What the Groom Wants (24 page)

Radley frowned, his mind quickly placing the man. “You must be the Bow Street runner.”

“Samuel Morrison, your grace. And you’re the secret admirer turned duke.” He stepped forward with his hand outstretched. Unfortunately, he still held his hat, so Radley ended up taking the crushed thing and passed it to Seelye.

Meanwhile, Mr. Knopp stepped around Wendy. “What did you find?”

“Hmm? Exactly what I thought. Fourteen dead—your men and theirs. Ugly fight that. The fire was started with the usual implements—nothing special there. Witnesses aren’t talking, but it’s pretty clear who’s behind it.”

Mr. Knopp frowned. “Demon Damon.”

“Yes.” The man’s steady gaze turned to Wendy. “It’s past time to tell me the rest, Miss Drew. I’ve worked out that he was behind my Penny’s trouble with the shop, and we know he set that madman onto Irene.”

“He threatened Helaine too,” she whispered. “He knows about her father.”

The runner nodded. “Damon knows secrets, so it’s no surprise he knows about the
Thief
of
the
Ton
. And he’s done all this to isolate you from your friends.”

Radley felt his eyes widen. He’d had no idea the depth of the problem. The man had been attacking her friends too? For how long? Good God, it sounded like this had been a slow game that took months, if not years!

“But that still doesn’t answer the question,” continued the runner. “Why you, Miss Drew? What does he want from you?”

In the most animation she’d shown all morning, Wendy threw up her hands and all but wailed. “I don’t know! I’ve never known!”

Mr. Morrison’s eyes narrowed. “Bloody mess there on your ears. How’d it happen?”

She touched her lobes, her hands trembling as she visibly shrunk into herself. Radley reached out and tucked her tight to his side. She resisted at first, but in the end, she was too exhausted to fight. Even so, she didn’t speak.

In that moment, he understood his mistake, understood what needed to happen to fix it. So he pressed a kiss to her forehead and spoke in a low, soothing tone. “I was wrong, you know, to say you should trust me.”

She flinched, and he rushed ahead before she could misunderstand.

“You’ve spent so long fighting this alone. I wanted you to rest, to give the burden to me. That was wrong. I didn’t understand the magnitude of the problem. I didn’t know…” His throat tightened against the grief. Henry was his best friend. “I thought I could take care of it,” he finally said. “But we are strongest together. You can’t give the problem to me. You have to work with me.”

“And me,” said Bernard.

“And a whole lot of us, I should think,” inserted Mr. Morrison. Mr. Knopp nodded in response. Even Seelye dipped his chin in agreement.

Radley flashed them a grateful smile. “See?” he said to Wendy. “Let us figure this out together.”

“Start by telling me about those bloody ears,” pressed the runner.

Wendy let her hand drop from her face. “He likes pain.”

Bloody bastard. Radley lost a few moments of time in the rush of fury that flooded his body. Not a problem for Mr. Morrison, apparently, as the man tilted his head. “What kind of pain? In what way?”

Bernard growled. “In the stabbing women kind of way. And carving them up.”

“Tch! That’s not specific enough,” said Morrison as he stepped forward. He tried to disentangle Wendy from Radley to draw her aside, but there was no way that would happen. Instead, he allowed the man to precede them back into the drawing room. Then he followed with Wendy still held tight in his arms. She wasn’t trembling anymore, thank God. And when she spoke, her words were stronger and more thoughtful.

“Not just giving pain,” said Bernard, his tone thoughtful. “Everything must be mixed with pain for him to enjoy it.”

“So giving
and
receiving,” said the runner.

She nodded. “He said…” The trembling began again, but she finished her sentence. “That I have promise. That… I could be trained.”

Mr. Morrison waved that off with a distracted air. “Anybody can be trained to enjoy pain.” Then he turned to look at her. “But I can see what he means.”

Radley stiffened. “What the bloody hell do you mean?”

It was Mr. Knopp who steadied him, stopping his explosion before it got started. “He means that she’s smart, and she gets people to do things. And anyone who can manipulate people knows the temptation to hurt them too.”

He knew it was true. After all, he’d captained a ship, been first mate for years, and before that… well, before that he’d always had people following him, doing his bidding. He’d never wanted to hurt them, but he knew the temptation. When he was angry, when they’d done something idiotic.

