Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone Sheriff\The Gentleman Rogue\Never Trust a Rebel (36 page)

‘You think Whitechapel a hovel and Edward Stratham beneath a gentleman because of it.'

‘No, I think Whitechapel a cesspit and Stratham the vilest of its villains.'

They stared at one another.

‘He is not what you think him, Emma.'

‘Whatever he is, Devlin, he is a better man than you.'

The words seemed to echo in the room between them.

‘I am sorry that it has come to this, Devlin.'

‘So am I, Emma.' He looked at her for a moment longer. ‘So am I.'

He bowed and walked away leaving her standing there.

* * *

‘Well?' Lady Lamerton was standing in the doorway, with her eyebrows raised in expectation of the news.

‘He asked me to marry him.' Emma felt dazed.

‘I knew it!' Lady Lamerton crowed. ‘Many congratu—'

‘I refused him.'

‘You did
what
?'

‘I refused him,' she said and sat down in the chair.

‘Are you run mad, Emma?'

‘Perhaps,' she said. And maybe she really was. She had refused Devlin and stoked his ire. And for all her justifications and moral high ground, she knew they were all just excuses. She knew the real reason she was jeopardising her position and risking Lamerton's assistance in locating Kit. She felt numb from what she had just done.

‘Devlin is heir to an earldom. He is one of the wealthiest men in London. His mother is from a banking dynasty. And you are—' Lady Lamerton stopped herself just in time and sat down, clasping a hand to her forehead.

‘A penniless companion,' Emma continued for her. ‘Whose family name has been marred by scandal.'

‘You are a young lady who holds too much against him, is what I was going to say.'

‘Both are true,' Emma admitted. ‘But given the part that Devlin played in my family's history, he and I really would not suit.'

‘I think, Emma Northcote, that is a decision you will regret. And if it has anything to do with Edward Stratham then you would do well to think again. I saw you talking to him at Lady Misbourne's card party. Using him to bring Devlin to offer was one thing. But this is something else. Rest assured Stratham will have his eye on bigger fish than you, Emma, I thought you understood that. I am not unaware that young women are attracted to men who are, how shall I put it—rugged, untamed and rather dangerous. A rogue can set a lady's heart a-flutter. I was once young myself, hard to believe though it is. But trust me when I tell you that whatever else you might imagine, what Stratham wants from you is not marriage.'

* * *

Ned stood by the empty grate of his study in the mansion house in Cavendish Square. Rob sat in one of the nearby wing chairs.

‘You'll have heard the whisper that Devlin proposed marriage to her and she turned him down,' Rob said.

Ned gave a nod. ‘I've heard.'

‘Because of you?'

‘She loathes Devlin. She blames him for what happened to her brother,' Ned said, not answering the question. He let the words lapse into silence. ‘I'm going to tell her. The truth. Of who I am.'

‘Why?' Rob stared at him as if he had had a brainstorm. ‘Have you gone mad?'

‘I love her, Rob.'

His friend stared at him. Had never heard him say such a thing about anyone ever. ‘I did not realise.'

‘Neither did I. Until I had to sit down at that card table opposite her.'

‘Hell!' Rob whispered.

‘Yes,' agreed Ned. ‘It was. It is.'

‘If you tell her, you're risking everything.'

‘Misbourne is signed in. He won't pull out.'

‘And the rest of it? Everything else?' Rob shook his head. ‘You could lose it all.'

‘Then so be it. I am done with the charade. I cannot marry another woman. Nor can I sit back and watch her marry another man. I love her!'

‘But if you tell her...you will lose her.' Rob looked in pain.

‘And if I don't tell her, how can I be with her?' Ned shook his head. ‘How can I ask her to wed me?' He knew what his friend was saying was right, but he knew, too, he had to do this. ‘She has a right to know the truth. To make her own informed choice whatever that choice may be. I will not hoodwink her. I will not lie to her. Let the cards fall where they will.'

Rob glanced away. ‘At the end of the day, she's one of them, Ned.'

‘She's not what you think her. She's one of us, too.'

Rob shook his head. ‘Have you thought about this? About what it will mean?'

‘I have thought about nothing else for days.' He looked at his friend. ‘I'll tell her tonight. There's a dance at Colonel Morley's. Lady Lamerton's name is on the guest list.'

There was a small silence during which Rob digested the enormity of what was about to happen. His face was pale.

Ned took the piece of paper from the top drawer of his desk and handed it to Rob. ‘You've been a good friend to me, Rob. Whatever happens tonight...you'll be all right.'

‘Thank you, Ned.' Rob slipped the cheque into his pocket.

Ned lifted the bottle of gin from where it sat ready on the drum table between them. Poured them both a drink. ‘Dutch courage,' he said and sat down in the leather wing chair opposite Rob's.

