The Bride of Devil's Acre (11 page)

An awkward silence settled over the threesome, Miss O’Brian smiling up at Marcus politely while Philip did his best not to appear eager to be off.

“Well,” Marcus said, his chest tightening. “I should let you be on your way. Miss O’Brian, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

“And you, my lord,” Miss O’Brian said, dipping another curtsy.

“It was good seeing you again,” Marcus said, offering Philip his hand. For a moment, he feared his friend might not take it.

Philip slipped his hand into Marcus’, his fingers trembling slightly at the familiar contact. The spark of that simple touch hit him in the chest and nearly stole his breath.
 

Marcus clasped his friend’s hand before forcing himself to let go. Philip nodded to him, shifting his cane to his other hand and slipping his arm around Miss O’Brian’s waist.

“Marcus.”

Marcus watched the couple start off, Philip studiously avoiding Marcus’ eyes as he passed. His steps were slow and obviously painful as he guided Miss O’Brian down the street and into a waiting carriage.
 

A moment later, Philip was gone.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jacqueline woke the morning after her wedding, the warm body in the bed beside her stirring restlessly. Reaching under the covers, Jacqueline found the purring kitten. Feline eyes opened sleepily, the animal giving Jacqueline a decidedly disgruntled look at having been disturbed.

“Hello, Cat,” Jacqueline said. She rubbed noses with the black kitten before snuggling her under her chin.

“You really should come up with a better name, my lady,” Emme said as she slipped into the room. The kittens purr rose from a low rumble to a steady drone.
 

Jacqueline smiled and allowed the cat to disappear back under the covers. The small mound made its way to the foot of the bed where she would no doubt spend the day hiding, at least until mealtime. “I suppose you’re right, but I find myself strangely uninspired at the moment.”

“What about Bartholomew?” Emme ducked into the dressing room and came back out with a grey dress.

“She’s female.” Jacqueline kicked back the covers. Her room was pleasantly lit and warm with morning sunlight.

“Beatrice?” Emme hung up the dress, giving it a once-over before turning to her mistress. “You could call her Betty for short.”

“Betty? For a cat?” Jacqueline wrinkled her nose. “I fear you’re not doing much better than I am.”

“At least I try, my lady. You’ve simply settled on Cat.”

“I haven’t settled.” Jacqueline sat down at her vanity, watching her maid in the mirror. “It’s a temporary name, just until I can come up with something better.”

“If you say so, my lady,” which was Emme’s way of politely disagreeing with Jacqueline.

“Is my husband up?”

“He is, my lady. He’s due to breakfast in half an hour. I thought you might like to get ready in time to join him.”

Jacqueline nodded. “I trust your first night went well?”

“It did.” Emme picked up a silver brush and started on Jacqueline’s hair. “It’s a small house, but everyone is friendly.”

“And your room?” Jacqueline closed her eyes at the pleasant feel of her hair being brushed.

“It’s very nice, bigger than the one back home.” The servants slept on the third floor, each with their own room. The benefit of a smaller staff, she supposed.

Jacqueline opened her eyes. “Are you still glad you came?”
 

Emme smiled. “I couldn’t very well let you go on your own.”

Jacqueline turned to her maid, capturing her hand in her own. “I’m serious, Emme. I know this isn’t the kind of house you were trained to serve in. I’m not sure there is a place for you back with my father, but I would be happy to see you set up in another house.”

Emme gave Jacqueline’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t be silly! I serve you, and you are a lady no matter where we are.”

Jacqueline searched her maid’s face. Satisfied, she turned back to the mirror.
 

Emme set the brush aside, sweeping Jacqueline’s hair up and securing it to the top of her head. “Besides, from what I gather from Dillon and Mrs. Thompson, this is a fine place to work.”

“Dillon is the butler?” Jacqueline asked, remembering Devil’s brief explanation.

“Yes.” Slipping the last of the pins into place, Emme gave the simple coif a gentle pat. “They’ve both been here for years, which speaks well of your husband. The pay is fair, and the work isn’t too much for the small staff.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jacqueline said, suddenly eager for breakfast and another look at her husband. With one last check of her hair, she stood and slipped out of her nightgown. A tug on her stomach drew her attention to the bandage covering her abdomen. Slowly, she peeled back the tape and stared at her stomach in the mirror.

