“Devon, are you truly worried?” she asked with surprise.
“Let’s just say, I’m cautious. They are probably discussing nothing of importance.”
“Don’t worry. Not tonight,” she whispered. “This is our night.”
The musicians struck the first chord of a spirited reel. “Oh, come,” she said, tugging his arm. “Let’s dance.”
There was a commotion coming from the front door. Someone must have fallen or stumbled. She hesitated, wondering if she should investigate.
Then a man shouted.
Leah frowned. Perhaps one of the guests had already had too much champagne, but Wills would take care of it. She moved to the dance floor, Devon following. Couples were skipping to the happy music. Concentrating on the pattern of the dance, she and Devon took their places at the end of the line.
However, during the pause in the next beat in the music, the man shouted again. He called, “Huxhold!” Leah heard him clearly, and the voice was frighteningly familiar.
Devon heard, too, as did all the other guests and the musicians. A woman screamed, and people started moving away from the door, where her brother Julian stood.
It had been almost a year since she had seen Julian. He’d put on weight, and his face was bloated and blotchy. She realized he’d been drinking. He swayed on his feet, nursing his bad hand by holding it close to his side. In his other hand was a loaded pistol.
The musicians stopped playing.
“Huxhold,” Julian said in the sudden quiet. “I demand satisfaction.” He then raised the pistol and aimed it at Devon’s heart.
CHAPTER 18
“Julian!” Leah cried. She stepped forward even as Devon pushed her toward Rusky and out of harm’s way.
The earl caught her by the arms. “Let Devon handle this,” he warned.
She ignored him, twisting to release his grip. “Julian, why are you doing this?” she cried.
“Come outside, Huxhold,” Julian demanded. “We shall settle this in the middle of the street with many witnesses this time.”
“I don’t want to fight, Julian,” Devon said.
“No!” Julian held up his mangled hand. The fingers curled like claws, permanently frozen. “I believed you when you said that once before, and look what I have to show for it. This time you will meet me like a man.”
The guests eased away from Devon, lest the pistol Julian held went off and the ball struck them instead.
Her father stepped forward. “Julian, you do not come into a man’s house and in front of guests demand satisfaction. Hand me the pistol and we will take this into another room, one more private.”
“I’m not going with you,” his older son announced. “You’ve sold yourself. You have no pride.”
Her father’s eyes blazed with a fury the likes of which Leah had never seen before. “You will obey me!”
“Aye, I will obey you, Father, once Huxhold is dead,” Julian vowed. “He has shamed my sister. Disgraced my family! The Marshalls and their false accusations have ruined you and ruined me. It’s time one of them paid.”
Leah strained against Rusky’s hold. “Julian, please, you don’t know!”
“I know everything!” He practically spit the words out. “He was seeing you, having you lie to your parents while he used you. I know he had to be forced to honor you with marriage. I know when the marriage took place, Leah. You didn’t run away to join him the way everyone thinks.”
Leah went wild at his apocalyptic words. Where had Julian got this information? “You don’t understand,” she said desperately.
But Julian had dismissed her in his mind. “Meet me, Huxhold. Now!”
Her father started forward, but Devon motioned him back. “It is no use talking to him. He isn’t interested in the truth. And I’m bloody tired of the accusations. Let us give him what he wants.”
Leah wasn’t certain what Devon meant. His expression was so composed that it could have been set in stone. He began walking without fear toward Julian.
Julian watched him approach, taking a step back and then another. The gleam in his eye grew more reckless.
“Take the gun from him!” Leah shouted to the bystanders, wanting someone to grab Julian and wrestle him to the ground, but they held back.
“Let Huxhold take care of it,” Rusky whispered furiously.
Leah rounded on him. “You don’t understand. I can’t risk this. I can’t live without him!”
Then to her horror, Julian stopped, but Devon kept coming until the bore of the pistol pressed against his jacket, aimed straight at his heart.
“Go ahead, Julian. Fire.”
Leah screamed in outrage. She’d had enough! Her brother was not sane. Did Devon not realize the danger? She brought her heel back and kicked Rusky’s shin with all her might. The sudden pain surprised him, and she was free. She ran across the floor to her husband, hurling herself at him to push him out of the way.
But Devon didn’t move. Instead, his arm circled her, holding her safe. She could feel the tension in his body. He could break Julian if he wanted, and he would to protect her. If something didn’t happen, there would be fresh blood and no end to the fighting between the two families.
“Kill me, Julian,” she begged. “I am the one you are angry at. Take my life.”
“No, not you, Leah. Huxhold.” Julian’s hand shook. Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip. The scent of fear was in the air.
“If you kill him, you are killing me,” she pleaded. “I love him, Julian. He is my life.”
Her brother’s eyes widened. “How can you? After all that the Marshalls have done to our family? His grandfather has ruined us, Leah, I have proof. He blames us for deaths we never caused.”
“Julian, you don’t understand, it’s over. No one wants this.”
“I understand that we will never know peace until the Marshalls are dead. All dead.” He pushed the gun against Devon, and Leah felt Devon tense, ready to spring on her brother.
