Perfect Bride (8 page)

Sebastian ignored the jibe. She looked ridiculous, standing there in that seedy, silly bonnet. He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her. “How the devil do you propose to do that?”

“As you can see, I shall be walking.” Almost defi
antly she tugged at the ribbons on her bonnet. “And you shan’t stop me.”

“You shall no more walk out than you walked in.” Hunched over, she was swaying as if she were tipsy— she looked ready to tumble over at any moment.

But her eyes blazed rebelliously. Justin was right. She was a termagant, a stubborn one at that.

“What do you propose to wear?” he asked.

“I’m afraid this night rail will have to do. But you needn’t worry. I’ll return it to your sister. Why, per
haps she’d even like the use of my clothing since I was given the use of hers.”

The hoity-toity miss again! Oh, but it was a role she’d played well, for the chit was surely high in the instep!

“Oh, I doubt that.” His eyes slid over her. “As practical as my sister Julianna is, she’s a bit more dis criminating when it comes to choice of gown. But
perhaps it’s a good thing Tansy mended your cloak and gown and cleaned your boots. I confess, I didn’t understand why she bothered.”

“Please thank her for me then. Now, where are they?”

Sebastian gestured to the highboy. He crossed to stand beside it and opened the door. “Come get them, if you like.”

The look she cast him was distinctly withering. She took one step, then managed another. With a gri
mace, she tried to straighten upright and failed. The nightgown gaped, offering a considerable and un
constrained view of swelling generous curves. He availed himself of the opportunity.

She saw.

“Why, you pompous, blue-blooded ass!” Her curse spoke glaringly of her roots in St. Giles. She clenched her fist and aimed at his jaw.

It was a pitiable effort. She pitched straight into his arms and he didn’t even have to move.

“You missed,” he said calmly.

“Let me go! You don’t want me here.”

She was leaning against him heavily, glowering through the bright golden screen of her hair. It spilled over her shoulder ...and across his sleeve. A most unusual color, he mused distantly, thick and curling and lustrous, as if it had been poured through by burnished rays of the day’s last sunlight.

He sighed. “My dear young woman, you are in
jured. Need I remind you that you are in my care?”

“Your care! Why you bothered, I’ve no idea, for you’ve made your feelings about me quite clear. Be
sides, I don’t like the way you look at me!”

Sebastian blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You look at me in quite the same manner as the men at the Crow’s Nest. But I am not a strumpet!”

A claim of righteous indignation, if ever he’d heard one.

“So if you’re going to look at me, sir, look me in the eye!”

Sir
. A distinct improvement over “blue-blooded ass.” A
vast
improvement from Lord Shyte. It ap
peared he was gaining status in her eyes.

This time he was careful to gaze into those eyes, as strikingly unusual as her hair. Surrounded by thick, dark lashes, they were almost golden, quite unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

“You’re right. It wasn’t a very gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I’m glad you realize it.” She tipped her head back to look at him, and as she did, her bonnet tumbled to the floor.

“My bonnet!” she cried. “Oh, please, I must have it!”

“It’s quite wretched,” he said before thinking bet
ter of it.

She gave a cry. “It’s not wretched! It’s beautiful and it’s mine. And so is my necklace, and as soon as I have it back, I’ll be on my way.”

Her lips were tremulous, her eyes suspiciously bright.
Please,
he prayed,
not tears
.

A strangled sob...and something inside him constricted. Damn, but he should have known. A tor
rent was imminent if he didn’t act quickly. Even as the thought spun through his mind, she tried to push her way through him to retrieve her bonnet. His hold tightened, a confining restraint that was gentle but uncompromisingly firm.

“You can’t leave,” he reminded her. “What about the constable?”

“To the devil with the constable!”

If she stayed, something would have to be done about her language.

“What about Harry?”

The question brought her gaze to his in a heart
beat. “Harry?” she whispered.

He could almost feel her terror. God knew, he de
cided grimly, he could certainly see it.

“Yes.”

“You think he’ll come after me?” Her tone wasn’t entirely steady.

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. “He won’t find you here. He’d never think to look here. Mayfair might as well be a world away from St. Giles.”

Her eyes clung to his. “You won’t let him find me?”

“Absolutely not.”

Her strength gave way. Unable to remain on her feet any longer, she sank into his arms. This time there was no outburst as he scooped her up. He was nearly to the bed when she said urgently, “Wait! My bonnet . . . please, will you fetch it?”

Sebastian obligingly retraced his steps. She clung to his neck as he bent to retrieve it. Carefully he low
ered her to the bed, then handed the bonnet to her.

She wasted no time dragging it over her head.

