Weak from the loss of blood, Adele settled into the carriage sleepily. Lena tucked the lap rug over her and checked her makeshift bandage, then turned to murmur to one of the waiting footmen. “Will you fetch Mrs. Hamilton?”
There was one last matter to attend to. Stepping up onto the carriage’s step, she turned to face Will reluctantly. “Thank you. For helping me with Adele.”
He stood with his back to the gaslight, his face cast in shadows. A thin gleam of amber indicated his mood. “You and I need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She turned, intending to settle inside the carriage, but he caught a fistful of her skirts.
“I ain’t goin’ away, Lena.”
A glimpse over her shoulder revealed the aggressive truth of that on his face.
“Why won’t you let it be? It’s none of your business.” It wasn’t even as though he cared. He was only doing this for Blade’s sake.
Turning around on the step brought her face to face with him. Though she’d always felt at a disadvantage with her lack of height, it was suddenly far too intimate. The heat of his large body protected her from the cool evening breeze, and her skirts pressed against his thighs. She searched his gaze for something, anything, to tell her that she was wrong. That he was here for her.
“Why?”
His gaze flickered away, thoughtful. “Found the same code on a man as stabbed Blade inna heart. Something’s stirrin’, Lena. I’m not about to let him—or the rookery—get caught up in it.” His smoldering gaze caught hers. “And I think you know more’n you’re sayin’.”
Her lips thinned. Of course. Blade. And the rookery. “Do you really think I would be involved in anything that might hurt Blade—and through him, my sister and brother?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly.
In that moment she hated him. No matter her many flaws, she would never risk Honoria or Charlie’s life. Reaching for the carriage door, she shot him one last glare. “Go home, Will. You don’t belong here, nor are you wanted. Just go home and patrol your little part of London. I won’t visit and I won’t expect to see you in the city.”
She gave his hand an icy look and he slowly released her, tension riding through his shoulders.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I know you love your brother and sister.”
“One of the few things you seem to know about me.” Sweeping her skirts inside the carriage, she went to shut the door.
Will caught it, leaning closer. The sleeves of his shirt strained over his arms. “Lena, damn it—”
“I say… Is this chap bothering you?”
With Will so close, she hadn’t realized anyone else was there. Neither had he, by the shock that shuddered through him.
Giving him one last spearing look, she glanced over his shoulder at the slightly inebriated young lord and smiled. Saved by a blue blood. How ironic. “He was just leaving. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” The young buck shot her a wink and a salute. She’d seen him before, though his name momentarily escaped her.
Will lowered his hand from the door. “I’ll leave you be. This time.”
Lena shut the door and smiled through the glass at him. With a growl, he turned and shot the young lord a look that made his face pale. Then, hands in his pockets, he stalked into the shadows, fog swirling around his ankles.
“So,” Adele murmured, resting her head against the carriage seat. She was still snuggled in the black coat. “Tell me about this Will.”
“Hmm?” Lena looked up from where she’d been smoothing her skirts. “What about him?”
Adele’s eyes narrowed. A hint of her old spark was starting to warm her cheeks. “He looks like he wants to eat you up, Lena. And not in a scary manner.”
“Will? He does nothing of the sort! He’s made it quite—” And then she stopped, aware of what she was about to reveal.
“Quite…?” Adele prompted. When Lena said nothing, a weary smile stretched over her face. “You do realize I’m not going to leave it there, my dear.”
Staring out the window, Lena watched the lights glittering in the windows of Lord Harker’s mansion. It wouldn’t be long before the footman would bring Adele’s mother. Then she would be safe from prying questions.
Yet…a sudden urge welled up. The need to confide in someone, even Adele. She’d been holding so much inside her for months that she felt almost fit to bursting.
“I kissed him,” she blurted. “I don’t know why. It was always just a game I played with him. A flirtation. I never meant anything by it.” Hadn’t she? Lena frowned. She couldn’t, in truth, answer that question. “It was awful. He didn’t even kiss me back. And when I stopped…” Her cheeks were burning now. “He told me that he would tolerate my childish little games for Blade’s sake, but that he would prefer it if I didn’t throw myself at him. Especially since we were living beneath one roof.” The very memory of it turned her stomach. He’d been so angry with her he was shaking. Then he’d turned and walked away without another word.