Then her mother’s voice cried, “No, wait!”
Everyone but Devon and Julian turned to her. She stood a step apart from Leah’s father. “I broke the pins.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in. Her father was the first to understand. “You, Regina?”
Her mother raised her hands as if to stave him off. “You have taken the blame for too many years and I’ve let you because I was afraid of what would happen if the truth was learned, but I can’t let this go on.” She turned to her oldest son. “I did it, Julian. I was responsible.”
“But why?” Julian demanded, his expression growing confused. “Why would you kill them?”
“I didn’t mean for them to die. I just wanted to hinder Lord Huxhold’s rig so that your papa could win the race. We needed the money, Julian. I did it for the money.” Her lower lip quivered and her hands were clasped tightly, but she did not cry. Instead, she turned to the marquess. “I did not think they would be harmed. I just wanted Richard to win. Then there was that terrible accident—”
Her voice broke off with a choked sound.
She stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by her peers, and Leah’s heart bled for her. But there was nothing she could do. This was the terrible secret she had carried all these years. This is what she had alluded to.
Her mother turned to her father. “I even took the money you won for finishing the race. I know you had refused it, but we had no choice. We needed it…” Her voice trailed off.
No one moved. The shocked silence was more damning than any recrimination. Leah didn’t know what to do. The marquess turned away from her mother, and she stood there all alone, a broken figure.
Then her father held out his hand. “Come, Regina.”
She shook her head. “You should send me away. I’ve disgraced you, but I’m sorry, Richard. I’m so sorry.”
“I know.”
The tears came freely now. They rolled down her mother’s cheeks as she whispered, “It has been so hard to live wi
th it.”
Her words hung in the air. But when the answer came, it was Lord Kirkeby who spoke. “It was an accident. Caused by foolishness,” he responded gruffly, his own voice full of emotion. Still, he found it difficult to look at her.
“Richard?” she whispered.
Leah’s father came forward. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I am guilty as you are, Regina. I should have been more help. Let us go home.”
They started slowly for the door, but her father paused in front of Julian. “Come. We’ve all done enough for tonight.”
His words had a sobering effect on her brother, who suddenly seemed to realize he had an audience. His gaze followed the line of the room, and he gaped at the guests who stood in frozen tableaux, their expressions curious, angry, indignant. His arm holding the pistol dropped to his side. Without a glance at Devon, he turned and left the room. His parents followed him out.
Silence echoed their departure.
Leah stood beside Devon, but she felt alone. Slowly, the numbness gave way to a great weariness.
Devon whispered in her ear. “Release it, Leah. It isn’t worth it. Come. We’ve all had enough for tonight.”
She nodded mutely, but her world had been destroyed. All these years, she had believed her family unjustly accused.
He walked her toward his grandfather as Venetia swept forward and signaled the musicians to begin playing again. Her efforts were in vain. The atmosphere of the ball had been destroyed. Already, guests were taking their leave, anxious to share such juicy gossip.
Lord Kirkeby looked ill.
“I’m so sorry,” Leah said.
“It’s done.” The marquess turned to his footman. “I am ready for my bed.”
Leah watched him leave. He barely moved as the servants lifted his chair and carried him out of the room with stately elegance.
She sensed Venetia’s angry glare, but that didn’t bother her. Not as much as the knowledge that all these years, her mother had known.
Leah escaped upstairs using the excuse that Ben needed her. It was half past twelve. She was exhausted. The night had taken its toll.
A fire burned in the hearth. It was the bedroom’s only light, making it seem a safe place to hide.
The door opened. She sensed Devon’s presence even before he spoke. “Tired?”
She shook her head. “Don’t pretend it didn’t happen, Devon. All my life, I’ve had people around me pretending. We can’t pretend anymore.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t look at him.
“Leah, it wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s my family, Devon. People will never forget what happened here tonight.”
“Leah, family is important, but each of us is separate and apart. Your mother’s actions are no reflection on you.”
“She murdered your parents.” The sound of those words made her shudder.
“Murder is too harsh a word. She cheated, and her actions had tragic consequences. She didn’t intend for my parents to die.”
“So you think it is all right?” she lashed out and immediately wished she could call the words back.
“No. But I also don’t believe you are your mother.”
There it was. She lifted her head and looked at him. “I idolized her, Devon. Even when I knew she was being unreasonable or wrong, I tried to please her. It was only when she threatened Ben that I knew I had to run away—and I was still so eager to forgive her.” She broke down crying.
Devon rubbed her back. “Your mother is a weak person, Leah. She wanted things that maybe she couldn’t have. I’m not making excuses for her behavior, but people do reprehensible things out of jealousy and greed.”
“Like wanting to destroy your own grandchild?”
He didn’t answer. There was no answer for it.
“Oh, Devon.” She turned to him, needing his arms around her. They embraced. “Do you know what the worst part is?” she asked in a low voice, her face against his neck. “It is that perhaps if it hadn’t been Tiebauld they wanted me to marry, I might have let her take my baby. I think about that often when I’m holding Ben in my arms. I was tempted, Devon. Tempted. I wanted to please her that much.”
