Her head shot up, brows arched with her chin jutting forward stubbornly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Wilhelmina, we will be married. As for your ridiculous assumption that I am only wedding you for Marina’s sake, I need only remind you of what happened in my chamber just yesterday to combat that idiotic notion.”

  “Idiotic?” she snapped. “If your hope is to obtain my acquiescence, insulting me is hardly a manner I would recommend!”

  “I want you for my wife, Willa,” he said boldly and without any hesitation.

  “And your mistress? How will she… or should I say they? How will the bevy of women at your beck and call respond to such news?” Every word was bitten off in staccato manner, indicating just how far her temper had escalated.

  “I have no mistress. I have not had a mistress since Marina came into my life. The last one, if you must know, presumed that Marina was actually my child and pitched a tantrum equal to one of Marina’s before storming out of this very house. And I’ve had other things on my mind in the interim!”

  “Oh, so you simply haven’t had an opportunity to replace her yet? I see!”

  “No, you bloody well do not!” he snapped. It was the bark of his tone, the fact that he was almost yelling at her after what had been an impossible day for them both that brought him back to reason. Devil sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. In a softer and more conciliatory tone, he said, “I cannot change my past, Willa. But I can dictate my future actions. I vow that I will be a good husband to you.”

  “And a faithful one?” she queried, her doubt evident in her tone.

  “So long as that is your desire, yes.” It was a far easier promise to make than he would have thought. In truth, no other woman had ever held him in sway to the degree that she did. It had been boredom or convenience that had driven him to the arms of most of his former lovers. Only with Willa did he feel compelled to be there, to be solely with her. From the moment he’d first met her, it was as if all other women had ceased to exist. Of course, it was one of the first times in his adult life that he’d been sober enough to actually examine his feelings instead of simply moving from one vice to another to fill the emptiness of his life. It had taken that moment of clarity to understand what it was that was missing. “I have done many things in my life that I am not proud of, Willa, but I am a man of my word, and that is what I give you now. Marrying you is what I want. That it benefits Marina is simply a fortuitous turn of events… I cannot pretend that your relationship with my niece is not part of this. Had it not been for her presence here and my need of your assistance in reaching her, in helping her, you would have not entered my life, Willa, and I would not have seen what was missing from it. Can you understand that?”

  “You do not love me,” she said. “We barely know one another.”

  “I do not believe in love. Not in that way,” he said softly. “I believe in caring for a person. I believe in attraction and taking pleasure in a person’s company as well as in a more intimate fashion,” he said evenly, trying to highlight his very rational viewpoint on a matter that only ever seemed to bring irrationality even to the most staid of persons. “I also believe in honoring one’s promises to them… but romantic love is little more than a myth or a fairy story for children. It’s fine for little girls to dream upon. But in this very ugly world, it’s simply a thing used by those who have no appreciation of the truth so they might manipulate others and get what they want from them. You have only to look at my poor sister to see that.”

  Her answering gaze was a mixture of disbelief and pity. “I cannot marry you, Lord Deveril. Perhaps I will regret that choice one day but, for now, I cannot accept that the world is utterly devoid of love. I may never find it, but I do desperately want to believe, foolish as it may be, that it exists.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze caught somewhere between amusement and pity. Then it hardened, became serious and rather stern. “You’re forgetting one very important fact, Willa. Your future employability as a governess is dependent upon your retaining your sterling reputation… today’s events will tarnish it beyond repair.”

  “No one knows,” she protested.

  “Servants know. And no matter the house, the rank, or the repercussion, they gossip. Our neighbors know. And their neighbors will soon know if they do not already. You are already an object of curiosity to them because of my reputation. The fact that I was seen carrying you back into this house after your ordeal will not have gone unnoticed,” he stated firmly.

  He could see the desire to protest written plainly upon her all too expressive face. No doubt she wanted to rail at the unfairness of it all, but Miss Marks was nothing if not a realist. It was likely that half of Mayfair had heard Mrs. Farrelly’s wailing and all of them would have been on alert following the incidents with his guards in the mews. He knew the instant that she recognized the inevitability of her fate. It was not a joyous moment for him because he could see that it troubled her no small amount.

  “Oh, no,” she murmured. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of it. I must warn Effie. I cannot let the fallout from my situation taint the Darrow School—”

  “Miss Darrow will be fine. It will all be fine, Willa, if you only consent to marry me in earnest,” he implored. “It will make all of our problems go away and could be a very pleasant experience for us both.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, and she sent him a scathing, withering glance. “Do you mean the marriage or the marriage bed?”

  “Both, I daresay,” he answered levelly.

  The glaring truth of it all but smacked her face. What choice did she have?

  She took a deep, steadying breath and met his gaze directly and dispassionately. “I give my consent, Lord Deveril. I will be your wife.”

  He didn’t crow. The urge was there. Hearing her acquiescence, regardless of the reluctance with which it was uttered, was akin to victory in battle. “I’ll obtain a special license, the sooner the better, given recent events. When we are wed, the stakes for Munro will be much higher. He might have no qualms about harming a governess, or even my betrothed. But when you are Lady Deveril, he would be a fool to court such ruin.”

