by Jo Beverley
“The bargain is sealed.” He turned and walked away.
“No, it isn’t!” she yelled after him. When he gave no sign of hearing, she stepped forward as if to pursue, but what good would it do?
“No,” she repeated to the dim and now empty corridor, as if that might do some good. “No!”
She was betrothed to a Cave?
She’d just kissed a Cave?
She scrubbed at her tender lips. The Caves were villains and debauchers on every branch and twig of the family tree. Not long ago, one of them had raped and murdered a young lady in Mayfair. He’d died in Bedlam instead of on the gibbet because he’d been stark, staring mad.
Such a promise couldn’t hold, she thought desperately.
There’d been no witnesses. No one knew about it but him and her.
That felt despicable, but not in comparison to his lies and trickery. She should have known. She’d sensed something foul about him from the first.
But what should she do?
Fear could send her running back to her room to hide under the bed. She could plead illness, anything, so as not to return to the ball.
Where he could now be.
Heaven’s mercy, he might announce their betrothal in her absence. That would be preposterous for any other man, but he was a Cave!
Thea knew what she had to do. She sucked in breaths, struggling for control, poise, confidence—everything she’d taken for granted until minutes ago. Then she walked swiftly on, the same way he had gone, back to the ball.
Chapter 4
Horatio Cave, Viscount Darien, wanted to stop to think, to review, but some points in battle demanded unhesitating action. He’d won the prize he’d come here for. A greater prize than he’d imagined. He had only to grasp it.
He’d invaded the Duchess of Yeovil’s ball to acquire a highborn female ally in his campaign to make his family name respectable again. His quarry had been the Duchess of Yeovil herself. The opportunity had fallen into his hands when he’d heard the story about her son, Lord Darius Debenham. Make the mother grateful and she would be wax in his hands.
Perfect wax. He’d spent the day savoring the thought of the Debenhams as his tools. The family of the man he loathed would become his obedient tools. And Dare Debenham would have to acknowledge this in public, with half the world watching.
Just as he’d ruined a boy’s life, in public, with half the school watching.
Now it was even better. Instead of a mother forced to be gracious out of gratitude, he had a sister bound to pretend to love him. Sealed by a fiery kiss.
That kiss….
He realized he’d stopped, and within sight of the outer fringes of the ball. Music rippled out of the ballroom—a bouncing, merry tune for doubtless bouncing, merry dancers. Ahead, silk-clad people sparkling with jewels strolled and chattered, all supremely confident of their place in this, the heart of the inner circle.
Unaware of the enemy in their midst.
Not entirely unaware, alas. He’d been recognized earlier, when he’d been searching the ball for Lord Darius.
He’d hoped to avoid recognition by arriving late, but of course there were men here who’d known him in the army. Some of them might have been welcoming in other circumstances, but not here, where his name and title caused horror.
He silently damned his father and older brothers, his uncle and grandfather, and the whole line of Caves who’d lived up to the warning in their name, but then he blended with the ton at play, resuming his search for Debenham. He needed to get this done before Lady Theodosia recovered her wits. Once his part was played she’d find it harder to balk.
He entered the noisy, packed ballroom and stepped to one side so as not to block the door. His earlier search had failed, and he realized now that Debenham could be changed since the last time Darien had seen him, in the days before Waterloo. He’d been badly wounded since then and become an opium addict.
So now Darien looked for members of the Company of Rogues, that schoolboy clique from Harrow. Wherever the wreck of Lord Darius Debenham was, some Rogues would be hovering nearby. They prided themselves on taking care of each other.
He wished he’d thought of that before. Then, perhaps, he wouldn’t have been caught unawares by the sight of some of them and sent running into the quiet parts of the house.
He’d recognized Viscount Amleigh first. He’d encountered the stocky, dark-haired man in Brussels because Amleigh had returned to the army and had been sharing a billet with Darien’s friend Captain George Vandeimen. Unfortunately—Rogues sticking to Rogues—Debenham had been sharing the same rooms. That had meant Darien couldn’t spend as much time with Van as he’d wished. Another sin to the Rogues’ tally.
