Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (7 page)

They were using Jo as bait.

Chapter Three

I believe I saw Trystan, Lord Wilkes, today. He did not recognize or even see me, understandable, he has just lost his father and inherited his title of Viscount. Even the hint of him makes me recollect the night he kissed me. I remember it like it was yesterday. His lips on mine and how it made me feel. I have relived that moment a hundred times while awake and a thousand in my dreams since. I am waiting for a man to make me feel like he did.

~From the private journal of Josephine Adrys

Someone was out there. Jo could feel their eyes upon her. She continued to pace as her agitation grew. A rustle behind her brought her head up with a snap. Perhaps Clara had been right and she should not have come out here alone. She had just needed some time to herself. Another rustle and another. Her heart hammered before a man came into view.

Her uncertainty faded, relief replacing it. A feeling she pushed back with irritation. Lord Trystan Wilkes stepped into view. Her traitorous heart sang at seeing him again while her pride bristled.

He moved toward her with sinewy, leonine grace. Her tongue darted out and dampened her lips in a bout of nervousness. Why had he sought her out? She had not seen him since he demanded her to draw the design. That had been over a fortnight ago.

And you slapped him,
her brain chimed in.

“Out for a rendezvous, Jo?” he asked halting before her.

She could not seem to look away from the impressive figure he carved. His attire fit him perfectly and did nothing to hide his broad shoulders or lean hips.

“Lord Wilkes. I am surprised to see you here. After all the torrid stories I have heard about you, I thought for sure you would be out coveting some man’s wife.”

His eyes—which despite the night were a startling blue—narrowed before scanning the surrounding area. “Come.”

He clamped a hand on her arm. She could feel his heat through the fabric of her gown. Her stomach tightened and she had the urge to squeeze her legs together.

“Let me go, Tryst.”

With a forceful tug, he drew her in so they were chest to chest. The raw scent of him filled her nostrils and she dug her nails into her palms at the overwhelming need to touch him.

“For once in your life, Jo. Listen and obey.”

The edge to his words compelled her to do just that. She went with him but his strides were too fast and she stumbled. Jerking free of him, she bent over to inspect the sole of her dancing slipper. An object whistled by her and the next second Tryst had dragged her behind a statue.

“Stay here,” he growled.

“But—”

“Stay.” He vanished only to return moments later, a ferocious scowl on his face. “Move.”

The closer they got to the house, the more she slowed until he whirled around to face her. His face carved from stone.

“I will not be dragged through like a child, Trystan.” Beyond him, she spied Sara Marshall, a cold-hearted bitch who had never been nice to her. The blonde had her thin lips up in a cold, calculated smirk.

“Walk faster then.”

“Go to hell, Trystan. It is not easy to run in this stuff, much less when I lost the bottom of one shoe. My foot is cut so if it is all the same to you, I will walk at my own pace.”

His expression almost softened. Almost. But he did hold out his arm for her. Taking it, she made her way carefully up the lighted steps to the open ballroom doors.

“Josephine. Out with a man in the gardens. What must your parents think? Oh, right they probably hope you will be compromised and have to be married.”

Fury surged through her. “Oh, they do not care. Lord Wilkes is a family friend. I am surprised I did not trip over you lying out there…I mean run into you. It is dark corners where you like to hang out, right? Or am I mistaken?”

Sara scowled at her and Tryst led her away before more words could be exchanged.

“Hellcat.”

She kept her head straight even as his praise warmed her. For all her complaints about his use of that name for her, she enjoyed it. So lost in her own thoughts she did not realize he had led her over to Duchess Haversham until the imposing woman spoke.

“Wilkes. What are you doing with Miss Adrys? I thought she was here with Trenton.”

“I met her returning inside, Your Grace. She injured her foot.”

Sharp assessing eyes swung to her. “Why did you not say so sooner?” She rose. “Follow.”

One did not argue with Elizabeth Ashton, Dowager Duchess of Haversham, who preferred to be known as Duchess Haversham. Jo could feel others watching them but she concentrated on putting as little weight on her foot as possible. Soon they were in a private sitting room and she sat on a chaise while waiting for a maid to bring some bandages and water.

Tryst went to kneel before her and lift her skirt to get to her foot when he was smacked by Haversham’s cane.

“Ouch!”

“You get away from her skirts, Wilkes.”

Jo bit back her smile at his frustrated look before he stood. “It is not—”

“Do not argue. Get over here.”

The door opened after a knock and soon she had the housekeep looking at her foot. Trystan was away from her but remained for he had refused to leave.

“You will be all right, miss.”

“Thank you.”

Jo wanted to do this herself but a look from both Tryst and the duchess had her holding still. Another knock on the door had her craning her neck around to see who it was. Cam Trenton. A man she did not know followed him. Good looking but what interested her more was the increased tension in the room. Her gaze slid to Tryst, he stood off by himself, his face an unreadable mask, but she knew he was close to blowing.