He watched as she wiped the tears from her eyes. In all truth, Sebastian couldn’t say what came over him. The next thing he knew, he found himself sit
ting on the side of the bed.

“You need to rest and lie quietly, Devon.”

Her eyes had been half closed. At the sound of his
voice, she opened one. “I don’t believe I gave you leave to call me by my given name,” she said with a frown.

A statement of remarkable hauteur, considering she’d just been in his arms and was now in his bed. Well, not his bed precisely, but it
was
his house.

The makings of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, swiftly suppressed, lest she see it. “May I?” he asked gravely.

“May you what?”

She was exhausted; he knew it by the shadows that ringed her eyes.

“May I call you Devon?”

“I suppose you may.” She eyed him. “But what am I to call you then?”

“Most definitely
not
Lord Shyte.”

A glimmer of a smile crossed her lips. “You prefer Lord Arse?”

“Devon!” He raised his brows. “I do believe we’ve just begun to engage a truce, you and I. Please, let’s not jeopardize it. And Sebastian will do quite nicely, I believe.”

Their eyes caught. All at once her smile wavered. She averted her head. “I really didn’t want to leave,” she confided in a small voice.

“You didn’t?”

“No. It was only because you looked so dreadfully stern.”

How flattering, he thought. Did she regard him as such an ogre then? “Yes, I know,” he murmured. “Justin is the pretty one, not I.”

Her gaze slid back. “What do you mean?”

“My dear, you just said I looked dreadful.”

She frowned. “Dreadfully stern, not dreadful.”

She was decidedly emphatic, so much so that Se
bastian was a little taken aback. But then he remem
bered the night he’d found her.
Handsome
, she’d called him.
Him
. He said nothing, merely sat there for a moment, a strange sensation in his chest. Before long, her eyelids began to droop. Then all at once she shuddered.

Sebastian leaned forward, fighting a startlingly compelling urge to brush a wayward curl from her cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“I remember lying in the street, in the cold.” Her voice plunged to a whisper. “I don’t want to wake up like that again.”

Suddenly her hands were in his. Not soft and deli
cate and gloved, like a lady’s, but chapped and red and dry. Yet so very small within his.

His fingers curled around hers. “You won’t,” he said quietly. “Now lie back and sleep, Devon.”

“I don’t think I can. I”—she hesitated—“I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That when I wake, it’ll all be gone. That you’ll be gone.”

He felt inexplicably pleased.

“And your brother, too. Justin.”

Justin
, he echoed dryly. Of course.

His grip on her fingers tightened. “I promise it’ll all be here when you awake.”

Her eyelids trembled; she hovered on the verge of sleep. A wispy sigh emerged. “This room...it’s so lovely. Truly it is. Oh, Sebastian, I...I wish I could stay here forever.”

Sebastian’s heart caught. She hadn’t cried about Harry, but she’d cried about that silly bonnet. He’d
have laughed at the picture she presented, that damnable bonnet lopsided and drooping crookedly on her forehead, if it weren’t so sad; there was some thing very poignant about her just now. Even weak as a kitten, she’d fought him—not just a battle of words, but quite literally! He suppressed a smile as he thought of the punch she’d tried to throw at him. He’d never known a woman quite so filled with spirit, unless it was Julianna. Yet somehow at this moment, the fractious Miss Devon St. James was so fragile, he was half afraid to touch her.

But somehow he couldn’t stop himself either.

Her eyes drifted shut. She murmured something inaudible.

Very slowly, with the tip of a finger, he traced the small curve of her nose, the piquant fullness of her lips, the fine-boned delicacy of her jaw. “Hush,” he whispered. An odd sensation knotted in his belly, making him catch his breath. Sweet Jesus, she was exquisite, her complexion pale and unblemished. And soft, he marveled. So soft, the texture of her lips and skin like mother-of-pearl.

His hand fell away.

Blackmail, he decided blackly. Emotional black
mail by a waif and his rogue of a brother. He didn’t know how it had happened, or even why, but some
how he’d been charmed. At the very least, disarmed.

Sweet Jesus, he couldn’t turn her out. Even if he wanted to.

Even if she did steal the silver.

ate the next day Justin came to him in his study. “I sent Avery to check on Devon’s story.” Avery had been in the service of the family for nearly twenty years; his loyalty was unquestionable, and Sebastian knew that the footman could be trusted to keep the task given him to himself.

Sebastian tapped his fingers together. “And?”

“To all accounts, it’s all true. Where she lived, where she worked.”

Sebastian’s face was grim by the time he finished. “And the pair she encountered? Harry and Freddie?”

