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Dev pushed away the plate of White’s famous roast beef he’d barely touched.
“You’re going to fade away to skin and bone.” Simon wanted to give his friend a good shake. It was early evening and already bleariness dulled Dev’s eyes.
“No appetite,” Dev said, picking up his snifter glass and swirling the golden liquid. The square fingers clenched for a moment. He tossed back the brandy in one quick swallow. “How’s the arm?”
“Merely bruised. Don’t change the subject. Brandy might dull your appetite, but before long it will take what’s left of your brain.” Dev needed something other than Genevieve Longbourne to think about.
The man answered by refilling his glass, lifting it in a silent toast to Simon and gulping it down.
Simon glared at him. “The attack was deliberate.”
“Any idea who’d want to kill you?”
Simon grimaced. “Might it not be someone after you? They weren’t explicit.”
With a flash of his former self, Dev grinned cheekily. “Jealous husbands are more in your line than mine.”
Simon grinned back, relieved to see Dev wasn’t totally incapacitated. “No more married women for me, no matter how much they beg.” No woman at all, until he got rid of Victoria. Cassie’s mother wouldn’t wait indefinitely for him to finalize their bargain. Simon poured himself a brandy. “Ladybirds from now on. Less baggage.” Unlike virtuous young ladies with violet eyes and hair as black as night.
“There’s going to be a gnashing of teeth and beating of breasts among the noble matrons of the ton if you keep to that maxim,” Dev jibed.
Simon shrugged.
Dev cupped the glass in one large hand to inhale the fumes. “So who do you think was responsible for the attack?”
“How about one of your old enemies? Europe is rife with intrigue now Napoleon’s been put away. Everyone jockeying for position.”
Dev looked glum. “Jesus. What I’d give to be back in the service. Anything to alleviate this bloody boredom and—” He shook his head. “I shot my bolt there. Castlereagh’ll never have me back. Not after Longbourne complained.”
“What about Longbourne? He hates you enough after what happened with Genevieve.”
“Aye. And he’s sneaky enough. But what reason would he have? Genevieve gave me the right about the last time I saw her and now she’s engaged to the duke of her dreams. Damn his eyes.”
Simon sipped at his brandy. Though he’d served England nobly over the last years of war with France, Dev’s cover had been stripped away along with his political aspirations. Once thought to be one of Castlereagh’s up-and-coming young men, Dev’s aborted attempt to elope with Longbourne’s sister had ended his career hopes. Simon stared into his glass.
“There’s Ogden?” Dev suggested.
Simon considered the issue dispassionately. Ogden hated him. With good reason. “It doesn’t make sense. If I die, so does the golden goose. He’s nothing to gain except revenge, and a great deal to lose.”
“I thought you were going to stop paying him.”
He wanted to. “Father’s will makes it mandatory. Actually, it would make more sense if I killed him.”
Dev poured another brandy.
A long night stretched ahead. Courageous and honorable, Dev had fallen for a cold-hearted woman. Genevieve was a fool to pass him up. He’d make a good husband—kind, generous to a fault and with no skeletons in the family cupboard. The perfect man for Victoria Yelverton. The thought of Dev with Victoria slid, like sharp steel, into his ribs. “I need a favor.”
Dev flicked an eyebrow. “What?”
“Maria has me escorting Victoria to the theater and an endless list of balls. Join me tomorrow night at Covent Garden.”
“Ye gods, no. Not my style at all.”
“Damn it, Dev. I’m dying here. I need some moral support around these damned society wenches, some decent male conversation.”
“I can’t do it. I might run into Genevieve.”
Simon leaned back into the leather wingback chair and took a deep swallow from his snifter. “You can’t go running like a rabbit into a burrow every time Genevieve is in London. You’re going to have to face her sooner or later. Talk will die down all the quicker if you get it over with.”
Dev looked unconvinced.
“Besides,” Simon continued, “if there really is someone out to get me, or you, we should stick together and see if we can’t catch the bastards.” There was no one he’d rather be in a fight with than Dev. When he was sober.
The other man’s expression brightened. “It makes sense.” He leaned forward. “If they do try again, we’ll know for sure it wasn’t a random robbery. If we catch them at it, we might be able to figure out who is after whom.” He groaned. “How many routs did you say?”
Simon repressed the pang of guilt for appealing to the man’s protective streak. “Never mind the balls, I think we have Almack’s on Wednesday.”
“Curse you. You failed to mention that.”
Simon smirked. “Listen, no drinking on this mission until the ladies are safely off our hands.”
“I can do that. Starting tomorrow.”
Simon certainly hoped so. He got up and stretched his shoulders. “How about a hand of piquet? I need to relieve you of some of your fortune.”
