What the Groom Wants (18 page)

“Of course, your grace. And what should the footmen say when they locate her?”

“They are to escort her to me with all speed.”

Seelye didn’t respond, except to bow. Radley took a moment to stare out the door. He still had his hat in hand and was poised to rush out. But where would he go? Her shop, of course, but Seelye had just said she wasn’t there. Much as he hated it, he knew it was more likely that she would come back here once she discovered she’d missed him at the tailor’s. Rushing out now would only mean that he’d miss her again.

With a muttered curse of disgust, he handed his hat back to Seelye. The footmen would bring her back here. The wise thing was to sit and wait.

“Bring her straight to me, Seelye. No delay.”

“Of course not, your grace.”

Radley turned to head for the sideboard. He wanted a drink after a day of fashion and dancing. Bloody, ridiculous nonsense. He’d gone no more than a step when Seelye’s level tone stopped him.

“It if please your grace, Mr. Milton could join you now in your room. He could cut your hair while Thomas prepares your bath.”

He stopped, his mind split between Wendy and wondering what he’d do until he found her again. There was little room in his brain for Mr. Milton, his valet, or hairstyles, but he supposed that would pass the time as well as anything. Not as well as a stiff brandy, but it would suffice.

He grimaced. “The moment she arrives, Seelye.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Then very well. Come on, Mr. Milton. I believe my room is this way.”

The man jumped up, managing somehow to bow and walk at the same time. “Excellent, your grace! I’m sure that’s a wonderful idea! I have been thinking, you know, you have a delightful head of hair! What do you say to a Brutus cut? It’s all the rage!”

Good God, the man was a rabbit who spoke only in exclamation points. “Shave it bald, Mr. Milton.”

“What?” he squeaked.

“All off. Not a hair left. Naked as—” He swallowed his next words as not very ducal.

“But! But! But—”

Radley grinned, though he made sure his back was turned. It wasn’t nice to take out his temper on the hapless rabbit that cut hair. “Never mind, Mr. Milton. Pick a style, use your scissors, but remember this—” He turned and glared at the man. “If you ask me one question about what you’re about to do, I shall grab a razor and shave myself bald.”

The rabbit blinked. “Your grace is joking?” he whispered.

“No.”

The man dipped into another bow, temporarily hiding his horrified gaze. “Yes, your grace.”

“Glad we understand each other.” Then he tromped
past
his library and headed up the stairs.

What the bloody hell did she mean by “your life is in danger”?

***

Wendy sat and stared at the walls of her old home. No one had rented the rooms. She understood that now. Damon had arranged for her to be tossed out, so that she would be forced to turn to him for lodging.

She knew that without experiencing any niggling of doubt. She could process that as she sat inside her empty home and stared at the pocked and dirty walls.

He had instigated the theft of Penny’s home, he had incited a madman to attack Irene, and he had done it all as a way to isolate Wendy. The thought was depraved, and yet it made perfect sense. Damon had systematically tried to destroy everything that allowed Wendy to function outside of his circle. Destroy the dress shop, and Wendy would have no choice but to deal vingt-et-un to survive. Isolate her from her friends, and she would have no one to help her but Damon. Threaten her brother, and Wendy would kiss him in public, even allow Damon to bend her backward over a railing, so that he would not break Bernard’s legs as an example to others.

And now, he would kill Radley.

She touched the earrings. Blood had crusted over them, and she winced at the feel as she tugged them free. But before she pulled them out of her ears, she stopped herself. It was bad enough that Radley was at risk. She would not add to the problem by threatening her brothers as well.

It was a ridiculous thought. No one knew she was here, and Damon certainly couldn’t have spies watching her in a dark and empty room. And yet, she let her hand fall away, her spirits depressed as never before.

She had been a fool to think she could handle Demon Damon alone. She who had built a successful business, who had solved problems since she was able to talk, had arrogantly assumed she could handle anything, including a demon. And now, he was going to kill the man she loved.

She swiped her face, hating the tears that wet her hands. What a useless creature she was. When had she become so stupid as to fall in love? And not just in love—that was disastrous enough—but in love with Radley? He was a duke. She was a seamstress. He was proper, she a thief. He kept telling her how good she was, and now she would have to tell him everything.