“I’d say she was lucky to escape with her life. A dangerous pair, those two. If she killed Freddie, I’ve no doubt it was to defend her own life. I only wish Harry would join his brother in the netherworld. The world would be well rid of him.”

Sebastian nodded. “Tell Avery to keep his eyes open and his ears peeled.”

“Already done,” Justin said lightly.

When Justin was gone, Sebastian settled back to work. Work. It was impossible! He tried to put Avery’s information about Devon from his mind. He tried to put
her
from his mind. But the fear he’d glimpsed in those beautiful golden eyes continued to haunt him.

And he could still feel those small, icy fingers trapped within his.

It festered in his chest until he could stand it no longer.

It wasn’t wise. In fact, it was downright foolish. And damnably impetuous! But he could put it off no longer.

He wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d seen for him
self where Devon had come from.

An hour later, Sebastian sat among the dockhands that guzzled and swilled at the Crow’s Nest. He was dressed much as the other patrons, in rough woolen clothing. His foresight had seen to it that he attracted but a few idle glances as he ducked beneath the sign hanging outside and stepped into the dark, dimly lit establishment.

The interior was small and cramped, the mood rowdy and raucous, the language bawdy. Men crowded next to each other at long, rough-hewn ta
bles. Sebastian took a place at one of the tables.

A plump, straw-haired waitress promptly pre
sented herself. “Ye’re new ’ere, aren’t ye?” She gave him no chance to answer, but ran a finger down his sleeve. “Wot’s yer name?”

“Patrick,” he replied without blinking an eye.

“Well, Patrick, I’m Bridget. What’s yer pleasure?”

“Ale.”

A burly, bearded man across from him banged his tankard on the table. “Blimey, wot about me?” he barked. “Can’t a man get another pint round ’ere?”

“Calm yerself, Davey. Yer pint’s a-comin’.”

“Fine,” he boomed. “But where the devil is Devon?”

Every fiber of Sebastian’s body came to full alert.

The fellow next to him shrugged. “Haven’t seen ’er for a couple o’ nights. Timmie thinks she’s de
cided she’s too lofty for the likes o’ us.” He gestured to the barkeep, a hulking man whose meek name be
lied both his countenance and his girth. “ ’E’s got a new girl startin’ in the morn, ’e says. Let’s ’ope she’s half as fetchin’ as our fair Devon, eh?” He offered the fellow a wink.

Sebastian was steaming. When Bridget set a foam
ing tankard of ale before him, he wasted no time lift
ing it to his lips. By the time he lowered it, she was on her way back to the bar. The customer sitting at the end of the table grabbed a handful of her skirt and tugged her onto his lap. The suddenness of the move caused the barmaid’s heavy breasts to nearly spill out of her gown.

The man crowed. “Ah, now there’s a juicy tidbit, eh, lads!”

The girl let out a peal of laughter and they both tumbled onto the floor. He whispered in her ear and pressed something into her hand. She nodded.

Sebastian slapped a coin on the table and rose. There was no need to stay any longer. He’d seen all he needed to.

But once he was outside, he didn’t return to the spot where he’d left Jimmy, the coachman. Instead
he turned and strode deeper into the heart of St. Giles.

His business here was not yet done.

The hour was indecently late when he returned to Mayfair. As he stepped across the threshold, it crossed his mind that, for that very reason, he should expect Justin to follow soon.

Naturally Justin did.

They came face-to-face in the entrance hall.

“Sebastian?” came the sound of his brother’s shocked voice. Justin looked him up and down. “Ye gods, man, what the devil are you wearing?”

Sebastian gave a tight smile and pulled the rough woolen cap from his head. “My name is Patrick,” he said with his best Scots burr, “and I’m a sailor from the north.”

“Had I chanced to pass you on the street, I should never have guessed it was you!”

“That was the case when I wore this to the Pem
berton masquerade a few years back,” Sebastian said. “Our houseguest isn’t the only one who’s a master of disguise.”

“Ah, and is she the reason—” He broke off. The very next instant, his elegant nose twitched. He re
treated a step, his mouth curling in distaste. “Christ,” he said faintly. Suddenly his jaw came to
gether with a snap. “You smell like ale. And smoke. Don’t tell me you went to St. Giles!”

Already on his way into the study, Sebastian ig
nored his accusatory tone. “Very well then. I won’t.”

Justin was right on his heels. “Damn it,” he said tightly, “I told you I sent Avery to check on Devon’s story. Didn’t you believe me?”

One of Sebastian’s hands was on the brandy de
canter, the other on the glass beside it. “It wasn’t that,” he said curtly.

“What then? Was she the one you doubted? Avery? Or me? Or all of us?”