Dev heaved to his feet. “Not here, though, Sin. Let’s go somewhere we can get as pickled as herrings and no one will care. Somewhere they have warm and welcoming ladies.”
The prospect of Dev as drunk as a wheelbarrow was no more enticing than the thought of a fille de joie. The last thing Simon needed was a woman. At least, not the kind he could have. He sighed. “You’re going to kill us both.”
Dev looked suspiciously pleased.
Simon steeled himself. He would do anything to oblige his friend. It was little enough he could do and after tonight, he’d be too busy escorting Victoria to drink himself to death in some hell. Dev liked Victoria; he’d indicated as much at Corby’s ball. She would make an excellent diversion and an even better marchioness.
Simon tasted the bitter ashes of loss. How could that be when she had never been his? He clenched his jaw and slapped Dev on the shoulder. “I know just the place for us.”
Green Park offered a delightful vista. Clear blue skies lightened Victoria’s mood as the breeze blew away her worries about the impending interview with Travis. Perhaps he’d heard from her aunt at last.
With the emerald grass bedewed with yesterday’s rain, the park provided a haven of pastoral quiet in the heart of bustling, dirty London. Even the air smelled fresh for a change. A distant herd of cows sheltered in the shade of an oak so ancient it counted its age by hundreds and a goose-girl chivvied her flock toward the water. Victoria breathed in the sense of peace.
It brought back memories of other days like this, when she was young and carefree in her old home in Kent.
Trailed by Elsie, her maid, Victoria tramped across the open grass uncaring of the wet and mire creeping up the hem of her gown. She avoided the pathways, where officious nursemaids and their charges dodged puddles turned steel-bright by the early sun.
Fortunately, Travis had ridden out long before Victoria reached the breakfast room, and since Maria never rose before mid-day, it left her free to do as she pleased. At Golden Square, Victoria had run the household. And before they were forced to come to London, her work raising funds for a Parish school had occupied much of her time. The trivial social round and enforced idleness of her current situation left her enervated. Certain a brisk walk would set her to rights she inhaled deeply and picked up her pace.
“Victoria.” The figure of a man crossed the grass to meet her.
She squinted into the sun. “Lord Ogden.” She greeted him with a smile and a nod.
“I hoped I might find you here,” he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips.
She continued walking and he strolled at her side. “Did you?” Cassandra Eckford must be otherwise engaged. She quelled the uncharitable thought. She had no right to care where he went or with whom.
“I believe I know your habits well enough by now.” He swung his cane with jauntily. “It’s a fine day and, unless you have your nose glued to a book, you are walking out. Green Park is close to where you currently reside, quiet enough to suit your tastes and so, voila....” He bowed with a flourish. “Here I am.”
Irritated by his faintly condescending tone, Victoria frowned. “Am I indeed so predictable?”
An eyebrow rose as if he sensed her mood. “I would not dare say such a thing, but even Michael remarked on your penchant for early morning walks.”
Those last few months, Michael hadn’t expressed an interest in anything except his horses, the precision of his cravat and his bouts of gambling with the viscount. “I didn’t think he’d noticed.”
Ogden stopped and grasped her hand for a moment, squeezing her fingers. “You are wrong, my dear. Your brother worried about you. Your lack of a dowry grieved him. He always hoped to win enough at the tables to restore your fortunes.”
Cold enveloped her. Michael had lost everything because of her? It could not be true and yet deep in her heart, she feared it might be. “He knew I didn’t care about money or position. I just wanted us to be happy, the way we were before Mama died.”
Before her father, racked by guilt, drank himself into a stupor and let everything slide away from him. If only she had tried to find out what troubled Michael, instead of tearing into him about his drinking and gambling each time he set foot in her drawing room.
Ogden shook his head sorrowfully. “Incorrigible young rogue. I tried to talk to him, but you know how he was. He was always certain the next turn of the die would be in his favor. I had no idea he would dare join Travis’s table. He’d lost everything by the time I arrived.”
Victoria closed her eyes against the shattering memory of Michael’s last moments. Ogden had often listened to her talk of her brother’s folly. To discover she had caused his recklessness pained her beyond belief.
“Come, you need to sit for a while.” He guided her to a bench set beneath a spreading oak.
Dawdling behind them, her maid Elsie was chatting with a nursemaid from a neighboring house. The little boy, about three years old, took advantage of his keeper’s distraction. Stomping in a puddle at the far reaches of his leading strings, he giggled as muddy water soaked his petticoats.
The little scoundrel. Victoria chuckled.
“I admire so much about you, Victoria,” Ogden said, one arm stretched behind her along the back of the seat. “So full of good sense.” He stared at the ground, his expression solemn. “I simply cannot help wondering... Well, it really is none of my business, I suppose.”