With Amleigh earlier had been an athletic, golden-haired man. It had taken only a moment to realize it had to be the Marquess of Arden, heir to the Dukedom of Belcraven, arrogant boy become man. He’d attended Harrow with his own retinue of servants.
The mythology claimed that the Company of Rogues had been created for mutual protection. Exactly why would Arden need that? No, it had been a gathering of an elite, too high and mighty to mix with lesser beings, and he’d hated their guts.
Along with Amleigh and Arden had been a man Darien recognized only by his distinctive hair, dark shot with red. Simon St. Bride, who’d recently become Viscount Austrey, heir to the Earl of Marlowe. Good fortune fell into the Rogues’ hands.
Observing the group of confident, relaxed men, the past had rushed back on Darien like a tide. Harrow. The worst time of a tough life. Because of the Rogues. Because, especially, of Lord Darius Bloody Debenham.
And so he’d run. It had been a calm, steady walk, but inside he’d been running as he’d once run at school, and he’d hated that. He hadn’t paid attention to where he was going as long as it was far away from people. When he’d discovered Debenham’s sister alone and vulnerable, he’d seen the opportunity for perfect revenge.
She’d proved to be more than he’d expected—braver, more quick-witted, and infinitely more passionate—though that bloodred dress had been a warning. But he’d captured her. Now all he had to do was find Debenham to clinch his victory.
Where in hell was he? This was his betrothal ball.
Suddenly, he thought to wonder, what if he’d already left? What if he was too frail to last this long? He should have found that out.
Poor preparation.
Poor intelligence.
Dammit. What to do now? He could still tell his story, but he wanted that face-to-face confrontation. He wanted to make Debenham eat his rescue out of Dog Cave’s hand.
Leave and come back tomorrow? He needed to do this before Debenham’s sister had a chance to block him.
The dance ended, the crowd shifted—and Darien saw him.
He almost laughed aloud.
Where was the addicted cripple?
Dare Debenham strolled toward the ballroom doors, smilingly intent on the lovely brunette on his arm, and she adoringly intent on him. He walked without so much as a limp, and if he bore scars, they weren’t visible. In fact, he looked fitter and stronger than before.
And completely happy.
He should have been christened Theophilus—beloved of God.
To hell with this. Darien turned to leave the room. Let’s see how long Debenham smiled with shame hanging around his neck.
But he made himself stop. He’d resolved to restore the Cave reputation for good reasons. To retreat now would be another victory for the Rogues.
Very well, a roll of the dice. If Debenham looked through him, pretended a Cave didn’t exist, or worse, reacted as if he were a leper at the feast, Darien would leave him to stew. If not, he’d play this out. He turned and stepped into the couple’s path.
Debenham blinked, clearly far away, and then he smiled politely. “Canem.”
Only Darien’s closest friends called him that—Canem Cave, a play on cave canem, “beware of the dog.” And that rocketed right back to schoolboy h
urt and rage. Damnable. Especially when Dare Debenham had been the one to make that cruel joke.
“Cave Canem,” he’d said, laughing, turning Horatio Cave into Dog Cave, leading to—
Enough. The dice had rolled and Darien must pay. He gave his enemy the good news. He even spoke to a couple of military men nearby, but he couldn’t linger more than that.
Darien fled the celebration and went straight to hell.
Chapter 5
Thea blended with the guests, smiling and hoping no trace of her inner mayhem showed. But she was alert for signs of drama or disaster. There was something, something discordant in the air.
What had that man done?
People only smiled and nodded at her, or paid compliments on the ball. If he’d announced the ridiculous betrothal, someone would have to say something. Wouldn’t they?
Had it been a trick? Had he terrified her for amusement? Was he now laughing about it with others?
Was he not even a Cave at all?
Hope flared, but shame quenched it. If it had all been a game, Dare would remain burdened.