  “We are all fools courting ruin in one way or another. He’s made it quite clear that he thinks himself beyond the reach of consequences,” she replied. “I’ll continue to be cautious. And more guards should be employed. I won’t risk having Marina leave this house without them… not again.”

  “On that point, we are in agreement. When this is done, when Munro is apprehended and punished for what he did today, things will be different. Perhaps we can host a ball if you wish, or simply go about in society as you desire.”

  “I do not desire. Society has no allure for me,” she replied. “I’ve no wish to be whispered about and stared at while half the world calls me a social climbing fortune hunter and the other half calls me a fool for marrying you.”

  He didn’t bother to offer up a token protest, for that was all it could be. She spoke the truth. He’d been the third wheel in many a marriage, and sometimes the fourth or fifth wheel. While he had never lured a wife to stray and had contented himself with sampling the charms of women who had already veered far from the straight and narrow path, his exploits, both true and false, were bandied about freely. Gossip marked him a despoiler of innocents, a threat to the holy institution of matrimony and, in general, a menace to good women and boorish husbands the world over. “Then we shall retire to the country… or travel somewhere if you prefer.”

  “Let’s not pretend, Lord Deveril. I’m marrying you because I’ve been left with no other choice. You’re marrying me because you desire me and because it is the most expedient way to have what you want.” Her words were spoken softly, but the bitterness in them echoed through the room and pierced him like a blade. “If I had other options, beyond ruin and disgrace, I would take them.”

  Devil rose to his feet, eager to end the evisceration he was undergoing from her wicked tongue. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, Miss Marks. Have you considered that the information you have about me might very well be false?”

  Her lips curved in a mocking smile. “So you’re not a rogue? A rake? A man who has made free with the wives of other men while drinking, gaming, and dueling your way through England?”

  “I am all of those things, but I am not a man who breaks his word. And I am not a man who offers promises that I have neither the intent nor the will to keep. I’ve offered you my fidelity. I’ve offered to be your husband in good faith… I would hope you might accept the proposal in the same fashion. It isn’t a punishment, Miss Marks, unless you choose to make it one for the both of us. I will not be home for dinner. You may have it served in the dining room if you like or I can instruct the servants to bring up a tray.”

  “I’ll take care of it myself, thank you,” she said.

  Devil said nothing further, just nodded and walked away.

  *

  Alaric Munro returned to the small shack that butted up to the cemetery. He knew instantly that she was gone, but finding one of his hirelings dead was a bit of a surprise. It was also a complication he could ill afford. His other minion might well wash his hands of the entire mess or become enraged at the demise of his brother. Enraged meant unpredictable, and unpredictable meant dangerous to his cause.

  “Damn it!” he hissed out. Joseph was approaching the shack even then. Hurrying back outside, Alaric cut him off. “They’ve gone. Your bastard brother has absconded with my abductee.” It was the first and most reasonable lie that came to mind.

  “He wouldn’t have done that!” Joseph protested. “Not without orders!”

  “Unless he killed her by accident. He could even be disposing of her body. You need to go and look for him! Go to any places where he might have taken off to if things went wrong,” Alaric said.

  Joseph frowned at him. “And what will you be doing?”

  “Going to Mayfair to watch that blasted house and see if, perhaps, she managed to escape and returned to the safety of her pseudo-betrothed!” Munro lied. He was going back to Mayfair, but not for that reason. “Go, Colton. Find him and find what has happened to Miss Marks!”

  Alaric watched the larger man lumber off and breathed a sigh of relief. He had little doubt that the governess was safely ensconced in Lord Deveril’s posh home. He needed to corner Jeannette and find a way inside, and he needed to get Marina or he’d never see a single tuppence from Deveril, not after the man had put a pistol ball in the brain of one of his men. It was clear to Alaric that he’d underestimated Alice’s brother. He wasn’t the same weak, mewling sort that his sister has been. Ridding himself of Alice had been the best decision he’d ever made. Completing the task at a distance, using the gift of a simple tin of tea that Alice had responded to as if he’d given her jewels, had been a stroke of genius. But he hadn’t known at the time that Marina would not drink it. But that was fate serving him up an opportunity for recompense, a chance to get what was his due. But first, he’d need to dispose of Jim Colton’s corpse and pray his brother never found the truth.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After a long and sleepless night, beleaguered by dreams of the lovely and far too prickly Miss Marks, Devil had left the house early and obtained a special license. It had not been easy. He was known to the archbishop, after all, just as he was known to everyone else in London society, as a man of low morals and extravagant vices. He’d had to offer assurance upon assurance that the woman he was to marry was both willing and worthy of marriage, rather than some tavern-side doxy that he would use to thumb his nose at society matrons. In all, he’d been in chambers for over an hour pleading his case. Finally, the man had relented.

  Now, official document in hand, Devil was climbing the steps to his home when a dirty urchin suddenly rushed past him, raised the knocker, dropped a slip of paper, and then rushed off again. Both amused and somewhat befuddled by the experience, Devil stooped and retrieved the missive himself. It was addressed to Lady Carringden. Finding it odd that any such disreputable creature would be carrying messages to his aunt from any of her society friends, Devil frowned.