Everything.

She felt her earrings again, wincing at the pain. And she cried.

Radley was bringing his cousin lemonade at the ball when Wendy was announced. He’d been insane with worry, building steadily to a towering rage, when hour after hour passed with no word. In the end, he’d managed to keep himself from killing his family and staff. In truth, the entire day had been an exercise in restraint. Stand still and be fitted, sit quietly and have his hair cut, wait patiently for a response from his footmen. Nod when his mother showed him her dress and hold the right fork, when all he wanted was to tear apart the city in search of Wendy. He’d have drunk himself through half his brandy, but he wanted to be clear-headed in case she needed him.

He tried to remember that he was a sailor, and all sailors knew that sometimes, the wind blew ill. All he could do was wait it out, watching for the moment to make his move. That moment came barely into the first set at Miss Diane Beckam’s coming out ball.

Wendy was announced.

He whipped his head up, nearly dropping the delicate teacup all over Eleanor. Only her quick reflexes saved her from disaster, and he didn’t have the courtesy to care. He abandoned his cousin without a word and headed straight to where Wendy stood waiting to greet her host and hostess.

She was dressed simply, the gown made of light blue cotton rather than stunning silk. She looked like the bright blue sky, fair wind after a storm. The thought was fanciful, but then again, it was always that way with her. She was a goddess of the air, and he would always be blown back to her.

So he crossed to her side, or at least, he tried to. He had underestimated how much every soul wished to speak with him, to touch him, to draw his attention to them. He could scarce take two steps before a half-dozen people found an excuse to talk to him. It was maddening. Shoals everywhere, and no way to tack around some of them.

In the end, he resorted to rudeness, roughly pushing away, or simply refusing to stop, no matter what the obstacle. It took no more than ten minutes to get to Wendy, but he’d felt every second like the snap of an untethered rope in a high wind.

And then he caught her. A touch on her elbow, and she settled by his side. He exhaled in relief and saw an echoing release on her face. He also saw that she had been crying, that her earlobes were bleeding beneath emerald bobs, and that her stiffened shoulders meant she was resolved to do a task. Resolved, determined, and terrified.

He saw it all in that one moment when he locked her into his side. He remembered belatedly to greet her properly. He had to remember there were people watching his every move, and now, hers by extension.
Who
was
she
to
him?
they whispered.

He bowed deeply, kissing her hand in greeting, as if she were a queen. He watched her skin flush a dull pink before fading back to gray. Like the brief fullness of a sail before the wind stalled again.

“Wendy, what is it?”

Four words, and then he saw something he’d never thought to see. She was lost. He saw tears in her eyes, chaos in her emotions, and a complete lack of coordination. Her hand went to her face, her foot stepped to the side, and her gaze remained on him. And he, fool that he was, just stood there and gaped.

Until a woman jostled him from behind. Good lord, did they not have any other tricks? He had never thought that the words “falling all over him” were literal.

The woman gasped a false apology as she managed to press her thigh against him while flashing her bosom. He gave her no more attention than he would a passing shark. She was of no danger so long as he did not swim in her waters. So while she tried to entice him with her charms, he placed Wendy’s hand on his arm and steered her onto the dance floor.

It was a waltz, and he vaguely remembered that such a dance signified something important. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. He had her in his arms, and no one would disturb them as he whirled her about the room.

“I can’t dance,” she whispered. “I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do. Just relax, and let me steer.” Then he smiled. “Three beats—one two three, one two three, one two three.”

They began to dance. She was resistant at first, her steps halting, but in this he was the master. And she needed the support. So he sailed them in and around the couples in the room, and he never dropped his gaze from hers.

“I spent the day looking for you,” he said. “I sent out footmen and messages…”

“I know. I missed you at the tailor’s and the cobbler’s.”

“I was with a rabbit of a dance master. And he was nothing compared to the idiot who instructed me on how to talk to men.”

She frowned. “You don’t know how to talk to men?”

“I don’t know how to talk to you, Wendy. What has happened?”