She couldn’t bear not knowing. She wove through the guests, her smile feeling like a grimace, seeking Dare or Darien—what a silly confusion that was!—or anyone else who could tell her what had happened while she’d been away.
“Such a tragedy!”
Thea started and looked at the speaker, Lady Swin-namer. “What’s happened?”
“Your poor gown, Lady Thea! Quite, quite ruined, I’m sure.”
Thea almost said, “Oh, that,” in a manner that would have been bound to raise suspicions, and gaunt Lady Swinnamer was spiteful enough without fuel.
“Not quite ruined, I hope, but a great annoyance. Please excuse me, I must find my brother.”
“Lord Darius?” Lady Swinnamer cooed. “Not more trouble, I hope.”
Thea blasted a smile at her. “Quite the contrary,” she said and walked away, hoping the woman choked on it. Then she halted.
Had someone just said, “Cave?” in a shocked voice, a voice rising on the second syllable? A look around found only bland smiles. She was going mad! She had to find someone she could trust to speak plainly.
She continued on toward the ballroom, sure now of tension in the air. She looked to one side and a woman’s eyes slid away, perhaps with a smirk. She challenged a staring Lord Shepstone and the young man blushed. She kept walking, because to stop still in the corridor would give the onlookers even more to talk about, but she wanted to disappear down a hole in the floor. She had never in her life felt so uncomfortable in society.
She searched the dancers, seeing none of her family. She hurried on to check through the line of anterooms, each scattered with people. They smiled, but did some look at her oddly? She saw no one she trusted with this.
Then she spotted her cousin Maddy, typically enthralling three uniformed officers. Blond, buxom Maddy always enthralled, and she had a weakness for a uniform. But she also always knew everything that was going on.
Thea joined the group casually, but after a few minutes of chat she said, “Gentlemen, I’m going to break your hearts by stealing Maddy for a little while. Off you go, sirs!”
They took their congé with good grace, but Maddy wasn’t fooled. “What’s the matter?” she asked as soon as they were alone.
“I wanted to ask you the same thing. Did anything happen while I was away?”
“Away?” But then Maddy looked at her. “Why have you changed your gown?”
“Uffham spilled beetroot on me. Do you know where Dare is?”
“No. He was dancing not long ago. What on earth is the matter?”
Thea didn’t know what to say. Clearly Maddy knew nothing shocking, and she wasn’t ready to speak of private adventures.
“Uffham,” she said vaguely. “The gown. I thought some people looked at me strangely.”
“Not surprising with your stays peeping out.”
Thea glanced down and raised a hand to cover the disaster. So that had been it! She turned her back to the room and twitched the dress up again. “I should go and change.”
“Nonsense. It’s wickedly fetching.”
“I don’t want to be wickedly fetching!”
“Every woman wants to be wickedly fetching, and that gown should fetch. I wouldn’t have thought red would suit you so well. Madame Louise?”
“Mrs. Fortescue.”
“I must visit her, though I don’t have the figure for that clinging style. Alas, I must make do with bountiful.”
“Which you do all too well.”
It was meant as a warning, but Maddy grinned. “I do, don’t I? But you can’t complain. Men positively swarm you.”
“High rank and a large dowry ensure it.”
“I have both, but prefer to put my appeal to men down to my charms. Oh, Thea, don’t give me another Great Untouchable look!”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Then don’t act that way.”
Maddy and Thea were like sisters. Maddy’s father was an admiral and often at sea, so she, her brother, and her mother had spent a lot of time at Long Chart, the Duke of Yeovil’s Somerset estate. As with any sisters, sometimes there was discord. In this case it rose mainly from Maddy’s increasingly bold behavior with her coterie of officers and Thea’s attempts to restrain her.
“Did you hear that a Cave’s here?” Maddy asked.
Praying her high color was taken for alarm, Thea gasped, “No! Truly?”
Maddy’s eyes sparkled. “Deliciously alarming, isn’t it? The new Vile Viscount. Mother’s certain we’ll all be murdered or worse. But I ask you, is being raped worse than being murdered?”
