Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (31 page)

“For me not having you thrown in the goal.”

“For what? Doing my job, hell doing yours as well?”

“You really need to curb your tongue.”

He was not about to. “I think it has been curbed enough. I have given so many years to you and the Crown. In return, you use her, not once but twice as a pawn. Bait.” He struggled to stay calm.

“We do it all the time.”

That was part of the main problem. “Not with Jo. Not anymore.”

“The Alchemist was not among those you killed. Anthony is not talking. So it is still out there, she has seen his face. If he is as we have suspected, a member of peerage, he would not want to be identified.”

He half rose from his seat. “I will kill
anyone
who poses a threat to her.” The words were low as they rumbled from his chest.

“I have another assignment for you.” Jack watched him with an unblinking stare.

“Forget it.”

One brow rose. “What do you mean?”

“Until that bastard is dead I will be with Jo. Assign someone else.”

“I want you. We will keep Jo safe.”

“Too bad. And I do not believe you. Because of you, she has almost lost her life. Twice.”

“What about you?”

He swallowed the sourness in his mouth. She had almost died with him too. She did not. But the chance had presented.

“I stay with Jo.” He left the seat and headed for the door.

“This was not a request or suggestion, Lord Wilkes.”

Trystan never slowed, just let himself out and strode up the hall. A holler from Jack had two men blocking his way.

“Call off your dogs, Jack. One chance.”

“You cannot defy orders, Trystan. They will not let you leave. Not until you realize you have another job to do.”

He stilled the cane and stared at the large men glowering at him.
I do not have time to waste here.

Trystan struck fast and quick with no warning. The cane whirled and struck like a predator. Both men were on the floor unconscious within the blink of an eye. Stepping over them, he opened the door.

“I am out. Next ones you send after me will die.” He walked out, closing the large door behind him, only to draw up at the black coach before him. The coat of arms emblazoned on the side, familiar.

“Come inside.”

He did as bade and entered Duchess Haversham’s carriage. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Lord Wilkes.” She thumped the roof and waited until they were moving before she continued. “Jack wants to send you away.”

“I am not going.”

She chuckled wryly. “Of course not. I have always liked you, Wilkes. Even as a lad, you had a sense of honor most did not. Both you and Colin. When you walked back into Society at my ball I knew you still had it. Jo is a friend of mine. We have spent many hours together talking. I find her extremely intelligent and you would do wise not to dismiss what she says because she is not a man.”

He thought about Jo’s claim that The Alchemist was a woman. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want her safe. You are the only one, other than Najja, who she trusts so much.”

He was not so sure anymore.

“There is a little girl we brought back. Nine or ten. Italian. We need to find her parents.”

“Her name?”

“All she says is Vittoria.”

“I will see what I can find out. You keep them safe.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“I want grandchildren.”

Even though it was dark inside and he could not see her, he stiffened and sat straight up. “Excuse me?”

“I have no children, Lord Wilkes. Therefore, I will have no grandchildren. Jo is like my own.”

He rubbed his temples. “And you wish me to pass along to her that you desire her to produce children for you?” He hated the thought of her carrying any man’s child. Other than his own of course.

“Asking her to marry you first may be more prudent.”

Of course, it would. “I am not the marrying kind.”

Crack! Her cane smacked his shin and his eyes watered from the pain.

“Sorry, dear boy. Cannot see a thing in here.”

Yeah right. He would bet anything she had known precisely where his leg was. “Not a problem.”

“Good. Now as I was saying, grandchildren, or in your case, children should be after marriage.”

Marriage. More than that, marriage to Jo. She would be a viscountess. She would be his. Heat flickered through him at the thought of having her in his bed every single night. Theirs would be no marriage like his parents who had separate rooms and beds where he would sneak over when he craved an encounter with her.

Not a chance. They would share a room. Wait. What was he thinking? He was not any good for her.

“I am sure she will marry soon.” He struggled to keep his voice calm.

The coach dipped and swayed, he grabbed the edge of the seat to right himself.

“True. Perhaps that Callum Blackwood.”

He went rigid as anger surged through him. “Not bloody likely.” His staunch refusal escaped on a deadly growl. On the other hand, he was curious about something. “How do you know about him?”

“My dear boy. I have known him since you were three years of age. He looks familiar does he not?”

He had just about had it with cryptic talk. “Your Grace, I am tired and in a bad mood. If there is something I should know, tell me, I need to be focused on other things.”

“I am not Jack, Wilkes. I will not put up with your surly attitude.” She rapped on the roof and they stopped. “Get out if you so wish it.” He did not move. She thumped again and they began rolling. “Thought not.”

