When You Give a Duke a Diamond (3 page)

“That does add to her appeal,” Pelham conceded, unabashed. After all, what was marriage but a business arrangement? One might as well make the most advantageous arrangement one could. He had not become the wealthy, influential sixth Duke of Pelham because his ancestors went about marrying commoners or—God forbid—courtesans. Lady Elizabeth was the daughter of a marquess. She was accomplished, intelligent, and dowered with a critical piece of land. She was not overly pretty, but she had a pleasing aspect. More important, they agreed on essential matters. They both liked routine. They liked to live quietly and with dignity. They avoided the theatrics and goings-on of the beau monde Darlington and his ilk so relished. Marrying Lady Elizabeth would guarantee Pelham a staid, settled, stately future.

And that was exactly what he wanted. And exactly what he would have once he took care of one small, distasteful detail.

Eliza knew she was a fool. She shouldn’t have come back; only a fool would return. But she didn’t know how else to stop the shaking. She didn’t know how else to staunch the gnawing hunger inside her. Neither food nor drink could satisfy it.

Only the game.

She gave her wrap to the squinting majordomo of Lucifer’s Lair and strolled to her favorite hazard table. She could all but feel the eyes of the other patrons upon her. They knew who she was. She prayed to God they didn’t know what she had done.

She prayed to the devil Lucifer didn’t suspect her.

She spotted Lucifer at one of the faro tables and almost turned back. If she had any sense, she would run and keep running. Instead, she continued on her trek, as though guided by an unseen force. She couldn’t resist the lure of the table, of the game.

Lucifer’s dark brown eyes—so dark they were all but black—followed her. He didn’t turn his head—framed by luxurious waves of black hair with a distinctive white streak—when she moved out of his line of vision, but she knew he tracked her every move.

She stopped at the hazard table, and Raphael, her favorite setter, asked, “Would you like to join the game, madam? Mr. Abernathy has just thrown out, and Mr. Canby is the next caster.”

“Thank you. I think I shall simply watch.” That was a lie. She would play, but she wanted to watch Canby first.

Canby put down a fiver and said, “Six.” He lifted the dice.

“Six is the main,” Raphael repeated. “The bet is five pounds.”

Canby tossed the dice, and Eliza felt her heart beat faster. She hadn’t even bet on the roll, and she could already feel her blood rushing. The first die rolled to a stop—a one. The second die teetered then turned up a two.

“Three,” Raphael announced and scooped up the fiver. “Would you like to cast again, Mr. Canby?”

Canby turned to her. “Perhaps the lady might like a go?”

But before Eliza could nod her agreement, Gabriel, Lucifer’s most trusted man, stood at her right arm. “My lady, if you would accompany me, please.”

It wasn’t a request. Dear God, she should not have come. She had no choice but to swallow and nod acquiescence, to follow Gabriel into the mouth of hell, Lucifer’s private chambers.

A trickle of perspiration teased a slow path down her back. It was suddenly very warm in the gambling hell, made more so by the gazes upon her. But when she looked at the men watching her, none would meet her gaze. Her stomach churned, and her breath came in short pants. She could not tell if the feeling was excitement or fear.

But then that had always been her problem—fear produced excitement—and no one provoked either fear or excitement like Lucifer.

She followed Gabriel up the steep, narrow stairs to the floor above the gaming hell, where Lucifer’s private rooms lay. Gabriel looked every bit the angel from whence he’d taken his name. He had long blond hair, a slim, chiseled face, and a smooth, melodic voice. He was too perfect, too polished, and he made her nervous. She had been to Lucifer’s private rooms before and knew the way. But would Gabriel take her to Lucifer’s library or his bedchamber? If the library, she faced certain death.

Of course, the bedchamber was little better.

Gabriel paused in front of the door to the bedchamber, opened it, and moved aside to admit Eliza. She gave him a smile full of confidence she didn’t feel and stepped inside. The door closed in her face, and she heard the key turn in the lock.

Trapped.

She put her hand on the thick wooden door, painted black to match the décor in the rest of the room. The walls, the drapes, the furnishings—all were appointed in black silk. Only the bed, a monstrous thing, displayed any color. It was adorned in blood-red silk. She had lain on that bed, naked and trembling, feeling like a sacrificial lamb as Lucifer knelt over her.

And she had left him sleeping on that slippery scarlet silk. She’d walked away—but not empty-handed.