“Maddy!” Thea protested, looking around to be sure no one was in earshot. “What does he look like?”
“I haven’t met him yet, but I’ve been on the hunt.”
“How can you hunt someone if you don’t know what he looks like?”
“Darkly demonic. That was Alesia’s description. He was pointed out to her and now she’s in a quake. Marchampton knows him,” she said, referring to one of the officers she’d been with. “Dark hair and eyes, he said. Foreign-looking because of an Italian mother. There won’t be many like that here, especially with horns, tail, and an odor of brimstone.”
“Maddy…”
Her cousin laughed. “Well, Alesia was so ridiculous. Cully adores him.”
“What?”
Cully was Lieutenant Claudius Debenham, Maddy’s brother.
“Desperate case of hero worship. Terrifyingly terrific and at times insane, he says.”
“That’s adoring praise?” But it seemed frighteningly accurate to Thea and wrecked any hope of the hellish encounter being a joke.
“They even call him Mad Dog,” Maddy said with relish.
“Good God….”
“He was wreaking his madness on the French, Thea! When did you become so chickenhearted?”
Thea pulled herself together. “Everything’s been a bit fraught this evening.” Now there was an understatement. “I must go and find Dare.”
“He has enough caretakers,” Maddy said.
Thea colored. If she’d niggled at Maddy over her behavior with officers, Maddy had niggled at her protective hovering over Dare. Thea knew that during her brother’s recovery she’d become obsessive, she and her mother both.
“I have reasons for needing to speak to him now,” she said.
Maddy’s eyes sharpened. “You have secrets. Tell!”
Thea said exactly the wrong thing. “No.”
Maddy grabbed her arm. “You do! What’s going on?”
“I can’t tell you. Not now, at least. It’s nothing really, but I have to find Dare. Just to make sure everything’s all right.”
“Very well, but I’m coming with you.” Maddy linked arms with Thea. “And keep a weather eye out for dark and demonic. I need to meet the dread Darien.”
The thought of Maddy involved with her attacker was terrifying.
They had only reached the door of the room when their way was blocked by a strapping blond officer in scarlet and gold.
“Did you hear?” Cully demanded gleefully, in a voice loud enough for a parade ground. “Dare’s cleared! Canem Cave says he saw him fall. No question about it.”
People around began to chatter.
“How extraordinary!” Maddy exclaimed.
“How wonderful,” Thea said, meaning it, but her heart suddenly threatened to choke her.
“Canem Cave?” Maddy asked. “Do you mean the Cave? Viscount Darien?”
“Who else? He says Dare was doing just as he ought,” Cully went on, deliberately making sure everyone heard. “Riding hell for leather with a message when a shot brought down his horse and he disappeared under a wave of hooves. Canem says it’s a miracle he survived.”
“Why Canem?” Maddy asked.
“From cave canem, I think,” her brother said.
“He’s called Dog?” Maddy asked and laughed.
Her brother flushed. “Not in that way. What a stupid creature you are, Maddy.”
“Well, really!”
Thea let squabble and exclamations swirl. She was immensely relieved on Dare’s behalf, of course, but what did this mean for her?
“Where is Lord Darien?” she asked, trying for a pleased, composed tone. “I’d like to thank him.”
“Have to wait,” Cully replied. “Said his piece, then left.”
“Left?”
“Rum, really. Arrived late, told his story to Dare and a few others, then disappeared. But you never know what to expect from Canem Cave. The House of Lords is in for a shake if he ever bothers to attend. Come on. Dare and his friends are celebrating over supper.”
Thea went to join the jubilant party at one of the outside supper tables set in the lantern-lit gardens. When she saw Dare’s unshadowed happiness, she was truly thankful and, yes, willing to pay the price if she had to. But as she accepted a glass of champagne for a triumphant toast, she buzzed with panic.
Lord Arden made a joke about the Cave name and there being nothing to beware of tonight. Someone else mentioned Mad Marcus Cave, the murderous one. Another said, “The Vile Viscount himself.”