The Devilish Duke, page 22
“Your sister is somewhat independent… I will grant you that.” Perhaps he had not thought out the notion properly. But she would be able to see the logic in his plans. Surely?
Daniel’s laughter echoed through the broken furniture scattered about the room. “That has got to be the biggest understatement of the year.”
“Make jests about it all you will, but she shall agree.”
“At least promise me that you will tell her what she will agree to whilst I am present, for her reaction to that should provide jolly good amusement.” He laughed again.
“Just be sure to return to the country as soon as you are able to.” Devlin glowered at him. “Then I shall have the unfortunate pleasure of being related to you for the rest of my life.”
Daniel grew sober, though his eyes still sparked with merriment. “God help me, the Devil Duke is to be my brother-in-law. If I did not love my sister so, I think I might just have strangled her.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Alec, thank you so much for coming and so quickly, too.” Sophie rushed up to the entrance door and hugged her friend. “The two imbeciles are in there.” She inclined her head toward the drawing room and stepped back from his arms.
Dr. Alec McGuiness handed his hat and coat to Stokes. “Of course I would come immediately.”
She smiled at him. “I am lucky to have such a good friend.”
“As am I. Now, are either of them hurt a great deal?”
“No, not really.” She placed her hand on his elbow and guided him toward the drawing room. “Thankfully, I do not think either of them will need stitches, though they have a few gashes, and both of their ribs are fairly sore.”
“I shall be sure to give them a thorough examination.”
“Thank you, Alec,” she said. “I am so glad that you are here. It feels like I have not seen you in ages.”
“It has been a few weeks.” He stopped just before the drawing room doorway. “I got your note, by the way, asking about the colored glass lenses I have been working on.”
“Yes, there is a young boy who mentioned that the words seem all jumbled when he looks at them, and I immediately thought of your success with others who claim the same problem.”
“Yes, the lenses do seem to assist to some degree, though not always,” Alec replied as he pulled out a rectangular leather pouch. “I brought with me a pair that you could try with the boy. They are a small frame, so hopefully they will not be too large for him.”
She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Alec, you are marvelous! Thank you so very much.”
“It is quite all right,” he replied. “I gather you have been very busy of late.”
Sophie stopped walking, happy to impart the news to her friend. “You have read the Times this morning then?”
“I have.” For some odd reason, he had a rather sad expression on his face. Perhaps he was preoccupied with a previous patient. “You are to marry the Duke of Huntington?”
“I am,” she acknowledged.
“And you are happy with this arrangement? Particularly considering you repeatedly said that you never planned to marry.”
She didn’t wish to ponder too much on the question. “We shall do very well together, the Duke and I.” A twinge of melancholy gripped her at the thought that love would not be part of their equation, but she suppressed it before it could grow into something unmanageable.
“Well, then, I suppose congratulations are in order. I do hope he knows the treasure that he has obtained.” His brown eyes seemed dimmer than usual. She had to wonder what preoccupied him so. “And that he will treat you with the utmost respect and care that you deserve.”
“I shall,” Devlin’s voice rang out from the now-open doorway of the drawing room. “You have no need to worry on that score.”
“Devlin,” she gasped. “You should be sitting down.”
He ignored her and walked forward.
The two men sized each other up. Did all of the men in her life think to throttle her fiancé? And for that matter, Devlin looked as if he, too, wished to pummel Alec. The whole series of events would be amusing if it was not so tiring.
“Devlin, let me introduce you to Dr. Alec McGuiness, a dear childhood friend of mine, who has also very kindly rushed over here to see to your own and my brother’s injuries.”
Devlin merely grunted.
Good Lord, the man needed a lesson in manners. She elbowed him in the ribs.
He swore and reluctantly extended his hand. Alec reached out and grasped it.
“And this, Alec, as you might have guessed,” she continued on, “is my fiancé, the Duke of Huntington.”
She watched as both men vigorously shook the other’s hand, the knuckles of their respective fingers whitening from the hard grip each inflicted.
“Pleased to meet you,” Alec offered.
“I have no need of your services,” Devlin ground out, finally releasing the other man.
“Oh, for goodness sakes, Devlin. You are injured, and Alec is going to examine you, end of story.” Sophie emphasized her comment by poking him in the chest. “Come, let us proceed to the drawing room. And not another word from you, sir!”
…
“He is in love with her,” Devlin stated in a monotone voice as he watched Sophie walk the Doctor out through the entrance hall toward the front door. He didn’t know why, but the thought sent a shard of burning rage deep into the pit of his stomach.
“That might be putting too strong a word on it,” Daniel remarked. “He admires her a great deal is all.”
“You know such a thing, and yet you still allow him to see her?” Devlin whipped his head around from his position at the door of the drawing room and pinned Daniel with his glare. The man seemed far too cavalier about such a situation.
“We have all known each other since childhood. Alec is like a distant family member.” Daniel gave a careless shrug. “Plus, his skills as a surgeon have come in handy a great many times too. Just take today; he has patched both of us remarkably well.”
Devlin glowered at him. “Does it not concern you that the man is besotted with her?”