Looking at Wendy, he saw that in her as well. It was something they had in common. Though he’d been a golden boy with money and status—at least in their poor neighborhood—she’d been a girl on the outskirts. As poor as they came, with only her wits and her will to survive. How much stronger must be her desire to strike back, to hurt others as she’d been hurt?

“But you’re not like that,” he said softly as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “That’s not who you are.”

She looked at him, fear in her eyes. “Are you sure? I can… I can understand the need.”

His lips curved into a grim smile. “That, my Wind, is different. And entirely normal.”

“When did you hurt him, Miss Drew?” asked Mr. Morrison. “What, specifically, did you do that hurt him badly?”

She shook her head. She had no idea.

But Radley did. It was there in a blinding stroke of clarity. “You helped Caroline. You got her out of the neighborhood.”

She looked at him, her brows narrowed in confusion. “But how does that hurt him?”

“He branded her. He didn’t rape her. He carved his initials into her chest. Everyone knew what had happened. Even though he discarded her, she would live daily with everyone knowing that she was his.”

Mr. Morrison snapped his fingers. “Of course. You took away his trophy.” He glanced at Radley. “How is your sister doing now?”

“Um… better than ever. She’s engaged to Lord Hartfell.”

The runner released a huff of exasperation. “There you go. Obvious really.” Then he gestured to the butler. “Fetch my hat, will you? I’ve got to report this to the constable. Let me know when you have your plan. I’ll make sure he and his men are in place.”

He started to head to the door when Bernard stepped in front of him. “Please explain to those of us who might not be as quick.”

The runner frowned. “Hmm? Oh right. Well, what did you miss?” Bernard opened his mouth, but Mr. Morrison kept talking. “Years ago, Damon brands the woman he wanted. My guess is she didn’t want him. He was humiliated, so he takes his revenge by making her relive his dominance every day of her life.”

“Caroline did
not
want him,” Wendy said. “Said he could rape her, but she would never love him.” She shrugged. “I said the same thing before he did this to my ears.”

Morrison nodded. “Clever you,” he said. “Got you out of the rape, but then he brands you. Is there some significance to the ears?”

“Yes.” The one word did not encourage him to ask more. Fortunately, the runner took the hint.

“Anyway, back to Caroline. She’s a walking, talking testament to his power back then, but in steps little Wendy. You are younger than she, are you not?”

She nodded. “Younger than everyone except Bernard.”

“Yes, so here you are, a little slip of thing, and you arrange for Damon’s trophy to escape the neighborhood. Gone is the walking testament to his power. Worse, off goes the outraged brother to sea. Your doing, I assume?”

Radley nodded, along with Wendy. “Not only that,” he said softly, “you got Henry out too and arranged for lessons for yourself.”

Morrison chuckled. “Right clever of you to take his statement of power and turn it into a means for your advancement. That must have been the icing on the cake. Made you into a right tasty morsel, and you, no more than a girl.”

“I didn’t do it for that. I just… saw an opportunity.”

“You helped,” Radley stated firmly. “You saved her, saved me and Henry, and you bartered for what you needed.” He touched her chin, turning her to look at him. “It’s when I first fell in love with you. Even back then, I knew how incredible you were.”

“Just so,” agreed the runner, as if he’d been right there. “And Damon too. How many people have defeated him? And so neatly?”

Bernard answered. “No one. No one challenges him the way you do, Wendy.”

“And he failed to isolate her. The shop is doing wonderfully. My Penny is happier than ever.” He leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye. “Increasing too now. Going to be babes running around that shop soon.”

“What?” Wendy gasped. “Congrat—”

“Yes, yes. Happiest news of my life after the day she said yes. As I said, Penny’s happy as any soon-to-be mama.”

Mr. Knopp spoke up. “My Irene has found her love. Baby’s due in the fall.”

“Which means that you, little Wendy, have done nothing but thrive, while his efforts to hurt you have failed.”

“They haven’t failed,” she gasped. “They—He—”

Radley tucked her tight against him. No one needed her to say the things she’d suffered at Damon’s hands. Henry’s… disappearance… was only the worst in a long list of horrors.

Mr. Morrison’s tone softened. “Of course, it’s been terrible, but I was speaking from the Demon’s perspective. From the way he sees it, you have succeeded at every turn, and it has only fueled his need to possess you.”