She swallowed, and he felt her tense. But he would not allow her to stop her words. He needed her answers, and so he spun her quickly to disorient her, using the motion to pull her tighter into his arms.

“You can trust me,” he whispered. “Tell me what happened?”

“The… The man who… The one I owe money to…” She blinked, and he saw the shimmer of tears.

“Has he hurt you?”

“I… That’s not…” She shuddered. “He means to kill you. He told me this morning. He said he would kill you.”

Her note had said as much, but it made no sense. “Why? What have I done?”

She shrugged. “I spent the night with you and not him.”

He tripped. It was a small misstep, but significant enough that he might have fallen. In this, she was the one who steadied him, and soon he was whirling them around again. “You had planned to…”
Sleep
with
him?

“I was supposed to work in the gambling hell.” She looked away.

“You swore that you would not work there anymore!” he all but snarled.

She flashed him a frustrated look. “And I didn’t! I was supposed to, but I was with you instead.”

He felt his blood heat at the memory of what they’d done last night. “But Wendy—”

“I deal vingt-et-un. I wear clothing that… that distracts. I ply the gentlemen with wine and let them ogle my breasts. The money I should have made last night would have gone to the debt. But…”

He released a breath, the tightness in his chest easing. “So you were supposed to pay him last night?”

“Yes.”

“And when you didn’t show…?”

“He waited at my home. Mama let him in, and he…”

His eyes narrowed. He saw again the blood beneath her earbobs. “How did he hurt you?”

“It was nothing,” she said, her grip tightening on his arms. “Listen to me. He means to kill you!”

“So you have said, but I need to know more. How will he do it? What resources does he have?” Simple questions, but he could tell she didn’t have the answers. Whoever this bastard was, he had her thoroughly cowed. She was terrified and half convinced that Radley was already dead. “People have tried to kill me before. Not just on the boat, but in marketplaces and on the docks. Footpads, religious zealots, pirates—all are simply violent men who wish to hurt someone for some reason. Understanding them is the key to ending the threat.”

She swallowed and nodded, but still she had no answers beyond the obvious. “He has men who will do his bidding. A knife in the dark. A gunshot when you go riding.” She shuddered, her eyes going to his as she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I thought…”

He squeezed her tighter. “Don’t worry. Just tell me his name.” The music was ending, the dance slowing. In a moment, they were standing, but he did not release her. “His name, Wendy.”

He could tell she didn’t want to speak, but there was no choice. The words came out in a whisper, and he read the name off her lips. And in that moment, he knew it had been inevitable. She spoke the one name that still haunted his nightmares, the one man who had ripped away the mirage of his perfect childhood.

“Demon Damon.”

***

Wendy felt the name hit him. She’d worried that he would explode or rage or do any of the things she’d seen him do over ten years ago when his sister had suffered at Damon’s hands. She felt his body go rigid, then she tensed to keep him from doing anything rash.

But in that moment, she saw how much he had matured from the boy he’d been. The words hit him, his body stilled, and then she saw a kind of joy hit his face. It wasn’t happiness. Far from it. But it was purpose and direction. As if she had given him the direction, and now, he did what he’d always been born to do. He sailed. But to what, if not certain death?

“Radley—”

“Don’t worry, my Wind,” he said with a fond smile. “The dance is done. Come, let us step to the side.”

He didn’t give her a chance to argue. He simply took her arm and guided her to the edge of the floor. People tried to stop him, many attempted to gain his attention, but he moved around and between them as if by magic. And when he stopped, they stood before his sister and her fiancé.

“Caroline, would you mind staying with Miss Drew for a while? You may have to escort her home.”

His sister frowned, clearly sensing something was happening. “Of course—”

“Hartfell,” he said to his sister’s fiancé, “if you have a moment, I’d like a word.”

He made to leave, but Wendy gripped his arm. “You cannot go. You cannot…” Her voice trailed away because she could see he wasn’t even listening. He gently disengaged her fingers and then touched her chin.

“I am not insane, nor am I frightened. Remember who I am now—”

“But—”

“I know how to settle disputes between men.”