What had she done? Now she rested her forehead on the door beside her hand. The wood was warm to the touch.

Something cold and hard clenched her bare shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Eliza stifled a scream but just barely. She had forgotten Lucifer’s partiality for hidden entrances and exits. She had not even heard him enter. She forced herself to smile, even though she felt her lips quiver. “You know I can’t stay away.”

“Why do I have the feeling it’s not me that keeps you coming back?”

“What else is there?”

“Indeed.” He pried her hand from the door, turned her palm up, and kissed it. She sighed despite herself. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured, looking at her from under those sooty black lashes.

“And I you,” she breathed as he swept her into his arms. His mouth descended on hers, and his hands were rough on her bottom as he lifted her and pushed her against the black silk of the wall.

Eliza felt his fingers skate up her bare thigh and surrendered to the assault. Did he know? Was he simply toying with her before killing her?

No, he couldn’t know. She’d been so careful, so meticulous.

She felt him shudder, felt his teeth sink into her flesh. She was always surprised he was human enough to climax.

He put his cheek next to hers. His skin was warm, his breath hot against her ear. “Now that the pleasantries are over, I think it time we spoke of the diamonds.”

Eliza jerked, but his hands held her fast, and she cringed as he laughed—long, low, and malevolent.

Juliette covered a yawn and nodded to her sleepy-eyed butler as he opened the door of her town house. To the east, the sun rose, streaking the sky with pinks and oranges. For once, London’s omnipresent fog had fled.

“Duchess.” Hollows nodded at her, closing the door. As was customary, the butler did not wear livery, but Hollows always managed to look distinguished in black with a white rose on his lapel. His height and stern expression gave him a dignified appearance.

“I’m exhausted,” Juliette said, turning so he could take her wrap. “I want to sleep for a week.”

“Yes, Duchess. Shall I rouse Mary?”

Juliette blinked, momentarily confused, and then remembered she’d given Rosie and most of the servants the night off. Tomorrow night—tonight, she amended—was the prince’s ball, and she wanted them well rested before her preparations began.

But that was later. Now she wanted to sleep. She should not have stayed out so late, but the play had been witty, Vauxhall Gardens filled with the most entertaining men and women in London, and before she had realized, it was nearly morning. Rosie would have a difficult task ahead of her if Juliette was to look stunning at Carlton House tonight.

“Yes, Hollows, do rouse Mary and send her to my chamber.” Juliette felt bad about waking the girl—she, Hollows, and Cook were the only servants not given the night off—but Juliette did not relish sleeping in her stays and gown, and she could not get them off by herself. Once she was undressed, she would send Mary back to bed and finish her toilette on her own.

Juliette started up the steps. “Off to bed with you, Hollows,” she said over her shoulder. “I shan’t need you for several hours.”

“Yes, Duchess.”

Juliette’s feet felt like cannonballs—not that she had ever touched a cannonball, but she imagined they were impossibly heavy. Why had she agreed to so many dances? No, she had never been good at denying herself pleasure when it was to be had, and tonight the music had been lively, the gentlemen agreeable, and her spirits high. She could have danced until noon.

Thank God she hadn’t. One day she would learn to think of the consequences before she acted.

She stepped onto the first-floor landing and started for the stairs to the second floor, where her bedchamber was located. The doors to the drawing room were closed, but Juliette paused when she heard a sound from within. She stopped, pressed her ear to the doors, and listened.

Silence.

She shook her head. She was so tired, her mind was deceiving her.

She started for the steps again and heard an unmistakable thump. Whirling, she did not hesitate but ran straight to the banister. “Hollows!” Her heart hammered in her chest. “Hollows! C—”

A hand clamped over her mouth, and she was propelled backward, losing one slipper as she was dragged.

Oliver.

He had come for her, as he’d vowed he would. She’d grown complacent, dismissing her additional footmen for the night. How could she have been so foolish? Now he would kill her. Hollows, who was rather hard of hearing, would never even hear her scream.

Juliette kicked and clawed, but she couldn’t escape. The man—she assumed it was a man because the hands were so large—had grasped her about the waist to haul her back more quickly. His hand on her mouth tightened and began to cut off her air. She tried to gasp in a breath as the drawing-room doors slammed, and a man she did not know stepped before them.

“Hello, Duchess,” he said.

She blinked and swallowed, still trying to catch her breath.

It wasn’t Oliver.
Thank
God.