Her heart sank. “Wondering what?”
He took her hand. “I’d like to think we are more than friends.”
An uneasy prickle skittered down Victoria’s back. She had dreaded this, and knowing he also pursued Miss Eckford, it gave her a slightly queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She eased her hand from his.
A muscle flickered in his jaw. “Victoria, I care about what happens to you. As your brother’s closest friend, I can’t help wondering why you would accept the hospitality of a man like Travis.”
She hardly understood it herself. As Michael’s friend, perhaps she did owe him some explanation, some assurance that nothing was untoward. “Somehow Travis learned I had nowhere to go after Michael’s death and he insisted he had some responsibility for my welfare.” She no longer believed Michael had lost her to Travis in a wager, though she certainly wasn’t going to mention that to Ogden.
“You must be careful, Victoria. His reputation is less than stellar, and the gossips know not the half of it.”
His barely veiled insinuations made Travis sound evil and a strange desire to defend him hovered on her lips. “Travis wants me gone just as much as I want to leave. I’ve barely seen him and Maria Allenby is a formidable chaperon.”
Ogden’s gaze searched her face, his expression full of concern. “Don’t be fooled by his charm.”
Charm? He either issued autocratic commands or avoided her. Except when he kissed her. A wicked quiver deep in her belly taunted her with the memory of that mistake and warmth flooded her face. She straightened her spine against the insidious sensations.
“If you knew how many innocents he’s ruined... He is not called Sin without reason.” He sighed. “I know it’s hard for a decent young lady to imagine, but even now he has another in his toils.”
He meant Miss Eckford. “Please, say no more.”
Deep furrows creased his high, pale forehead. “Do not trust him, Victoria. Put yourself in my care. I can’t offer you marriage or great wealth, but I can offer protection.”
She gasped. Her face flamed. Did he really intend to offer her carte blanche? She felt soiled. “How dare you.” She rose to her feet.
He leaped up and caught her elbow. “You mistake my meaning. It was not well expressed. You are like my own dear sister. I just want to help you leave Travis. I know to my cost what he’s like. A member of my own family...” He pressed his lips together, strain showing in the grooves around his mouth and his forehead.
Cold fingers clutched at Victoria’s heart. “If you have firsthand knowledge, you must tell me.”
Ogden rubbed at his chin, a disconsolate expression in his pale eyes. “To speak of it would harm an innocent. Please, trust me. Michael didn’t listen to me and look what happened.”
Victoria didn’t know what to think. Ogden had been a true friend to Michael, whereas the Earl of Travis had taken everything he owned. Not true. Michael had taken his own life.
Despite Travis’s autocratic commands and his icy exterior, she had never feared harm from him. And yet Ogden had been Michael’s friend and had warned him against Travis. Nothing made sense anymore.
The drumming of approaching hoof-beats disturbed her whirling thoughts. She looked up to see a horseman approaching at the thundering pace. Man and beast in perfect harmony, dark and powerful and awesome. Rainbows splashed up around the beast’s great hooves. She had no trouble recognizing the rider as Travis.
In spite of herself, relief washed over her. With Travis here, Ogden would leave.
“The devil,” Ogden said. “He usually exercises that beast in Hyde Park. I would not have looked for you here had I known he would turn up.”
Avoiding Travis was also the reason why she walked in Green Park. Cowardice.
Ogden shot to his feet.
Travis dismounted in a fluid motion, coming to stand in front of him with a murderous expression. “You will leave now, Ogden, if you value your dignity.”
Ogden backed up a step.
Victoria snatched up her parasol and stood. “You do not have authority over whom I may or may not speak.”
“I do,” Travis said, his expression tight.
Ogden curled his lip. “Don’t be a boor, Travis.”
Travis drew off a gauntlet and ran it through his palm. He flicked a black eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”
“I’ll not brawl in front of a lady.” Ogden bowed to Victoria. “Don’t forget what I said, Miss Yelverton.” He nodded stiffly at Travis and headed towards his curricle waiting on the street.
His expression dark, Travis watched his departure. “Another tryst, madam?”
“Certainly not, my lord.” She nodded. “If you will excuse me, I should like to continue my walk.”
He reached out and grasped her arm. “I specifically told you not to go abroad without Maria, and I find you meeting the cur alone, after I instructed you to have nothing to do with him.”
This was second time this morning a man had questioned her morals. She lifted her chin. “Don’t lay your lack of attention to society’s rules on my head, my lord. I met Viscount Ogden quite by chance. And, if you will turn your eyes in that direction—” she waived her parasol at Elsie “—you will see my maid. Now, if you wouldn’t mind releasing my arm, I will go.”
The word home stuck in her throat. She didn’t have one. “I will be on my way.”
She set off at a brisk pace, leaving Elsie to follow.