“What brings you out of hiding, Jack?” Duchess Haversham asked in an icy voice, her long fingers flexing on the handle of her cane. “Never thought I would see the day you darkened my threshold.”

The man named Jack frowned then glanced at Jo. She sat up straighter and stared back. His head swung to Trystan.

“What did you think you were doing, Trystan?”

“Saving her life.”

Jo smiled as the housekeeper dropped her skirts and pushed to her feet. The bandage job was well done. Her attention went back to Tryst. What was he talking about? Saving whose life?

“You interfered,” Cam snapped, stepping toward him.

“Bullshit. You are using her as bait. Risking her life.” Trystan dug into his pocket and withdrew an item that he slammed on the desktop. “If not for her shoe malfunction she would be dead.”

Dead? That was not anything she wanted to hear. She limped to Tryst, ignoring the fact she only wore one slipper. Her gaze lingered on the item he had slapped down.

“Where did you get this?” Jack demanded, lifting the black and feathered dart.

Trystan met her stare and held it as he spoke to Jack. “It flew by her head and hit the statue we were passing. She almost died because Cam wanted a drink and let her go out there unprotected, only to follow after.”

It sank in. Cam had used her. Whirling she crossed her arms and glared at the marquess who had been around since Trystan left her home.

“You were using me?”

“Jo, I will handle this.”

“I will get to you, Tryst, after I deal with Cam.” She took a step only to be hauled back. “Damn it, Trystan. Let go.”

He tugged her against him and she leaned into him a bit. “Stop, Jo.”

“No.” She frowned at them all and jerked to stand at the edge of the desk. Three scowling men loomed around her and one calculating gaze of an old sharp woman. “Apparently my life is in danger and instead of not knowing, I want to know it all.”

“Stay out of this.” Jack frowned at her.

“You stay out of this!” she roared. “You have done enough.” All her attention fell to Trystan. She stared at him, unwilling to accept he would have let her be placed in such a predicament.

“Listen here, Miss Adrys.”

Her temper overran respect. “Was I talking to you? No!” She glared at the man named Jack.

“Enough!” Jack said forcefully.

Exactly. Jo had had enough. Staring at Trystan she shook her head, to angry to find words and went back to the chaise, and tried to slide her bandaged foot into her ruined slipper. It did not work so she went without it. By the desk the men argued but all she could focus on was someone had tried to kill her tonight. Trystan obviously knew the danger and yet he had left. And Cam, who she actually thought liked her, had merely been using her to trap this person. She wanted to yell at them all.

“Jo, come here.”

She glared at Tryst before giving him her back and limping to the door. The hand around her shoulder came as no surprise. Tryst had come after her.

“Do not touch me.”

“You, lady, hear me out,” Jack said from behind her.

“Why? You have an excuse for using me like that?”

Trystan guided her to a seat and pressed her in it. She crossed her arms and tapped her uninjured foot impatiently.

“This has to do with the design you made me draw, right?” Her gaze narrowed. “This whole blather about not wanting to scare me. You did not think I would not wish to know my life was in danger?” She directed her questions a Tryst, ignoring the rest. “Again?”

“Jo,” Tryst began.

It hurt her heart. Her father had done such a thing as well, not wanting her to know their lives were in danger. She had not liked it then and did so even less now.

“I am going home.”

“I must insist you stay.” Jack’s cold modulated voice made her grind her teeth.

“Mayhaps you should ask instead of ordering, Jack,” Duchess Haversham commented offhandedly, going to pour a drink. The duchess poured two for she carried one over and offered it to Jo. “Here child.”

Jo took it from her and paced her to a different seat where she followed the silent directive and sat once more. Away from Tryst.

“Stay out of this, Elizabeth.”

“I no longer work for you or the Crown, Jack. In addition, let us not forget this is my home. So remember some manners or get out, but I will not allow you to try and intimidate her.”

The Crown? She used to work for it? Trystan did? Jo’s mind whirled with all of this new information. Her fingers spun the glass containing some whisky, the amber liquid almost mesmerized her. Movement caught her attention and she refocused on Trystan, he stood near Cam, his expression broadcasting his displeasure. They argued as did Jack and the duchess.

Setting the drink down, she rose and gingerly made her way to the dart on the desk. Small and lethal she wondered what poison was on it. She was well used to seeing darts, having grown up in Africa she had seen them before. The thought reminded her that, once more, this was because no one had seen fit to include her. Again. Sourness filled her stomach and she dropped the dart, she had not even known she had picked up, and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you are going?”

She never slowed. “Home.”

A need to be by herself pounded her. Like before, she never got to the door. Cam halted her. Narrowing her eyes, she tore free of his hold. “I did
not
give you such allowances.”

He scowled, displeasure clear, then reached for her again. She wanted to lash out to cause him some of the pain he had caused her. Trystan’s voice intruded.

“Do not touch her.”

It seemed his voice had barely faded from the air when he had imposed his body between her and Cam.”

“I would not hurt her, Wilkes.”

“Touch her again and I
will
hurt you.”