“No,” Daniel answered. “I trust him to behave as a gentleman. Besides, Sophie thinks of him as a brother, nothing more.”
“Well, he certainly does not think of her as a sister,” Devlin snapped. “God, is every bloody man in London in love with your sister?”
Daniel grinned. “Careful, old chap, you are sounding decidedly jealous.”
Narrowing his eyes, Devlin stalked across to the doorway. He wasn’t jealous. He simply didn’t appreciate how the man was looking at his future wife. He watched as Sophie gave the doctor a hug and saw him out the door. “He is a dead man.”
Sophie’s brother had the audacity to laugh as he, too, saw them embrace. “I told you she thinks of him as a brother.”
“Well, he is not! They should not be hugging each other, particularly when the man is infatuated with her.” It just wasn’t proper. Behavior such as that could jeopardize her reputation. That had to be the sole reason he was so infuriated.
“Would appear he is not the only one,” Daniel mumbled.
“What did you say?” Devlin snarled as he spun around toward Daniel.
Pointedly ignoring the question, Daniel sat back down on the sofa. “My sister is completely oblivious to his feelings toward her.”
Devlin glanced back toward Sophie, who looked far too comfortable with the man by far. He would have to put a stop to such actions immediately. Surely, once he pointed out the perils of her behavior, Sophie would see the wisdom in his edict.
“Alec knows he has no chance with her,” Daniel said as he put his feet up on the coffee table and reclined back against the sofa.
“Damn right he does not,” Devlin declared.
Folding his arms across his chest, Daniel laughed. “The mighty Duke of Huntington jealous of a humble doctor. How amusing.”
With something almost akin to panic swirling in his stomach, Devlin realized the truth in Daniel’s words. He was jealous. Good God, how had that happened? And more to the point, how did he deal with feeling such a foreign emotion?
Particularly as the Crowleys’ house party was tomorrow and he’d have to spend the entire weekend with Sophie. Suddenly, his cravat felt entirely too restrictive.
Sophie wandered back into the room, an odd light of speculation in her gaze as she eyed him up and down. “You look ill. Perhaps I should fetch Alec back?”
Devlin shook his head. He did feel ill, but not physically. How could he be jealous? That would suggest he’d let his emotions become involved. “I’m late for an appointment,” he mumbled, the excuse sounding feeble even to his own ears. But he needed air, and he needed it now. Without a backward glance, Devlin strode for the front door. Distance would provide the space he needed to get these unruly emotions of his in check. He was counting on it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sophie heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the Crowley residence come into view over the tree tops in the distance. After a hurried morning spent continually assuring her aunt that it was perfectly acceptable for an engaged woman to attend without a chaperone, and alternatively ensuring that all of her luggage was packed and secured, Sophie was somewhat exhausted, to say the least.
Thankfully, she had not had to contend with her brother, who had left for Italy before she’d even awoken.
In the end, she had managed to convince Mabel she would be perfectly safe, and Mabel had eventually agreed that having Sophie’s maid Abigail accompany her was suitable, at least now that she was betrothed. And Devlin was going to be there—he was just arriving in a separate conveyance.
The carriage ride to Lord Crowley’s estate had mercifully been uneventful; her maid had slept for most of the journey, while Sophie was anticipating being able to stretch her legs and hopefully get some answers.
As the carriage pulled up at the front of the residence, she looked out of the window and took stock of the large manor house looming in front of her; she felt a slight chill of foreboding.
Peeking her head out of the carriage door now held open by one of the footmen, she breathed in the crisp country air, certain that this weekend would prove pivotal in getting some information to assist in discovering what had happened to Jane.
She stepped down onto the graveled path beneath and looked up as the doors to the main entrance opened and Lord and Lady Crowley came outside to greet her. She had to admit that she was somewhat curious as to what the Crowleys had planned for the weekend. Though the Crowleys were eminently respectable throughout Society, as Devlin had informed her, their house parties had a somewhat notorious reputation for scandalous entertainment.
In a way, she was glad that Devlin would be there to offer his protection, even though he was still annoyed with her over her refusal to accompany him today in his carriage.
The man could not understand why they should bow to convention and travel in separate carriages when they were headed for the same place. But the speculation around their attending the house party together would be rife enough without them also arriving in the same carriage on a journey that took more than two hours. Not that she was all that bothered by gossip, but she did not think she was up to a lengthy carriage ride with him, particularly after what had occurred on the last occasion.
Fixing a smile on her face, she watched as Lord Crowley came up to her and took her hand in his own. The man was in his late thirties, with a thin moustache and black hair slicked back with a good deal too much oil. He reminded Sophie of a slippery eel—who clearly thought himself to be somewhat of a ladies’ man. True, he was what some might call handsome, but with the slimy smile he was now gracing her with, she thought he looked more like a snake than an Adonis.
“Lady Sophie,” Lord Crowley began, “my wife and I are so very pleased that you could grace us with your presence.”
He leaned in slightly closer to her. “Must say that when the Duke confirmed his attendance and asked that you be invited, too, I could not understand his request. But then when notice of your engagement appeared in the Times, it all became very clear.”
