for yourself.”

  Morrison chuckled. “Right clever of you to take his statement of power and turn it into a means for your advancement. That must have been the icing on the cake. Made you into a right tasty morsel, and you, no more than a girl.”

  “I didn’t do it for that. I just… saw an opportunity.”

  “You helped,” Radley stated firmly. “You saved her, saved me and Henry, and you bartered for what you needed.” He touched her chin, turning her to look at him. “It’s when I first fell in love with you. Even back then, I knew how incredible you were.”

  “Just so,” agreed the runner, as if he’d been right there. “And Damon too. How many people have defeated him? And so neatly?”

  Bernard answered. “No one. No one challenges him the way you do, Wendy.”

  “And he failed to isolate her. The shop is doing wonderfully. My Penny is happier than ever.” He leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye. “Increasing too now. Going to be babes running around that shop soon.”

  “What?” Wendy gasped. “Congrat—”

  “Yes, yes. Happiest news of my life after the day she said yes. As I said, Penny’s happy as any soon-to-be mama.”

  Mr. Knopp spoke up. “My Irene has found her love. Baby’s due in the fall.”

  “Which means that you, little Wendy, have done nothing but thrive, while his efforts to hurt you have failed.”

  “They haven’t failed,” she gasped. “They—He—”

  Radley tucked her tight against him. No one needed her to say the things she’d suffered at Damon’s hands. Henry’s… disappearance… was only the worst in a long list of horrors.

  Mr. Morrison’s tone softened. “Of course, it’s been terrible, but I was speaking from the Demon’s perspective. From the way he sees it, you have succeeded at every turn, and it has only fueled his need to possess you.”

  Radley understood it then. Or at least he co
mprehended the depth of the problem from an intellectual perspective. Emotionally, personally, he couldn’t calculate the costs to Wendy or her friends.

  Rather than speak, he gathered her into his arms, lifting her into his lap as he cradled her close. She was all but limp. She was hurt and feeling powerless against such a monster, but he would not let that stand.

  “You’re not alone anymore,” he said. “I’m here.”

  Mr. Morrison snorted. “Can’t crumple now. We’re at the endgame. And we’ve got a right good hand, don’t we?” His tone was brusque, but Radley could hear the encouragement in his words. “Got a duke and his men, Mr. Knopp and his fleet of men. I’m off to apprise the constable, and I’d guess your sister’s Scot will want a piece, not to mention Lords Crowle and Redhill. This Demon has hurt us all.”

  “But how?” she said. Her voice was low and filled with despair. “How do we end this?”

  “Well, I should think it’s for the fighting men to answer that.” He looked to Radley and Mr. Knopp. “My job is to figure out the pieces. I’ve done that. Will happily consult in the planning. But, all in all, I’d think you should look to your duke. I think he’s already got an idea.”

  Radley raised his eyebrows in surprise. The man was right. He did have a plan.

  Twenty-four

  Damon

  I will marry you. Tomorrow at two o’clock, Father Wollet’s church. But know that I have conditions.

  —W

  Wendy pressed her list of demands into the neatly folded note. Then she sealed the envelope and handed it to her brother. Bernard hesitated as he took the missive, his young eyes troubled.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? The duke—”

  “Still doesn’t fully understand what’s happening. He’s a sailor, not a London kingpin.”

  “But he’s got a right smart plan.”

  She nodded. It was a good plan and simple enough to work. They had to get Damon into a public place with his men around him. Then someone would goad him into attacking. The Demon was a patient, calculating man, but some insults no man could bear. Not in front of his men. And once Damon attacked, he could be killed. While the constable looked on as witness, Radley would defend himself, and Damon would die.