“He will—” Her voice choked off. She could not be the cause of his death. She could
not
.

“No, love, he will not.” Then he pushed her gently toward his sister before turning to Hartfell. “We have something in common tonight. Would you join me?”

The Scot gave him a hearty grin. “I love a little high jinks.”

Radley didn’t answer, except to move steadily toward the door. Caroline came to stand beside Wendy, watching them leave with a worried frown.

“Where are they going?” she asked.

To
their
deaths.
She almost said the words, but then she knew she would endanger Caroline as well. What woman would stand still while her fiancé faced a demon?

“It’s nothing,” she lied. “But I’m afraid I don’t feel well. I believe I shall—”

“Run after them to keep them from being stupid?”

Wendy turned to the woman she’d known since girlhood. There was steel there that hadn’t existed when she was young. Life had taught her a great deal.

“Yes,” said Wendy.

“Then come along. I’ll make our excuses to mother, and we’ll be off. You know where they are going?”

“I know where they will end up.” Then she gripped Caroline’s hand, knowing the woman’s history. “They are going to confront Damon Porter.”

Caroline paled, but there was no backing down in her stance. If anything, she became more determined.

“You call for the carriage. I shall make sure mother and Eleanor stay far away.”

And so it was done. Before long they were in the carriage, sitting in silence as they headed for the gaming hell. Wendy worried how her friend would react to confronting the villain from her childhood. But her one attempt to ask had been met with a heavy silence. Perhaps Caroline didn’t know what to say. Her expression was flat, her body completely still. When they arrived, Wendy led them inside. She’d worked here for months, so she was able to slip in. She regretted the distinctive dresses they wore and that she lacked the mask she sometimes wore.

“I am called the Green Lady here,” she said to Caroline. “Pick whatever name you want, but do not acknowledge your true self.”

Caroline nodded, and once inside, they saw Damon immediately. He was in his place on the upper deck, though he did not survey the floor. Instead, he sat lounging in his chair like a tired king reading his accounts. She even saw him yawn, and that was a shock. She had never seen him tired, much less bored, but for the first time in her life, Damon appeared exhausted.

She slowed, her eyes narrowing. What was wrong? What had
changed
?

She was busy looking around, gauging the mood of the room, but there was no time. Caroline had seen him and was climbing the stairs.

“What are you doing? Stay down here!” Wendy gasped, trying to grab hold of her friend. She was too late. And even worse, her hiss was loud enough for Damon to hear.

The man’s head snapped up, and he turned to her. His gaze met hers, eyes narrowed, and then he saw Caroline. She saw his jaw drop in shock, and his entire body stilled. Then he sat there, eyes riveted to Caroline, while his guards stepped to block her ascent.

Wendy stifled a curse, then rushed up behind her friend. She heard Damon growl a single word, and the guards stepped away. Then the two old enemies faced each other. Caroline squared off a few feet across from Damon. She stood with her eyes narrowed, and her teal gown seemed to shiver as she trembled. Meanwhile, the demon slowly pushed up from his seat until he faced her, his eyes still narrowed, but his body calm.

“Perhaps we should go downstairs,” Wendy suggested as she touched the woman’s arm.

Caroline didn’t respond. Her eyes were completely trained on Damon. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

“I do.” His voice was a coarse rasp, but it carried easily enough. “Would you like to sit down? I can have food brought up. Or wine.”

She shook her head, finally breaking his gaze long enough to look about her. “This place. It is yours?”

His lips curved in a smile, pride evident in every word. “This, two more, and numerous other businesses. Elite and impoverished alike come through my doors and fight to spend time with me.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze steady as she looked across the floor. The evening was established, and every table was full. But in the end, she returned to look at Damon.

“I made the right choice.” Her words were dismissive as she turned her back on him. “Come along, Wendy. They are not here.”

“Caroline, wait!” he said as he caught her elbow.

The woman’s reaction was immediate. Faster than anyone could have expected, she spun back and slapped Damon hard across the face. The sound carried through the hell, like the crack of an axle breaking, and abruptly, the murmurs around them paused. People looked up, card play ceased, and all were poised for Damon’s reaction.