Radley understood it then. Or at least he comprehended the depth of the problem from an intellectual perspective. Emotionally, personally, he couldn’t calculate the costs to Wendy or her friends.

Rather than speak, he gathered her into his arms, lifting her into his lap as he cradled her close. She was all but limp. She was hurt and feeling powerless against such a monster, but he would not let that stand.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said. “I’m here.”

Mr. Morrison snorted. “Can’t crumple now. We’re at the endgame. And we’ve got a right good hand, don’t we?” His tone was brusque, but Radley could hear the encouragement in his words. “Got a duke and his men, Mr. Knopp and his fleet of men. I’m off to apprise the constable, and I’d guess your sister’s Scot will want a piece, not to mention Lords Crowle and Redhill. This Demon has hurt us all.”

“But how?” she said. Her voice was low and filled with despair. “How do we end this?”

“Well, I should think it’s for the fighting men to answer that.” He looked to Radley and Mr. Knopp. “My job is to figure out the pieces. I’ve done that. Will happily consult in the planning. But, all in all, I’d think you should look to your duke. I think he’s already got an idea.”

Radley raised his eyebrows in surprise. The man was right. He did have a plan.

Damon

I will marry you. Tomorrow at two o’clock, Father Wollet’s church. But know that I have conditions.

—W

Wendy pressed her list of demands into the neatly folded note. Then she sealed the envelope and handed it to her brother. Bernard hesitated as he took the missive, his young eyes troubled.

“Are you sure you want to do this? The duke—”

“Still doesn’t fully understand what’s happening. He’s a sailor, not a London kingpin.”

“But he’s got a right smart plan.”

She nodded. It was a good plan and simple enough to work. They had to get Damon into a public place with his men around him. Then someone would goad him into attacking. The Demon was a patient, calculating man, but some insults no man could bear. Not in front of his men. And once Damon attacked, he could be killed. While the constable looked on as witness, Radley would defend himself, and Damon would die.

“It’s still his plan,” she told her brother. “We are changing the location, that’s all.”

Bernard shook his head, dismay in every line of his body.

Wendy sighed. “It takes an even exchange on both sides to make a bargain. Radley and I won’t ever work out. It can’t. Not with him a duke and me with nothing.”

“He loves you. You love him. That should be enough.”

She looked at her baby brother, at the determination and the hope still in him. How young he looked sometimes. Or perhaps, it was that she was so old with all romantic notions crushed from her. “It is not enough,” she said. “You know that as well as I.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off.

“This is what I want. But I need you, Bernard. I can’t do it without—”

“I know my part. But I never thought it would be to do this.”

She touched his face, seeing maturity where before she had seen only softness. “Thank you.”

“It ain’t a good thing,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

She echoed his tone, bringing back her accent from their old neighborhood. “It ain’t a bad thing neither. It just is.”

He nodded once. Then suddenly, she was wrapped in his arms. Like hard bands of steel, they wrapped around her as he buried his face in her neck. “I’m sorry, sis. I’m so sorry.”

She hugged him back, her eyes wet with tears. “You heard what Mr. Morrison said. This thing started when you were ten. It had nothing to do with you.”

“But if I hadn’t gambled—”

“Then he would have gotten Mama to do it, or he would have found another way. It’s not your fault.” Then she straightened. “But you can help me fix it.”

She watched his face harden with resolve. “Henry wouldn’t let you do it. If he were here—”

“But he isn’t. You are. And you know this is the only way.”

He nodded, his expression troubled. But it didn’t change the resolve in his face.

“I love you, Bernard,” she whispered.

“Well, you know I love you,” he said, his tone surly. “Only love can make me do something this stupid.” Then he gave her a last look before he left, his movements surprisingly quick and silent.

Which left her alone in her bedroom to stare at the night sky and brood. The day had progressed in slow, torturous agony. She’d had to tell Mama the news that Henry was missing. Then she’d had to sit and watch her mother grasp at every possibility that her eldest son was still alive.

Maybe he was at his woman’s place. Had anyone gone there? Maybe he’d escaped the fire. He was an excellent swimmer. Maybe he hadn’t been on the ship at all. Every knock at the door, every shuffle down the hall, brought her head up as she strained to see if Henry had magically appeared.

He never did. Then Radley had returned from the docks. Wendy knew the truth the moment she’d seen his face. His body sagged with every step, and his eyes were rimmed with red. The conclusions were inescapable. Henry was dead, Radley couldn’t save her, and so Wendy had made her plans.