  The door opened and his butler looked askance at not having been there to open the door prior. “Relax, I didn’t knock. It was some filthy, bedraggled boy… I think it was a boy. It was hard to tell. He delivered a note for my aunt. Has he been here before, Carlton?”

  “Yes, my lord. Yesterday morning.”

  Tension and a sense of knowing filled him. It was not a coincidence. “Some filthy child shows up and delivers a note to my aunt on the very day that Miss Marks was abducted and you didn’t think it important?”

  The butler’s already pale face blanched. “I do beg your pardon, my lord. I simply forgot. With everything else that happened… but upon reflection, I can certainly see how the two events occurring in such close proximity would be a significant detail that I should not have overlooked!”

  “Do not castigate yourself too much, Carlton. I don’t have time to replace you,” Devil replied dryly.

  Rather than wait for his aunt to explain the situation, Devil did something he would not normally. He opened the letter and scanned the contents.

  J,

  The plan failed. Deveril rescued the girl and we are back to nothing. I won’t get another chance at her. My only hope now is the child. You must bring her to me in the park. This afternoon. If we cannot get the money from Deveril, there is no hope for us, my love. It is the only way we could ever be together.

  A.

  Devil read it a second time, his gut clenching with fury and betrayal. He’d brought her into his home on the premise of protecting Willa from social ruin and, in turn, had exposed her to even greater dangers. He had, unintentionally, placed her in harm’s way.

  “Not a word to Lady Carringden, Carlton,” Devil said. “She is not to know this was delivered. Is that clear?”

  The butler nodded gravely. “I will be as silent as the grave, my lord. It is not my place to speak against a member of the family, but I find such treachery deplorable.”

  “So do I, Carlton. So do I.”

  With that matter settled, Devil climbed the stairs and went directly to Willa’s chambers. He knocked lightly on the door but did not wait for an answer before turning the handle and stepping inside. She was seated at her dressing table, placing the last pin in her simple coiffure. He could see the dark bruises on her neck and felt renewed rage at the sight of it.

  “I wish I’d been the one to shoot the bounder,” he said.

  “I’m just glad someone shot him,” Willa answered. “I’m assuming that some pressing matter has brought you to my chamber this morning?”

  “I have the license. And I think we should go immediately to be married,” he said.

  She blinked at him in confusion. “Now?”

  “Yes. We need to be back here by two o’clock so that we can finally put an end to Alaric’s plans.”

  “What is happening at two o’clock?”

  Devil sat down on the small bench at the foot of her bed. “I think Lady Carringden is involved with Alaric Munro… and I think that she may have had a hand in helping him to carry off your abduction.”

  Willa shook her head, her expression conveying just how stunned she was by the revelation. “I have no idea how to respond to that. Her lack of regard for me has certainly been obvious, but I would not have thought that she was capable of such a vile thing. Are you absolutely certain?”

  Devil retrieved the missive from his pocket and passed it to her. “That was dropped on the doorstep this morning by some beggar child that Alaric pressed into service. The same child, according to Carlton, who delivered another such note yesterday morning. I can’t attest to the contents of it, but based on what I read there, it’s damning enough, I daresay.”

  “I cannot believe this. She’s your family,” Willa said, scanning the note. “Why?”

  “I’ve always wondered how it was that Alice came to his attention to begin with,” Devil admitted. “Now, I have to examine the possibility that it was Lady Carringden all along who placed Alice in his path and who ultimately brought about her ruin and downfall.”

  *

  The pain at such betrayal, his love and his grief for his sister, his determination to keep her safe and to do what Marina needed to be able to grow and thrive—it wasn’t any one of those things that cracked the hardened shell of her heart. It was all of them together and the fact that, time and again, he showed her that he was not the man society had painted him to be. It was an uncomfortable moment for her to admit that she’d never judged him fairly. She’d entered that house certain of his character, and while he’d played to that on numerous occasions, it was easy to see why. He’d become so accustomed to people having so little faith in him that he’d stopped trying to convince anyone that he was anything more than a thoroughly debauched rogue and wastrel.

  “I owe you an apology, Lord Deveril—Douglas,” she corrected. “I’ve misjudged you terribly. You’re a better man than the world knows and a better man, I think, than you give yourself credit for being.”

  His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I am all that has been said of me, Willa.”

  “Yes, but that is not the totality of you. And I feel rather fortunate to have had the opportunity to realize that… I am not certain that marriage is the best option for us, but I know it is our only option at this time. To that end, I think we should just go and see it done.”

  His lips quirked in a rueful smile. “It’s hardly the excitement one hopes for in a bride but, at this point, I suppose I should take what I can get. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  Willa took a moment to dash off a note to Effie letting her know what they were about. There was a moment where she considered if perhaps Effie had not seen this coming and engineered it all to some degree. It would not be the first time that Effie had taken it upon herself to clandestinely manage her grown pupils’ lives. When it was done, she donned her pelisse, as the day was chilly and gray, and then made her way downstairs. She entrusted the note to Carlton, the butler. “Please have that delivered to the Darrow School.”