Rob accepted the drink with thanks. He hesitated, then asked, ‘You said that you love her. Does she love you?'

‘I believe she thinks she does.'

‘I'm sorry, Ned. I never imagined...'

‘Neither did I.'

They lapsed into silence. Sipped their gin from the engraved cut-crystal glasses in the splendour of the mahogany-lined study.

Because they both knew that Emma Northcote would not love him once he told her the truth.

* * *

Emma heard the stifled whispers about her and Devlin the minute she walked into Mrs Morley's ballroom and knew that it had been a mistake to tell Lady Lamerton. She ignored the gossip and concentrated only on Lady Lamerton's conversation with Mrs Morley, Mrs Hilton and Lady Routledge. But the too-frequent flicker of their eyes across the ballroom warned her. She glanced across the room and saw Ned and his steward talking to Mr Dale.

The footman passed Emma the note surreptitiously as he brought the tray of lemonades across to the party of ladies. Slid it into her hand beneath the cover of tray as he offered the drinks.

She opened her mouth to ask who had sent it, but the footman was already weaving his way through the crowd. With the sudden race of her heart she thought that she already knew the answer.

Emma slipped the note straight into her pocket before anyone could notice. Her eyes found Ned's across the room. She felt the power of all that bound them together squeeze her heart, felt it twist and tug against the chains in which they were trying to confine it, felt it roar for release.

Inside her pocket the letter seemed to quiver and vibrate. She knew whatever he needed to tell her must be important for him to risk sending a note.

Their eyes held a second longer across the ballroom. His expression was intense, serious, watchful. His brows lowered. She felt her stomach tighten with worry.

She turned away, bent her head to Lady Lamerton's ear and whispered her excuse.

Lady Lamerton did not stop listening to the story Lady Routledge was relating. Barely glanced in Emma's direction. Gave a nod of her head to Emma to show that she was giving her permission.

Emma glanced at Ned again. Then she made her way from the ballroom.

Out in the hallway she stopped behind a large display cabinet and retrieved the note. The paper quivered in her hand as she opened it and skimmed her eyes over the few dark strong words written there. Her eyes widened. Her heart gave a stutter.

The note was not from Ned, but she did not even question the instruction written within it. Emma slipped it into her pocket and, with a deep breath, stopped a passing footman and asked him the way to Colonel Morley's study.

Chapter Thirteen

‘T
he development of the site has started just as you required,' Mr Dale was saying by Ned's side.

Ned watched the footman slip Emma the note. Watched her pocket it with equal stealth. Her eyes moved to his. Held, before she turned away and whispered something in Lady Lamerton's ear. Dale's voice was still talking.

‘Good. Keep me informed of its progress. If you will excuse me, sir.' Ned's eyes followed Emma as she left the ballroom.

* * *

The curtains had been drawn within the study. A single branch of candles had been lit, its soft flickering glow the only point of illumination in the darkness.

He was standing by the fireplace, staring into the blackened grate, a half-empty glass of brandy in his hand. Waiting.

‘Devlin,' she said and closed the door softly behind her.

* * *

‘A word, if you please.' Ned collared the footman behind the column in the corner of the ballroom, the same footman who had passed Emma the letter, and pressed a Bank of England five-pound note into the man's palm.

The footman pocketed the money. ‘For that you can have any word you like, sir.'

‘The name of the person who gave you the letter for Miss Northcote.'

‘That would be Lord Devlin,' said the footman. ‘Saw him heading for Colonel Morley's study.'

Ned pressed another banknote into the man's hand and set his untouched glass of champagne down on the footman's tray.

Ned's face was grim as he made his way from the ballroom.

* * *

Within the dimly lit study Devlin made no move. He did not so much as glance round.

Emma walked closer.

‘You said you had news of Kit.'

But Devlin still stood where he was. Gave no reaction, as if he had not heard her. Not until she walked right up to him. She could see the way he was staring at that grate, with such a dark brooding look upon his face that made her dread that the news was the worst.

‘Devlin?' she said softly.

He finished the rest of the brandy from the glass in a single gulp. Set the crystal down on the black-marble mantelpiece with a thump. And finally turned to face her.

‘I lied,' he said.

She stared at him. ‘I do not understand... Why would you send me that note saying—?' She stopped as the sinking realisation hit her.

‘I see you do understand after all.' He did not smile. Just looked at her. ‘That I wanted to get you here alone.'

‘How despicable of you to use my brother's name to do so. Especially after your role in his downfall.'

Guilt flashed across his face. He looked away. And when he looked at her again there was angry cynicism in his eyes. ‘No one put a pistol to his head and forced him to the gaming tables.'

‘Maybe not. But he was a boy and you and the others, men of the world that he looked up to, you led him astray.'