And now, everything was set in place. She just had to wait for Damon’s response. He would be at the church with a special license. She knew him that well at least, so she sat and brooded.

She barely heard the knock on her door. Her eyes were trained on the hot coals in the fireplace. The way the flames danced before her eyes made her mind go blank. So she stared, and she didn’t even respond when the door opened.

“Wind?”

Radley’s voice broke her out of her blank state. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry about that. But one look at his drawn expression, and her own misery faded. The guilt was so stark on his face.

“Radley,” she whispered as she stood. “Oh God, it’s not your fault. You warned him.”

He stepped into the room, hesitated, and then wrapped her in his arms. She hadn’t realized she’d crossed to him until she felt him enfold her. He wore no coat or waistcoat—just his shirt and cravat, pulled askew. So when he enfolded her, there was little fabric between them, and God, his warmth was exactly what she wanted. She hadn’t known she was so cold until he pulled her into his heat. Even better, when he held her, she felt lifted. Not just in body, but in her heart too. Simply by touching her, he made everything easier because she was not so alone.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” he said against her hair.

“I couldn’t face everyone. Mama finally fell asleep, and so I came here.”

He tightened his grip for a second. “I’ll go if you want to be alone. Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything—”

“Just this. Just. This.” She buried her face in his chest, hearing the steady thump of his heart. He kissed the top of her head, tucking her tighter against him. And they stood that way for a long time.

Then he shifted, quietly picking her up before crossing to her chair by the fire. It was a large chair done in feminine lines. When he sat in it, the wood creaked, but held. And when she made to lift off his lap, he tightened his arms.

“You’re going to stay here and eat something,” he said firmly.

She smiled but shook her head. “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach was tied in knots. Seelye had brought a tray earlier, but it sat untouched.

Radley reached for an apple slice, apparently meaning to force her to eat, but she stopped him with a touch of her fingertips on his arm.

“I can’t. Really. It won’t stay down.”

He shot her a worried frown, which she ignored as she curled against his shoulder. She wanted to be in his arms. She just wanted—“We don’t have to go through with the plan,” he said softly. “Not right away.”

She flinched. “I’ve already sent the letter to Damon. Bernard took it an hour ago.”

“You told him you wanted to talk? You told him to come to your old home? In the old building?”

“Yes,” she lied, feeling swamped in guilt.

“That’s all you need to do. He’ll pick the time, probably early afternoon tomorrow. Long enough to get my men in place. The constable will be there too—plus Crowle and Hartfell. We’ll catch him then.”

She nodded, knowing that Radley and his men would be at the wrong place. “What will you do?” she asked. She needed to know that more than anything. So much hinged on his answer.

He didn’t respond at first, but she heard his heart speed up and knew that he was afraid to tell her. But in the end, he spoke, his words clear and deliberate. “He is a monster, Wendy. He hurts people, and he carves up women. I was a fool for not killing him years ago.”

“No,” she said, straightening to look him in the eye. “There was still hope for him even then, I think.” Then when he pressed his lips together, shaking his head, she changed her thoughts. “Very well. Even then it was too late, but what about you? What would have happened if you’d killed him then?”

“You would not have spent the last year in terror of that bastard.”

“But you would have changed.” She felt herself grip his shirt as she struggled to compare the boy he’d been then with the man he was now. “I remember when I heard about what you’d done to Damon. I heard that you’d beaten him to within an inch of his life, but you hadn’t killed him.”

“I should have finished it—”

“I thought, that’s a real man. Someone who thinks about what he does and why. Someone who has control.”

He snorted. “It wasn’t control. I was blind with fury.”

“And yet, you stopped.”

He tugged her back to lie against him. “I stopped because I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill a man, even in rage.” Then his tone strengthened, and she heard the steel in his voice. “I can now.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you can. Not in a temper. Not in—”

“Wendy, I will kill Damon tomorrow. He has gone too far.”

No, she thought silently, he wouldn’t. “One of the things I love about you is that you think before you act. And when you have decided—”

“I do what is needed.”

Yes. Just as she would. “We are a pair in that,” she said, “but I don’t think the way you do. I weigh advantage and bargains. You thought of justice and hoped for atonement.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking her locks as he thought about her words. “I love that in you. You turn a disadvantage into profit. I think you take any weakness and make it work for you.”