The man seemed to find his own wit quite amusing as he laughed aloud. “Do not you worry about anything, Lady Sophie. I have put you and the Duke in adjoining rooms.” He winked at her.
Sophie felt like wiping the smirk off the man’s face. Instead, she smiled politely. “That shall not be necessary. The Duke and I are not married yet.”
“Engaged is practically the same thing,” he replied. “Besides, it is all organized, for I know what a newly engaged couple attending a house party is about. But do not worry; Lady Crowley and I pride ourselves on our discretion, do we not, my love?”
“Of course, husband. What occurs at Crowley manor stays a closely guarded secret,” Lady Crowley replied as she appeared at her husband’s side. She stepped toward Sophie and quickly placed air kisses near her cheeks.
Lady Crowley herself was dressed in the very latest fashion, her pale blue gown sitting just off the shoulder, with lace dripping from her neckline. Though it appeared that her dressmaker had been somewhat miserly in the amount of material used to cover the lady’s décolletage. Sophie was certain that if Lady Crowley so much as sneezed, her assets would likely pop out.
“Lady Sophie,” the woman said, her eyes shrewdly assessing her. “Do let me congratulate you on your engagement. What a coup to catch a Duke. Who would have thought it would be possible at your age?”
Lady Crowley was not known for her kind comments. Sophie smiled broadly. “Amazing, is it not? I was getting quite desperate with my lack of husband status. It took you a while to find a husband, too, did it not, Lady Crowley?”
Lady Crowley’s own smile grew tight, and her eyes glittered, making her look a good deal older than someone in her late twenties, as she was reported to be. “Perhaps you had best be shown to your room. You are looking dreadfully tired and travel worn. I daresay it will take your maid the better part of an hour to pretty you up.”
Sophie’s smile only grew.
“Nonsense, Ruby,” Lord Crowley said. “Lady Sophie looks as lovely as ever, which one would expect from the Duke of Huntington’s fiancée. The man always did have magnificent taste in the ladies.” He glanced at his wife briefly. “He rebuffed your interest, though, did he not, dear, before we were married a few years back?”
Sophie had to stifle her laughter at the look of murderous rage the lady was now shooting her husband, plainly taking great exception to the remark.
“You are quite incorrect. For it was I who refused the Duke’s advances,” Lady Crowley remarked before spinning on her heel and stalking to the entrance.
Lord Crowley turned to Sophie and winked again at her. “My wife has never taken rejection at all well, and though it was somewhat crass of me to remind her of it, I could not help it, for she was being dreadfully rude to you. Pity I did not do as the Duke did. But never mind that. Come, let us get you out of the cold. Your maid can use the service entrance.”
Lord Crowley held out his arm, which Sophie reluctantly took, then led her toward the front entrance.
“My lord, I do have a few questions of some urgency that I was hoping you might be able to assist with,” she asked him.
“Is it about my maids?” he asked.
She stopped walking, feeling her face alight with shock. “How did you know?”
He sighed. “It is all anyone has been able to ask me about.”
Well, that was peculiar. Why would Jane’s disappearance be of concern to the gossiping guests? “I do not understand?”
“Two of them have gone and gotten themselves killed,” he said in a delicate tone, obviously trying not to upset her. “The news made its way into The Times this morning. It is all any of the guests have been able to speak of.”
Sophie felt a numbness infuse her body. “Please tell me you are jesting?” Surely, he couldn’t be talking about Jane?
He shook his head, morosely. “I wish I was. I have been having a terrible turn of luck with the servants. Only the other week, one turned up dead in the woods over that yonder hill, and now one has been murdered in London.”
Sophie gripped his arm, a horrible gnawing sensation beginning to dig into her chest. “What were their names?”
“The one in the woods was named Jane, apparently.” His forehead wrinkled up in thought. “Can’t say I remember her very well, for I must confess I pay little attention to the staff. I vaguely remember this one, though, as we all thought she’d run off, but it appears she wandered off into the woods weeks ago and met with some foul play.”
Oh God. No. Not Jane. For a moment, it felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Jane was dead? The girl she had helped to learn how to read and write, with the ready smile and a kind word for everyone she came into contact with. She’d deserved a warm and decent life, perhaps someday with a little home and a family of her own. Sophie felt like her heart would break. She’d been so proud of Jane the day she’d helped her fill her small steamer trunk and head on her way to her first position with Abelard.
“How did she die?” A part of her dreaded hearing. But she knew she would never forgive herself if she didn’t find out.
“We’re not sure, but they say she was killed a few weeks before being found. We thought she had run off with a man, but it looks like she was murdered instead.” Crowley sighed as he threaded her hand through his elbow and started toward the large double doors once more. “Do you know what the most inconvenient thing about it all is?”
Inconvenient? Two innocent girls had met violent ends, and all the man could think of was his own convenience. She had to make a determined effort not to let her disgust show on her face.
“Now with this other silly maid Tina being murdered in London, the authorities are looking into this Jane girl’s death more closely.”