The man was dressed stylishly in black. His hair was the color of midnight with a streak as white as the pearls at her throat. He smiled at her, but his eyes were dark and menacing. Juliette thought perhaps she might reserve her thanks a few more moments.

“I’d like to have a brief chat,” the man said. “Gabriel, she’s turning purple. Do lift your hand. You won’t scream, will you, Duchess?”

She shook her head, having every intention of screaming as soon as this Gabriel removed his paw from her mouth. Even if Hollows didn’t hear, the cook or Mary might.

“Good, because if you do, you won’t like the consequences—for you and whoever comes to your aid.”

Gabriel removed his hand, and Juliette kept her mouth clamped shut. Something about the man in black made her believe he could make her very sorry indeed if she did not do as he bid. She had been made very sorry before for disobedience and, subsequently, had become quite good at doing as she was told. For a decade, she had been her own independent woman, but now she felt seventeen again. All her survival instincts resurfaced.

She stepped away from the man called Gabriel and cut her eyes to take in the room. The usually stylish, immaculate room was in complete shambles. The expensive drapes had been ripped to ribbons, the newly upholstered chair cushions spilled their filling, antique lamps were overturned, and the heavy drawers scattered their contents on the rug.

Escape was her only salvation. She had to find a means to escape. But she couldn’t allow these men to know she was afraid or planned to run. The punishment would come faster then.

“Looking for something?” she croaked.

The man in black smiled again, and this time it almost reached his obsidian-colored eyes. “Very perceptive, Duchess. May I call you Duchess?” He moved smoothly to a toppled chair, righted it, and sat as though he was perfectly at ease. As though this were his home, not hers.

Juliette bristled, but she was too adept at hiding her emotions to show it. The Countess of Sinclair had taught her well.

“I prefer Mrs. Clifton,” she said, though no one had called her that in years. Oliver had used that name, and she’d come to hate it. But it seemed appropriate at this moment.

“Why don’t I call you Juliette? It seems fitting, as we are going to be good friends, Juliette.”

Her throat tightened. She had to get out of here. “And what should I call you?” she asked coolly.

“Lucifer, of course. Do you know what I want to discuss, Juliette?”

She shook her head. Dear God, she prayed he wasn’t going to rape her. Her mind was racing, trying to place him. But he wasn’t familiar to her at all. She didn’t think she could have spurned him. She would have remembered, and she was always gentle with those whose attentions she rejected.

Could Oliver have sent him?

No, her former husband liked to do his own work. “Actually, I don’t know what you wish to discuss, Lucifer,” Juliette replied with strained politeness. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Oh, come, come. We are friends. We can be honest with each other.”

She shook her head, cutting her gaze to the drawing-room doors. If she ran, could she make it in time? Even as the thought occurred to her, Gabriel—large and blond—stepped in front of the doors and crossed his arms.

“I am being honest with you,” she said to Lucifer, panic rising in her throat now. “I don’t know you.” But even as she spoke she could see he didn’t believe her. She could see she was doomed.

Lucifer raised a brow. “But
I
know
you
, and I know you have something of mine. Now, are you going to tell me about the diamonds, or am I going to have to find more creative methods of loosening your tongue?”

***

Juliette tried to steady her hands, but when she set her tea cup on the tray on her bed, the china rattled. She was so tired, and yet every time she closed her eyes, her mind raced with what ifs and should haves.

“Drink your tea, sweetie,” Lily said. She was seated on one side of Juliette’s bed, and Fallon was on the other. Juliette had sent Hollows to fetch them as soon as Lucifer and Gabriel had gone. The butler had wanted to fetch the magistrate, but Juliette refused. Lucifer had been rather explicit about what would happen if she went public about their so-called discussion.

“She doesn’t need more tea.” Fallon rose hastily. “She’s had three cups. What she needs is three fingers of brandy.”

Juliette shook her head. “No. What I need is sleep, but I’m too overwrought. I keep thinking about that man—Lucifer.”

“And you’re certain Oliver didn’t send him?”

“Oliver had no part in this. This Lucifer didn’t care about me. He kept hounding me about diamonds. I cannot understand why he should think I would have them.”

“Are you certain you don’t want us to send for the magistrate?” Lily asked.

“Yes! I told you no magistrate!”

“But what if this Lucifer returns?” Fallon asked, pouring herself a splash of brandy from the decanter on the dainty table across from Juliette’s bed. “Are you certain you convinced him you don’t have the diamonds?”