“It wasn’t that,” Sebastian said heavily. He walked behind his desk and sat. It was a moment before he spoke. “I had to see for myself,” he said quietly. “I
had
to.” The air was still and silent as he raised the glass to his lips.

Justin took the chair across from him.

Leaning back, he ran a hand through tousled black strands.

“My God,” he said in an odd, strained voice. “I feel like I’ve been to hell and back.”

Once he began, it was almost as if he couldn’t stop. “I had Jimmy let me off on the outskirts of St. Giles. I’d no more than rounded the corner and I saw a man with no arms. A woman with no legs huddled in the doorway next to the Crow’s Nest.”

“It’s a trick. A ruse. I hope you didn’t give them any money.”

“Hardly,” he said with the haughty air that would have cowed anyone but his brother. “I gave it to the three little urchins with no shoes.”

Justin nodded. “Good thinking.”

“When I left the Crow’s Nest, I walked to Devon’s lodgings.”

“You what!”

“You heard me. I walked.”

Justin leaned forward on an elbow. “Good God, man! Were you approached?”

Sebastian gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, yes! A beggar. I gave him a few coins. He thanked me, then pro
ceeded to try and raid my pockets.” The veriest pause, and Sebastian smiled ever so slightly. “He didn’t succeed. The next ones”—there was an almost imperceptible widening of his smile—“well, they were a trifle more persistent and would have
very
much liked to continue where the first man left off.”

“
They
?”

“Yes. There were two.”

“My God,” came Justin’s mutter, “I do hope you called for help.”

Blithely Sebastian raised a hand and curled his fingers toward his palm, pretending to inspect his nails.

“There was no need,” he said lightly.

“Balderdash! There was every need!”

Sebastian blew delicately across his knuckles— and met his brother’s gaze. “No,” he countered mildly, “there was not.”

Justin stared.

Sebastian smiled.

“What, you never heard about my days as a prize boxer during my years at Oxford? No, I suppose not, having gone to Cambridge. Ah, but I filled many a purse many a night, dear brother. And I still have the touch, it would seem, for I’ve come away with nary a scratch.”

Justin reached for the decanter. “Well, well, we all have our secrets, don’t we? Yet I can’t believe you went to St. Giles alone again, and you dare to call me reckless! My God, I need a drink.” He tossed the brandy down in two gulps. He was reaching for an
other when he caught sight of Sebastian’s expression.

Slowly he lowered the glass. “There’s more?”

“Yes.”

“I’m all ears,” Justin muttered.

Sebastian rubbed his fingers. “I met Phillips,” he said.

“Devon’s landlord?”

“Yes. It’s my opinion he belongs to a species no higher than a worm.”

“So I understand.”

“He wasn’t particularly happy when this drunken Scots sailor knocked on the wrong door and woke him from a sound sleep.”

Justin had finally recovered his usual aplomb. “He actually
believed
you had the wrong house?”

“He did.”

“But he changed his tune and was quite accommo
dating when I chanced to mention I had nowhere to stay for the night. As a matter of fact, he informed me, he had lodgings available.”

“So you saw where Devon lived?”

“I did. Shall I tell you about it? The pitch of the roof was so steeply angled I couldn’t stand up
right. There was but one window. The only furni
ture was a pallet in the corner. There wasn’t even a stool. There was barely enough room to turn around.”

Sebastian began to steam all over again. “He called Devon a cheeky little bitch who had run out on him without paying her rent. I wanted to blacken his eyes then and there. Alas, I had my chance. When I informed him I expected more in lodgings than a hovel, he took exception.” He flexed his fingers. “Consequently, I took exception to
him
.”

His jaw clenched hard. “My God, Justin, you should have seen it. I have never seen a place so vile. And Devon lived there. She
lived
there.” He stared
into the shadows. “She’s not going back there.
Ever
. I won’t allow it.”

Justin gave Sebastian a long, slow look. “That’s quite a statement coming from the man who didn’t want her here in the first place.” He raised a brow, for Sebastian’s expression remained utterly hard. “Why do you look like that? You’ve bloodied the faces of three men tonight—”

“Four. You forgot Phillips.”

“In any case, I don’t care to be the next.” He paused. “What are your plans for her?”

An arch look.

“I see. No plans yet. Knowing what a stickler you are, I know how that must grate.”

“Leave off, Justin.”

“Oh, come now. This entire night is very unlike you, Sebastian. I could almost believe that sailor Patrick has done away with my brother.” He shook his head in mock reproof. “Drinking. Brawling in the streets,” he drawled. “Were Father still alive, I doubt he would have approved.”