Home > Winter's Woman(6)

Winter's Woman(6)
Author: Scarlett Scott

Wrong person to mention.

“Devereaux, is it?” he growled, nettled to hear Dom speak of their legitimate half brother as if they were now on friendly terms.

To say nothing of the grandiosity of such a gesture. Townhomes, Dom had said, as if there were more than one.

How many townhomes did one arsehole need?

Dom raked a hand through his hair, his jaw hardening with annoyance. “I am persuaded our half brother is not who I once thought him to be. He has proven himself. Need I remind you of the manner in which he aided us with the Suttons and their waterworks?”

Yes, Devereaux Winter had indeed facilitated the deal with the Suttons. The Sutton Waterworks belonged to the Winters now. But Devil did not trust any man as far as he could throw him. And Deveraux Winter was a massive man. Devil did not suppose he could throw him farther than a puddle’s length.

Devil snorted. “And who is taking shots at Lady Evangeline? You do not suppose it is Suttons?”

“I cannot be sure.” Dom shook his head. “I cannot believe they would be foolish enough to upset the balance so soon after calling a truce. I need time to dig into this without worrying over Lady Evie’s wellbeing. Be reasonable, Devil.”

He did not feel like being reasonable. Reasonable was for nibs who worried about the knot in their cravats and the shine on their boots.

Devil shook his head. “A fortnight is impossible.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Lady Evangeline said. “It is impossible. You cannot expect me to hide myself somewhere with…Mr. Devil. Lord Denton shall never forgive me if I am to disappear. I am promised to attend the Farthington ball tomorrow, and the Desmond musicale the day after. My absence will be noted.”

“Your absence is necessary for your protection,” Lady Adele said.

She had a point, and Devil hated to admit it. Indeed, he would admit it if anyone other than himself was being cozened into playing her guard for the next fortnight. Bad enough to remain in milady’s presence when he had Dom to speak to. Unless…

“The two of you would accompany us,” Devil said.

“No.” Dom passed a hand over his jaw. “I need to remain here, to run The Devil’s Spawn, and to determine who is behind these attacks and why.”

“Why not me?” Devil suggested. “I remain. You and Lady Adele take Lady Evangeline to the countryside or to Winter’s townhome. I will stay and watch over The Devil’s Spawn and find the bastard responsible for shooting Lady Evangeline.”

Sound plan, as far as Devil was concerned. No more milady. No more golden curls and taunting berry lips. No more unwanted cockstands in her presence.

Dom sighed. “It cannot be me. You know as well as I do what happened the last time I distanced myself from London. There were fires set at our hell, men attempting to ruin us.”

On Devil’s watch.

His brother did not need to say it. Devil had inwardly lashed himself a thousand times for his failure to lead the ship in Dom’s absence. The Devil’s Spawn had not been reduced to ashes. But the damage had been bad enough.

Guilt and disappointment at his own failures sliced through him. Dom was right to distrust him. Not only had Devil been unable to keep the hell safe; Lady Evie had been shot on his second day acting as guard.

Fuck.

He owed his brother. And he owed it to himself to do better this time. To prove his mettle. Even if it meant keeping milady company for two weeks in Devereaux Winter’s house.

Damn.

Hell.

Devil nodded once, his gaze never straying from Dom’s. “Fair enough. I owe you. I’ll do what I must.”

Dom nodded. “Thank you, brother.”

He bowed and fled the fancy drawing room—dripping in gilt and polished mahogany—as Lady Evangeline sent up a fresh round of protests.

 

Evie wanted to kick something.

Or shout.

Pound her fist into a wall? No, that would hurt.

She wanted to snatch up something dear and hurl it to the floor, watching as it shattered into myriad pieces. Irreparable.

Just as her reputation would be by the time this farce had come to an end. They may as well find the villain who had been attempting to murder her and have him shoot her now.

“Sixteen.”

The mocking voice of Devil Winter reached her then. A rough, growling rumble. Why had he spoken? She was doing her utmost to pretend he was not standing in the corner of this unfamiliar library, watching her pace.

The library was large.

The book selection was excellent.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would have been well-pleased. But this was decidedly not ordinary circumstances. This was, instead, Bedlamite, ridiculous, untenable, unacceptable circumstances. And she was furious.

Ignoring the massive oaf in the room, she spun on her slipper-clad heel and stalked back down the Aubusson.

“Seventeen.”

His voice was amused. The low, intimate tone of it trilled down her spine. Made her belly tighten and her skin feel flushed. Was that his scent on the air? Spice and bay and leather?

Curse the man.

Mayhap if she ignored him, he would go away. His presence in this chamber was not just unwanted but bewilderingly improper. Her lady’s maid, who was to act as chaperone, was upstairs, seeing to the unpacking of Evie’s trunks. The lumbering brute who watched her now was supposed to be elsewhere.

Not plaguing her with his handsome presence.

Handsome? For shame, Evie. What would Lord Denton say?

She shook that unsettling question from her mind. Lord Denton had been sent a letter, carefully written by Evie herself before she had been surreptitiously swept from her sister and brother-in-law’s townhome. Five carriages had set off at once lest any unseen foes had been watching and anticipating their movement. And Evie had been inside the only one which had also contained him.

“Eighteen.”

His mocking voice reached her once more.

She halted in her pacing and turned toward him, irritation surpassing all else. “Shall I applaud you, Mr. Nothing? You can count. I am astounded a man of your background is capable of such a rudimentary skill.”

If her tone was biting, and if her words were horrid, it could hardly be helped. She was feeling unsettled, terrified, and cruel, all at once.

Devil Winter remained stoic, his expression never shifting from sardonic amusement. His face was, as ever, a source of astonishment. He was the sort of gentleman one looked upon with an involuntary inhalation of breath at the power of his rugged, masculine beauty.

However, upon closer inspection, she detected a subtle change in his bearing. A stiffening of his posture. Her words had hit their mark, though he was doing his utmost to feign indifference. The realization gave Evie no joy. Instead, shame swamped her. He said nothing, simply watched her, impassive.

This new silence somehow mocked her more than his counting had. She was furious with him for capitulating and agreeing to this madcap scheme of Adele and Mr. Winter’s. Being trapped inside a strange house with no one for company save servants and Devil Winter was akin to torture.

How was she to bear a fortnight of this?

“Well?” she demanded, aware that she was being cutting and rude to him and yet somehow unable to stop herself. “Have you anything to say now, Mr. Nothing?”

She had been shot. She had been torn from the life to which she was accustomed. She had been forced to lie to her future husband. She had been hidden away. How could anyone expect her to be anything other than bitter and upset and ill-mannered? She was sure they could not, Devil Winter included.

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