“I’m not certain of anything. I tried to keep my composure, to reason with him and explain, but when he threatened to pull out my fingernails, I broke down.”

“Of course you did.” Lily hugged her. “That man was horrible and obviously has you mistaken with someone else.”

Juliette shook her head. “No. He knew who I was, and he thought I stole his diamonds.”

Fallon, who was an accomplished pickpocket, laughed. “You’ve never stolen anything in your life.”

“That’s what I told him. But he kept insisting we were friends, and I could tell him the truth.” She shuddered. Juliette saw the look pass between Lily and Fallon, and shook her head. “No. Whatever you two just decided, no.”

“I think you should stay home tonight,” Lily said. “I think we should all send our regrets to Prinny.”

“No.” Juliette began to rise.

“You are in no state to attend a ball,” Fallon argued, finishing her brandy. “You haven’t slept, and you’re upset. Let’s stay home tonight, and the three of us will travel to Somerville tomorrow. I know the countess will rally when she sees us.”

“I cannot miss the ball.” Juliette stood, and her legs wobbled underneath her. She clenched her jaw and steadied herself.

“It’s just a ball,” Lily argued, taking Juliette’s elbow. “There will be a hundred more.”

Juliette shook her head. “Not like this one. The entire
ton
is expecting me to be there. They want to see what happens when Pelham and I are in the same room.”

“You heard Lord Darlington yesterday,” Lily argued. “The duke is unlikely even to attend.”

“And if he disappoints,” Juliette said, ringing for Rosie, “the beau monde will forgive him. If I disappoint, I’ll swiftly fall from favor.”

“Nonsense,” Fallon said, waving to Rosie to wait outside while they finished their discussion. “If you don’t attend, it will only fuel speculation.”

Juliette gave her a level look, and Fallon notched her chin up. Juliette glanced at Lily, but Lily was looking at the toe of her pink slipper. “You know I’m right,” Juliette said. “Both of you know I’m right. We three balance on a precipice. On one edge is our hard-won notoriety. It pays our bills—along with some help from Sinclair, which none of us wants to continue to accept. On the other edge is ruin. I, for one, don’t relish spending the next dozen years hiking up my skirts in a back alley for any man with a shilling.”

“We’d never let that happen to you,” Lily said, green eyes burning with indignation.

“Then you’ll be in the alley next to mine. We three have worked too hard to get where we are to lose it all now. I’m not going to let you ruin yourself for me, and I’m not going to allow some man who calls himself Lucifer to control me.” And as soon as she ceased shaking, she would mean those brave words. She’d been controlled by a man once before and had vowed never again.

“At least have Hollows hire extra footmen for protection,” Fallon suggested.

“It’s already done, and I do think it’s a good idea to quit the city for a short while. A sojourn to Somerville is exactly what I need.”

Lily clapped her hands. “Splendid! I have the perfect dress to wear in the country.”

“You would be thinking of fashion at a time like this.” Fallon rolled her eyes.

“Speaking of fashion, we have a lot of work to do if we’re going to dazzle the
ton
tonight. Rosie!” The door opened, and Rosie poked her head in. “I hope you can do something about these dark circles under my eyes.”

“In no time, I’ll have you looking like you slept twelve hours, Duchess.”

Lily crossed to Fallon and linked arms. “I believe this is our cue to take our leave.”

Fallon shook her head. “You, Duchess, are extremely stubborn.”

Juliette smiled as she seated herself before her dressing table. “No more than you, Marchioness. I shall see both of you this evening.”

“My coach will be here at half-past nine,” Lily said. “We must arrive together to ensure the full effect.”

“Then I shall see you at half-past nine.”

When Lily and Fallon were gone, Juliette closed her eyes.

“I’m going to send for water for a warm bath,” Rosie said. “Maybe you can sleep after you’ve soaked for a time.”

“There’s no time to sleep,” Juliette said, stifling a yawn. “I have to look ravishing.”

“Oh, you let me worry about that, Duchess. In the meantime, you rest in the bath. I think we’ll scent it with lavender…”

Rosie left to fetch the water, and Juliette took a deep breath. Every muscle in her body ached. She did not know how she would make it through the ball tonight, but at least she’d have Lily and Fallon to support her. She closed her eyes again and shivered when Lucifer’s dark eyes flashed in her mind.

If
you’re lying to me, Juliette
,
I’ll kill you. Slowly. Painfully. One way or another, I will have those diamonds.