He ground his jaw and struggled to keep his response to himself. This was not a good combination. He was exhausted, worried about Jo, and not in the mood for games.

“What do you know of your father?”

He blew out a breath. “He was a lout, gambler, and an abusive drunk.”

“He was that and more. Callum Blackwood is more than a man who looks like you. He is related to you.”

The carriage halted again and the door opened. He did not move, just stared at her pale face illuminated by the light near the opening. Duchess Haversham did not move either.

“Leave us for a moment.” The man dipped his head and backed away, leaving the lantern by them.

“Do you care to explain what you mean by that?”

She tugged on her gloves before she met his gaze head on. “You have a half-brother.”

“How do you know this? Even were I inclined to believe you, which I am not.”

“I have been doing this, what you do now, for longer than you have been alive, Trystan Wilkes. I know a lot of things.”

He ignored that for the moment. “You were telling me about my
brother
.”

“Your father was seeing a woman just over the border. However when she became pregnant, he left her there alone in Scotland. She came back to England after Callum was about two and married Blackwood.”

“How do you know this?”

“Blackwood worked for the Crown as well.”

“As does Callum?”

“No. Callum is too much of a gypsy to allow another to run his life.”

“Like Jack.”

“Exactly. This job, this
life,
will consume you if you allow it to. I wanted children but the time was never right. There was always something else which needed to be done. When I married the duke it was not for love. I was doing what was asked of me. Your father was a bastard, no doubt, but he had a family. Jack will use you up until you have nothing left to give if you allow him to.”

Staring at her in the flickering light, he understood. “You still love him so why are you telling me such things?”

“I have seen the way you two watch one another. And I actually like each of you.” She leaned forward capturing his hand. Her grip surprisingly strong. “There is more than what you see, Trystan. Do not become a wastrel like your father nor allow this life to completely run you.”

“Jo would be in danger.”

She released him and sat back. “If a woman wants something another has they will always be in danger. One day these idiots will realize how special she truly is. How are you going to handle seeing her on the arm of another? You need to decide what is more important, The Alchemist and revenge or Jo Adrys and happiness.” She settled back. “You may leave now.”

Mulling over her words, he alighted from the carriage. He blinked as he realized where they were. Sure, they were at her place but what amazed him was the footman holding Ptolemy’s reins.

“Thought you might want him back.”

He moved to his stallion and rubbed the broad head, receiving a whicker in response. “Thank you.”

“Your things are on him. As are Jo’s.” Duchess Haversham appeared beside him. “Her sketchbook as well.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

He bent over her hand then swung up into the saddle. With a nod, he rode off up the street to his own townhome. Ensuring Ptolemy was settled, he carried his items in. It was too late to call on Jo, however sneaking into her room had merit.

Her sketchbook fell from his bag and he bent to pick it up, the leather cover well worn, and after only a moment’s hesitation did he occupy a seat and flip it open. She had always been so protective of this he wanted to see her work. The one time he had asked she tossed him one of her father’s books. Now he had the opportunity.

Flowers occupied the first few pages, amazingly intricate and detailed. A couple of landscape drawings were next. Each page he turned, his amazement at her talent increased.

Toward the back, he caught a glimpse of two pages amongst the emptys that had marks on them. He opened the book wide and found himself staring at his own likeness. On one side, she had drawn his face, down to the scar. His drawn image stared beyond him, sight set on something only the artist knew.

She had captured him. Incredibly well. Focusing on the right side, he found she had done a full body version of him. He recognized the surroundings. It was the day he had been at her place near Scotland. Before she had been taken. She had drawn him shirtless, the detail such that the scar—she had given him—sat there on the paper as well.

Right there, he realized how she saw him. She was a woman who did not avoid staring at his face or scar. She did not want him for his title or money. But she “saw” him where no one else did. Or had.

“Jo.”

He was tempted to tear the drawings out so he could keep them. Instead, he put her book in his things he would take with him. His night was mostly quiet and restful, only waking twice. Late morning had arrived when he made his way to the townhome the Adrys’ used. Standing on the steps, he noticed the trees and plants. Autumn was coming.

“Yes my lord?” The butler opened the door a crack.

“I need to see Miss Adrys.”

“Sorry, my lord. She is unavailable.”

He narrowed his eyes. Really? Games? Now? “Tell her Lord Wilkes is here.” He had not even brought any cards of his.

“I know who you are, my lord. She is not here.”

“Where is she?” He ignored his mix of uncertainty and jealousy.

“I cannot say.”

Stepping close, he lowered his voice. “I suggest you remember.”

“Threatening me will do you no good. I do not know where she went. She did not see fit to inform me.”

“Let me talk to someone who does. Vittoria perhaps.”