Her belly clenched at his words. Not the admiration in his tone, but that he used the word “love” in such a way. He loved something
about
her, not that he loved her. And after tomorrow, would he be able to say that?

“I love that you have honor,” she whispered. “I don’t think I ever will.”

He jerked, startled. “What do you mean by that? Of course you have honor!”

She shook her head. “You said it yourself. I barter. My honor is a good bargain—one in which both parties benefit. And failing that, one in which I benefit.”

“You bargain for survival. And to help your friends and family. I’ll wager everything I own that you have never cheated a customer.”

She sighed. “You would lose. I stole Lady Strichen’s emeralds, remember?”

He nodded, and his expression tightened. “Have you done it again? Ever?”

She bit her lip, unable to answer. And as the clock ticked away the seconds, he adjusted her so he could look into her face. So she confessed her sin. Not the big sin that had yet to happen. Not her coming betrayal, but the last shame of her past.

“I collect secrets,” she whispered. “I hear them, you know, from the ladies who come to the dress shop. I write them down and look at them from time to time.”

“Secrets?”

“Who is sleeping with who. Who did a favor for someone they shouldn’t have. And, best of all, who has money and how they got it.” She flashed a smile. “Most society women have their own money, and it isn’t always given to them by their husbands.”

He stared at her a moment, and then his eyes danced with merriment. “You amaze me. I never would have thought that important.”

It was important and valuable. And he would not be alone in underestimating what women know.

“Did you blackmail anyone? Did you use the secrets?”

She shook her head. “No, but I have thought about it.” A great deal.

“Of course you did. It would be hard not to. But as long as you never do anything with the information, I have no quarrel with you. It is simply bits of knowledge you acquired.” He touched her chin, tilting her so that he could kiss her lips. “I care about actions, Wind. And you have done nothing wrong.”

Yet. She had done nothing wrong yet. He didn’t know she was about to cross that line irrevocably. Fortunately, he didn’t give her time to speak. Any urge to confess was drowned beneath the touch of his lips against hers, the seeking caress of his tongue.

She opened immediately. More than anything else, she wanted him to touch her again. Now. Tonight. Before everything changed tomorrow.

Then he pulled back, his eyes dark and his hands damnably still. “If this is too soon…”

She grabbed his shirt, snapping off two buttons as she crumpled the fine linen in her fists. “Love me,” she said. Then she yanked him forward with all the fear and desperation and grief that twisted inside. “Love me!”

He smiled and touched her hands. He didn’t understand that her last words were a command. Or maybe, he did, because his expression gentled to something so tender she had to stare. It was so different that at first, she couldn’t process it.

“I do,” he said. “I already do.”

She stared, and eventually, sputtered a question. “W-what?”

He chuckled. That he could laugh after this day was a joy. A pure joy that when she felt as if her whole world was collapsing, he found the words to shore everything up.

“I love you, my Wind. And if you will let me, I will love you for the rest of our days.”

She laughed, the sound watery. “I’ll settle for tonight.”

“I won’t.” He dropped his forehead against hers. “You’ve promised to marry me. I haven’t forgotten.”

Neither had she. But tomorrow he would likely rescind that offer. “Just now, Radley. I can’t think about tomorrow.”

His hand was on her cheek, brushing away the tears she hadn’t realized were wetting her face. “Don’t think, love. Just kiss me.”

Exactly what she wanted to hear. So she kissed him with all the mix of emotions that churned inside. He took it all into him—the pain, the fear, and most especially, her love—and gave back such adoration he stole her breath away.

He toyed with her tongue, letting her tease him until that moment when he took control. He dominated her, owning every part from teeth to tongue to the roof of her mouth. And then, a growl rumbled through him, low and hungry. The sound thrilled her, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tighter against her.

Then she was weightless, her mind wrapped in his kiss while he stood, carrying her in his arms. She barely noticed except when he set her gently on her bed. He tried to pull away then, but she’d wrapped her arms so tightly around him, he couldn’t break away.

He’d managed to separate their bodies enough that his hands could roam. Shoulder to chest to hips, his large hands stroked her. Then while she moaned her hunger, he found the buttons of her dress. An excellent idea, she thought, as she shifted her grip to finish what she’d started on his shirt. But as she tugged at his cravat, he choked and pulled back.