‘Kit was no child, Emma. He was a foolish man, but a man nevertheless. A man who made his own choices. And one who has to face the consequences of his actions. As all men do, Emma.' There was guilt in his eyes, heartrending and obvious before he hid it once more. ‘You cannot blame others in his stead.'

‘I am not a fool. I know my brother was not blameless. He gambled the money, after all. But you and the others let him stake his last penny. You let him stake it all. You should have stopped him, Devlin. You were supposed to be his friends!'

‘We were his friends.' He gave a cold mirthless smile. ‘We still are.'

‘Spare me the pretence.'

‘As you insist.'

The silence pulsed between them. His eyes held hers with cool determination.

‘If you will excuse me, Lord Devlin.'

‘I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave.'

His words stroked a shiver of fear down her spine, but she regarded him with disdain to hide it. She calmly turned to walk away, but Devlin's hand caught her arm and held her firm.

‘You should not have turned me down, Emma.'

She felt the dread slip into her blood like a single splash into a still, deep pool. She looked pointedly at where his hand held tight to her arm, then raised her eyes to meet his, feigning a calm confidence she did not feel.

‘What are you doing, Devlin?'

‘Whatever I have to.' His voice was soft in contrast to the hard determination in his eyes.

Fear drummed loud and insistent through her heart. She tried to pull free, but Devlin's grip was unbreakable. She ceased her struggle and conserved her energy. Faced him boldly. ‘What do you mean to do, Devlin?'

‘Save you from Stratham.'

She gave a cynical laugh and shook her head.

Devlin did not smile. His expression was cold, un-amused, frightening.

She glanced again at where his fingers were locked around her arm. Then looked into his eyes with derision. ‘And
you
lambast
him
for not being a gentleman?'

‘Sometimes the end justifies the means,' he said quietly and pulled her close. So close she could see the striations in those dark eyes of his and feel his breath warm against her cheek.

Her heart was thudding so fast she felt sick. She tried to resist, but he was too strong. ‘Do not do this, Devlin,' she said. ‘Please.'

He swallowed, glanced away, then back again. ‘Just a kiss, Emma. Nothing more, I swear. Do not be afraid.'

He slid an arm around her waist. As he shifted his grip, she managed to break free and began to run, but he grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her back to him.

‘No! Do not!' She fought him, but he was too tall and powerful.

He pulled her into his arms once more, holding her there as he looked into her eyes. ‘I am sorry, Emma,' he said before his mouth closed over hers.

She kicked against him, fought harder. But none of it made any difference. All she knew was his overwhelming strength and the smell of his cologne and the possession of her mouth by his and a raging fear and anger at what he was doing.

She was struggling so hard she did not hear the opening of the study door. But Devlin did. He released her so suddenly that she stumbled back against the fireplace wall. She stayed there, her spine pressed against the wallpaper. She was breathing hard, shaking with shock and panic and fight. Devlin stood where he was facing her, his eyes cool and focused upon hers. But she was not looking at Devlin, only at Ned standing there in the door frame. So silent and still and with a calmness that was a promise of something very different. He stepped across the threshold, closed the door with careful control. The quietest of clicks in the silence.

Only then did Devlin glance over his shoulder and the expression on his face changed, so that she saw it for the mask it was. Shock flitted in his eyes.

Ned's eyes held hers for a moment. She saw them drop to the neckline of her dress and only then did she realise that it had been ripped in the struggle. Something changed in Ned's eyes. Something so dark and dangerous slipped into them that it frightened even her. His gaze swivelled to Devlin. She had thought him powerful when he had fought Black-Hair in the Red Lion, and that night in the Botanical Gardens. But this was different. Everything of his stance. Everything of his being. The very air around him. All of it shimmered with a dark deadly promise. The quiet before the worst thunderstorm. The promise to death.

‘Ned.' It came out as a whisper. Husky. Broken. Part relief, part plea. ‘Stop. Wait. It is not...'

But her words died away as she realised that Ned was not listening. He did not shift his gaze from Devlin. And she knew in that moment that Devlin's fate was sealed. That Ned was going to kill him.

Devlin must have known it, too. He faced Ned. Tense. Moving ever so slightly. Ready to meet what was coming. Ready to fight for his life.

She saw the subtle gearing of Ned's body, the ripple and movement of muscles, the slight shift in balance, the honed deadly focus.

‘You've crossed a line from which there's no retreat, Devlin.' Ned's voice was low and quiet. ‘You may do what you wish to me. But Emma...' He shook his head.

Devlin stood his ground, a barrier between Emma and Ned. ‘I will not let you have her, Stratham.'

‘Step away from her.' Almost a growl.

Devlin shook his head. ‘I'll see you in hell first.'