The scars were red and puffy, the skin scabbed over. The flesh started to itch as she ran her fingers over the scars, tracing the lines of the symbols. What did they mean? She didn’t have anyone she could ask. Emme was the only other person who knew of their existence.

“They’re healing,” Emme said, softly.

“They’re ugly.” Jacqueline replaced the bandage and turned away from the mirror.

“They’ll fade in time,” Emme said, slipping the dress over Jacqueline’s head.
 

Jacqueline nodded, buttoning her bodice and tugging her sleeves into place. “It won’t matter,” she said, not looking at Emme. “No matter how much they fade, I will always know they’re there—a reminder of what he did.”

“A reminder of what you survived,” Emme said fiercely. “Don’t ever forget, my lady, you’re alive and he’s not.”
 

Jacqueline had told her maid enough that Emme knew the man who had attacked her was dead. But he hadn’t been working alone, and Jacqueline wondered what had happened to the rest of them.
 

Downstairs, Devil finished reading the note from Finn. The man knew better than to put details in writing. It didn’t matter that most of the people in Devil’s Acre couldn’t read. It wouldn’t do for any bit of information to fall into the wrong hands. Usually, the lack of information wasn’t a problem, but something in today’s note stirred the hairs on the back of Devil’s neck.
 

He’d left Finn, and Purgatory, in the early hours of the morning. After grabbing his usual four hours of sleep, Devil had woken that morning to find the note waiting for him. Another bad sign. It took a lot to raise Finn from his whore’s bed before noon, and Dillon indicated the note arrived with the morning edition.
 

“Good morning.”
 

Devil looked up, slipping Finn’s note into his breast pocket as his wife glided into the breakfast nook. “Good morning.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course.” Devil indicated the place to his right. The table was set, and breakfast laid out. “I don’t employ a footman, but I’d be happy to serve you.”

“Another one of those differences?” Jacqueline smiled as she took a seat. Designed to catch the morning light, the breakfast nook was warm and smelled of yeast and honey. “Thank you, but I don’t mind serving myself.”
 

Devil watched his wife. Her fingers were surprisingly slender, and her movements quick and efficient as she selected pieces of fruit and toast for her plate.
 

They ate quietly, a companionable silence filling the room. He was surprised, and pleased, to find that his wife seemed content in the quiet and didn’t feel the need to fill it with inane chatter.

“Did you sleep well?” Devil surprised himself by asking. It was strange having someone join him for breakfast, but not wholly unpleasant.
 

“I did.” Jacqueline bit into a juicy strawberry. “I didn’t hear you come in.” Not that she had been waiting, staying up past the time she usually retired.
 

“It was late, and I tried to be quiet.” Finished with his breakfast, Devil rose. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“You’re leaving?” Jacqueline’s spirits sank. She had hoped for some time to get to know her husband, this man she would be living with.
 

“I have business to tend to.” The letter from Finn was a heavy weight in Devil’s coat pocket. “Do you have plans for the day? Something to keep you busy?”

“I was thinking of going out, doing a bit of shopping.” Jacqueline hadn’t been out much since the attack. She was tired of being cooped up inside and needed some fresh air.

Devil frowned. It wasn’t a good idea for his wife to go out alone. Devil’s Acre wasn’t St. Giles, but it could be rough.

“I’d like my man to accompany you,” Devil said. “Why don’t you come with me to my office? He can escort you from there.”
 

“I’d like that,” Jacqueline said, curious about her husband’s business. “Give me a moment to fetch my things?”

“Of course,” Devil said. He wondered what his wife was going to think of Purgatory.

Devil left Jacqueline waiting in his office. They’d come in through the back door, bypassing the main room and the staff that was still cleaning.

Purgatory never closed, but even the most jaded of patrons had to sleep sometime. Either that or pass out.

Devil entered Purgatory from his office, striding past the bar and back out through the side door that led to the Petal & Thorn. It was a well-known connection between the two businesses, and the door was always guarded by one of Devil’s former fighters.
 

Letting himself in, Devil wasn’t surprised to find Lady Jade in her office, still up and making entries in the books.