His answer was half laugh, half sound of exasperation. “Leah, you made your choice. Don’t second-guess yourself. You did what you were meant to do. Otherwise, I would not have found you.”
The fear, hurt, and anger balled up inside of her slowly began to relax. “There will be a dreadful scandal.”
“No,” he corrected, “there will be the rehashing of old scandals. But they can’t touch us. We are not our parents. You are no more your mother than I am my autocratic grandfather. We are something better, something finer.”
“Why is that?”
“Because we’ve already come to grips with what is important in life. I’d take you and Ben over titles or drafty old houses in desperate need of modernization—”
His words made her smile.
“—It isn’t money either. I had money, but when I thought I’d lost you, I was miserable.”
“I don’t know if I will be able to see my way through this without your confidence.” She gave a watery smile. “And your love.”
“We will face whatever happens side by side.”
“You are still going to tell your grandfather about Ben tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.”
“It could cost you your birthright.”
“I can live with that.” He paused. “But I can’t live without you.”
Leah pressed her lips against his. At last, she released the doubts, the remorse. This kiss was gentle and yet demanding. It was a promise, more binding than wedding vows or the symbol of the ring on her finger. She would always be beside him.
Devon drew her to her feet. Slowly, he began undressing her. She pushed his coat off his shoulders and began untying the knot at his throat. There was intent purpose in their tasks.
As her dress fell to the floor to pool around her feet, he rubbed his palms back and forth across her shoulders. “I love the smoothness of your skin.”
She placed her hand against the wall of his chest. “You are hard where I am soft. Strong where I am weak.”
His hand covered hers. “You are a piece of my soul that I have been missing.”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his chest where his heart beat. She could feel his blood race in his body. She rubbed her cheek against his muscles and the soft hair. “A piece of my soul,” she repeated. “Yes, that is what we are to each other.”
“And no amount of scandal can make us separate.”
The fears and burdens of her family. Together they made a whole. He was her family.
She raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him, offering herself fully to him.
They didn’t waste time. Devon’s eagerness was obvious. She pushed the satin knee breeches down over his hips. Her fingers brushed along naked skin. “Do you ever wear smallclothes?” she asked, laughing.
“Never.” He guided her hand to where he was already hard and strong for her. Velvet and steel…but no longer something to dread. Her fingers studied the line and shape of him, circling the tip.
His reaction delighted her. He covered her hand with his. “Gentle, Leah, or we’ll be done before we start, and I have plans for you. Big plans.”
“I could think of nothing else all day.”
She slipped her arms up around his neck. Her breasts pressed against the fine hair of his chest. She could feel it even through the fine lawn of her chemise. His bold arousal jutted against her flat stomach. They would fit together now. He would shove himself into her. There would be pain.
She must have involuntarily flinched, because he chided softly, “No, not yet. You are not ready.”
“Ready?”
“Remember how it was yesterday. It will be better today,” he promised, and she relaxed.
He lay her back on the bed, untying the tapes of her petticoats. He pulled th
em off and then rolled her stockings, garters down over her legs, his lips following their path.
Leah shivered with anticipation, remembering the sensations those lips had inspired last night. He finished one leg and then the other, and all she could do when he was done with her was purr with satisfaction.
“Am I ready yet?” She wore nothing but the thin, almost transparent material of her chemise.
His teeth flashed in his smile. “Almost.”
He finished undressing then, glorious in his nakedness. She propped herself up by her elbows, focusing on his arousal. She had seen the tip of Draycutt’s stick. It had appeared red and overeager. Devon’s was magnificent. Bold, proud, masculine. “You are beautiful.”
He laughed, pleased by her compliment as he stretched out on the bed beside her. She couldn’t stifle a small moue of anticipation, which turned to a soft cry as, without preamble, he covered her breast with his lips. The heat of his mouth, combined with the damp material, made her blood sing.
He took his time with each breast. She reached out, needing to touch him. Her hand found the muscular curve of his hip and traced the hard lines of his thighs.
He nudged the strap of her chemise aside. First one, then the other. His mouth followed the trail of her clothing, and as he lowered the delicate material over her breasts, his tongue flicked the sensitive points.
He knew her body better than she did herself. She arched up against him, wanting more. Daringly, she traced the path up the inside of his thigh until she could stroke and caress his hard length.
Now it was Devon’s turn to be ensnared, to be teased and coaxed and loved. He thrust himself forward, giving her full access—and she took it.
His hand slipped between her legs. His fingers teased her, creating the same magic she had discovered only the day before. He touched that sweet spot that seemed to paralyze her with pleasure.
Her legs opened, granting him further access.
Devon kissed her neck, brushing her hair back with his tongue. “I’m going to enter you, Leah,” he whispered. “If I do anything you don’t like, you have only to say so and I will quit.”
The movement of his fingers had robbed her of the power of speech. She could only nod, and then caught her breath as his fingers moved even lower. She felt them slip inside.
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