There was a moment, just the tiniest moment of silence. And then everything exploded with a speed and violence and fury as Ned ran full tilt at Devlin. The collision seemed to reverberate through the room, but Ned kept on going, the force of the momentum carrying both men across the room to land with an almighty thud on the floor. Then fists were flying, punches landing hard, feet kicking, as the two men struggled and rolled and fought. A round mahogany table was thrown over, its crystal decanter and glasses crashing in a mess of broken glass upon the hearth. One minute Ned had the upper hand, the next it passed to Devlin.

‘Stop it, both of you!' Emma cried, but it was as a whisper against the roar of a hurricane. She could not even begin to get close.

Both scrabbled to their feet. The white of their shirts, cravats and waistcoats was speckled red with blood. Devlin's lip was burst. Ned's cheek was cut and the sleeve of his jacket was torn.

Devlin moved in fast, landed a blow in Ned's stomach, then, as he doubled over, Devlin let loose a series of punches to his face.

Ned staggered back.

Devlin came after him, with his fists.

Ned smiled. Caught Devlin's fist as it came again. Crushed it.

Like some kind of arm-wrestling game, the men's eyes held and their bodies strained motionless. Then Ned twisted Devlin's arm and slammed him hard face first into the wall. Devlin began to crumple, but Ned grabbed him by the neck, hauled him upright, put a hand round his throat. And squeezed.

‘Ned!' Emma ran to him. ‘Stop! Think what it will mean, for us both, if you kill him.' She laid her hand on Ned's arm and could feel how hard he was breathing. ‘Please, Ned. Do not do this.'

He slid his eyes to Emma's and in them was such love and fierceness that it took her breath away. Their gaze held for a second longer, then he gave a nod and returned his focus to Devlin.

‘If you ever touch her again, I
will
kill you. Regardless of anything else that is between us. Do you understand?'

Devlin's face was turning purple. He managed a gesture of agreement.

Ned released him and Devlin sagged, catching his breath.

‘Oh, Ned,' she whispered and only then realised that she was crying.

‘Emma.' Ned swept strong arms around her, moving her away from Devlin's reach.

He gathered her to him, held her. She could feel the hard beat of his heart, feel the strong pump of his blood, feel all that was between them; this warrior of a man who had saved her so many times; this man who would kill to protect her.

She tilted her face up to his, looked into his eyes, as his hand cradled the back of her head.

‘I am done with pretences. Things cannot go on the way they are, Emma. We must speak in earnest.' He caressed a thumb against her face. ‘But not here, not now. First things first. We need to get you tidied up and back to the ballroom before your absence is noticed.'

She nodded, knowing he was right.

But then the door opened and there was a woman's gasp and a man's guttural exclamation of shock. And she knew it was too late.

* * *

It was only when the study door opened to reveal Colonel and Mrs Morley, and Lady Lamerton, surrounded by Devlin's tight circle of friends, that Ned saw the expression on Devlin's face and understood what was
really
happening. What Devlin's intention had been. That Devlin had expected the little party's arrival, but not Ned's. He shot a hard glance across at where Devlin stood.

Emma was in Ned's arms, her face wet with tears, the shoulder of her dress ripped, her hair tumbling awry from its pins, her lips kiss-swollen. She looked like a woman who had been ravished. And even if she had not, it would not have mattered.

‘Good God, Stratham!' exclaimed Colonel Morley. ‘You have ruined her!'

‘No,' Emma began to say. ‘It was—'

Ned knew what he was going to have to do. His arm tightened around her waist, his eyes met hers in warning. He kissed the word she would have uttered from her mouth, hard and lusty, then released her and moved to stand in front of her, facing the men and shielding her from their view.

‘Guilty as charged,' he said. ‘If Devlin had not interrupted us...' He glanced at Devlin.

The viscount's eyes were dark and filled with loathing. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say.

‘Emma?' Lady Lamerton stared at her.

Ned's eyes met Emma's again, willing her to understand and say what she must.

Emma looked at Lady Lamerton and gave a nod.

‘Well, sir,' proclaimed Colonel Morley, puffing himself up. He began to walk to Ned, but stopped when he saw the look on Ned's face. Morley glanced around him for support. ‘Miss Northcote is a gently bred lady. There can only be one honourable outcome to this thoroughly dishonourable affair.'

‘There can,' agreed Ned. It was either him or Devlin. And there was no way he could give her up to Devlin; not when he felt about Emma as he did and most definitely not after what he had just witnessed. ‘I will wed her.' His face was grim.

Morley gave a nod.

There was a silence. He saw the dark expression on Devlin's face and those of Monteith, Fallingham and Bullford. Colonel Morley looked in a state of righteous indignation. Lady Lamerton looked shaken.

And Emma—she maintained a quiet dignity and poise, but he could see the relief in her eyes that it was him and not Devlin.

And something twisted in his gut, because he knew she would not be relieved if she knew the truth.

Destiny mocked him with her cold irony.

And he stood there and said nothing, to protect the woman that he loved.