“Where is he?” Devil demanded.

“Where do you think?”
 

Devil’s shoulders tightened. “Jesus, doesn’t he ever tire of that woman’s quim?”
 

“It’s an amazing quim.” Jade made another note in the books. They’d had a good night, but even a bad night for the Petal & Thorn was good by most brothels’ standards. “You should try it sometime.”

Devil didn’t bother with an response. He didn’t sample his whores. Mixing business with pleasure was, well, bad for business, especially when it came to the female of the species.
 

Taking the stairs two at a time, he stopped outside Annie’s room. A sharp knock didn’t seem to bother the sounds of fucking coming from inside, the moans and sighs reaching a crescendo as Devil waited.

“FINN!” Devil gave the door another pounding.
 

“WHAT!” Finished, Finn collapsed back onto the bed and slung one arm over his eyes. He was breathing like a blown horse, great gulps of air that filled his oxygen-starved lungs. The bed bounced, the springs giving a small squeak as Annie flopped down beside him, her perky tits glistening with sweat.
 

“Finn, if I have to come in there and end up with an eyeful of your white arse…”

“For fuck’s sake, Devil, can’t a man have a tumble without you barging in on him?” Finn rolled off the side of the bed and onto his feet. Striding across the small room, he ignored his pants, throwing open the door and grabbing the frame. “What is so bloody important it couldn’t wait another five minutes?”

Devil, hands on hips, took his time looking the man up and down.

“At least it’s not my arse.”

“I got your note.” Devil didn’t understand Finn’s fascination with the whore. Annie was cute; her blonde hair and blue eyes gave her a perpetual innocent look men seemed to like. A lot of men.

Annie was one of Devil’s best-earning whores with a steady stream of regulars that didn’t mind parting with a considerable sum of coin for an hour of her time.

Jade had said Annie had an amazing quim, and maybe Devil was missing something. He wondered if Jade was speaking from personal experience or word of mouth. Knowing Jade, it was the former.

Finn frowned, his lack of comprehension pulling his dark brows over his eyes.

“Jesus, Finn, you send a note saying there’s trouble and you can’t even remember what?”
 

“Oh, aye, I remember. It’s just enough to blacken my mood and take the shine off my post-coital glow. Jimmy and Tom were picked up last night; the coppers are holding ‘em down at the cages.”

Devil swore.

“Finny, you coming back to bed?” Annie had propped herself up on her elbows, running her foot up the inside of her calf. She gave her boss a welcoming smile. “You can come, too, Devil.”

Devil ignored the invitation, and the double entendre. “No, he’s not, and where’s Moose?” The two men were never far from each other. An odd pair until you realized Moose was slightly hard of hearing, and Finn talked too much.

“The big boy is down the hall with Carly,” Annie supplied. Giving up on the idea of another tumble, she pulled the blankets up over her shoulder and plumped her pillow beneath her head.
 

Devil’s eyes went from Annie to Finn. “You’re a bad influence on him.”

Finn, seeing Annie settle in for the day, groaned and gathered up his pants. “One can only hope.”

“Get Moose and meet me in my office. I’ll go with you to get the boys from the cages.”

“Moose and I can handle it.” Finn pulled up his pants, his shirt hanging open as he hopped into his boots.

“I’ve got something else for Moose.”

Jacqueline took a turn around her husband’s office. The room was a surprise of rich leather and aged wood. It stood longer than it was wide with a hearth at one end and an intricately carved ebony desk at the other. Bookshelves and tapestries circled the room, history written in the pages and depicted on the walls.

To her disappointment, Devil had left her to wait after bringing her in through the back door, avoiding the club and leaving Purgatory a mystery.

Jacqueline eyed the door through which her husband had disappeared. She’d caught a glimpses of the room beyond, enough to know that that way was Purgatory.
Just a peek
, Jacqueline thought, and took a step in the direction of temptation.

The door swung open then, and her husband strode in muttering. “Damn that man!”

Jacqueline jerked back, heart pounding at having almost been caught. Doing what, exactly? Taking a look? Surely that was not such a big offense as to warrant the blush she was fighting. It was only natural that she should be curious about her husband’s business.