“Victoria, wait.”
She heard the plea in his voice, like the one she had heard that night on the balcony. His boots scrunched on the gravel path behind her. He was following?
“Miss Yelverton. Please wait.”
Others strolling along the pathway were staring. She whirled around to face him. “Well?”
He smiled. Warm, friendly and utterly charming. Her heart skipped a beat.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I spoke in haste. I should have given you a chance to explain.”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
He grinned, charmingly rueful, a boy with his hand found in the biscuit barrel, and not the least bit put out. “You are right. I am sorry.”
She shook her head. What could she say faced with such sweetness? It was as if he wanted to make peace between them. The thought pleased her more than she expected. “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.” He sounded equally pleased.
Her heart gave an odd little squeeze.
The horse nudged him in the back. Victoria put out a hand as Travis lurched into her.
“I beg your pardon,” he muttered. “Diablo, behave.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Interesting name for your horse. Sin rides the devil.”
His cheeky grin reappeared. “Ironic, no?”
Far too charming when he wanted to be. She ignored the flutters of her pulse and fixed her attention on the horse. “He’s a beautiful animal.” She reached out to stroke Diablo’s nose.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warned.
She smiled at his astonishment as Diablo snuffled into her hand. “He and I are friends. I visit him some afternoons when Maria is napping. He has a sweet tooth.”
“You like horses?”
She evaded the question along with the sick empty feeling in her stomach. “My father used to breed some beauties.”
He looked at her curiously. “Do you like to ride?”
Of course he’d ask the inevitable question. Might as well get it over with. “No, I do not.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes.”
He frowned. “You surprise me. I thought of you as fearless. Were you in an accident?”
She nodded, blinking back blurring tears, refusing to embarrass herself. She pointed at Diablo. “He’s magnificent. You should breed him.”
“I did,” he said. “This past year. He sired a fine colt, which will do well on the racetrack.” Joy filled his face, like sunrays bursting through thunderous clouds. For once he looked youthful and impossibly attractive. Her chest tightened against her swelling heart. She must not let him charm her again.
She kept her voice light. “So, you breed horses.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Something you didn’t know about me, Miss Yelverton.”
A smile tugged at her lips. She liked this gentler, teasing side of him. “I’m sure there is much I do not know, Lord Travis. Do you breed your horses for riding or racing?”
“Racing mostly. I have a likely filly running at Newmarket next race day.” Pride flashed in his eyes, then he became serious. “But you know, you really should try riding again.”
A shiver rolled down her spin. This was not a topic she liked to pursue. Get him talking about himself. It always worked with Michael and Papa. She continued strolling and sent him a questioning glance. “That sounds like the voice of experience speaking.”
“I’ve had the odd tumble,” he admitted. For a moment, he fought with Diablo’s bridle as the horse snorted and tossed his head. “I’m sure I must have something gentle enough for you in my stables. If nothing there suits you, I’ll see what Tattersall’s has next week. I’d be delighted to tutor you.”
“I, thank you, but no. I used to ride with my parents as a child. I haven’t ridden for years and have no intention of doing so now.”
“I would never let you fall.” His smile cajoled and sent her heart leaping wildly beneath her ribs. “There’s nothing like riding at speed for freeing the spirit.”
She couldn’t think about it, let alone do it. She tried to speak around throat-choking tears at the vivid recollection of the day her life had changed forever. Burdened with guilt, Papa had sold every horse they owned for a pittance within a week of Mama’s funeral and disappeared inside a bottle. Michael had run wild, and Victoria had failed to take her mother’s place.
She scrabbled for her handkerchief and blew her nose. She tried to smile at him. “My mother fell from her horse in a riding accident when I was twelve. I watched her die. I see it and I hear it every time I think about getting on a horse. The sound of bones breaking, the horse screaming, my father crying. I simply cannot do it.”
Cold reserve turned his sun-lit eyes to glacier-blue. His expression turned stony. He stared off into the distance.
Seconds felt like minutes.
He cleared his throat. “You’ve certainly had more than your fair share of tragedy.”
The biting words delivered like an accusation, cut at her heart. She gasped.
A muscled flickered in his jaw. “Excuse me, Miss Yelverton. I must return home. I will see you in my study at eleven, as arranged.”
He leaped into the saddle, his riding coat swirling around him. The black brute stood quietly under his hand. He nodded stiffly, wheeled Diablo around and cantered away.
Victoria stared after him, wishing she had not revealed her fear to a man with melted snow in his veins. He had obviously been disgusted by her lack of courage.
Her heart felt like a heavy weight in her chest. Once more, Travis had brought home to her everything she’d lost. She really had to find a way to leave his house. Perhaps she should take Ogden up on his offer after all.