Somehow she managed a lighthearted shrug for Adele’s sake. “The next day he moved out of the warren. And I decided it was time to return to society. There was nothing left for me in Whitechapel.”
“He never kissed you back?”
“Not even slightly.”
Adele’s eyebrows drew together. “How unusual. For I would have suspected quite the opposite, my dear. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. And when Cavendish tried to grab you, I thought he was going to kill him.”
“His loyalty is to Blade. If he allowed me to come to any harm he’d have to explain it to him. And Honoria.”
“Hmm.” Adele settled back on the seat, snuggling in wearily. “I’ll stake a hundred pounds that you’re wrong.”
“And how do we prove that?” she asked tartly. “I’m not about to ask him.”
Adele’s eyes closed. A little smile played around her lips. “Because next time, I’m certain that he’ll kiss you.”
The door to Lord Harker’s private study slammed open.
Colchester looked up over the rim of his glass. His gaze raked Cavendish, from the rumpled collar of his coat to the seething fury in his eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a large bruise forming against the other man’s throat.
“What the devil happened? Surely she didn’t put up that much of a fight?”
Cavendish shot him a filthy look and crossed to the liquor decanter. “You forgot to mention she had protection.” He splashed a liberal dash of blud-wein into a glass and drained it.
“Protection?” Colchester asked silkily. His eyes lifted again to that bruise. “What manner of protection?”
Cavendish lowered the glass and muttered, “Nothing.”
Colchester eased to his feet, tossing aside the newspaper he’d been reading. Below, the ball was still in full swing by the sound of it, yet he had little intention of joining the swirling throng. No, he had other plans.
Plans that Cavendish just might have ruined.
“I thought you were a blue blood, Cavendish. Not a puling human. I asked you to ruin the girl and you couldn’t even handle that.” He sneered, circling the other man. “Did she beat you with her reticule? Or was there more than one of them? A whole flock of debutantes to frighten you—”
An angry gleam turned Cavendish’s eyes to shadows. “I’d like to see you take on the Beast. Seems your little bitch has gone and got herself a filthy verwulfen to watch her back.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Cavendish sneered. “Probably plundering the girl right now, as we speak. Seems you’re not going to get your hands on that one after all.”
Colchester had him by the throat before he realized it. “Whitechapel’s Beast?”
Cavendish struggled to nod.
Shock sliced through him. The little bitch. Thought she could find a protector, did she? As Cavendish made a strangled sound, Colchester dropped him and stepped away, raking the glasses off the tray. Glass smashed across the floor, littering the carpets. Lena was his. But if she’d polluted herself with one of those filthy creatures then she was no longer fit to be his thrall. By God he’d make her regret this act.
Cavendish slumped against the table, watching him warily. “What are you going to do?” he asked, and Colchester realized he’d spoken out loud.
Bad enough that the rest of the Council sought to ally themselves with these creatures. Now one of them moved to steal his thrall right out from underneath his nose. That, if nothing else, made him want her even more.
He smiled. Darkly. “Let me deal with it. I’ll make her regret it.” Flicking glass off his sleeve, he turned toward the door. “I’ll make them both regret it.”
Seven
“Come in.”
Will shot a look down the hall, his booted heels muffled on the Turkish runner. He could sense Lena in the house somewhere, but not nearby. Which suited him perfectly for the moment.
Slipping inside the study, he closed the door behind him. Morning light spilled through the windows. An ungodly hour of the morning, in fact. He’d barely slept, his mind replaying every scene from the night before. As soon as he grew close to the edge of sleep, the memory of Lena’s fear scent would sweep through him and his eyes would jerk open again. He needed to know more. Especially about the one name that frightened her.
Barrons looked up from his desk, his dark eyes widening slightly. “Will.” He leaned back in his chair, his progress marked by the shifting of well-oiled leather. Dressed in a black velvet coat, the only sign of color was the spill of white lace at his wrists and throat. A little ruby pin winked against the lace. “You do realize the price on your head isn’t lifted until you sign the prince consort’s document?” He lifted a sheaf of papers, frowning. “Which is right here, I believe.”
Will crossed his arms over his chest. “What d’you know about a man named Colchester?”
“Colchester?” Barrons’s hands stilled on the paper. “He used to be a friend, until I orchestrated the duel between his cousin Vickers and Blade. Why do you ask?”
“Why would Lena be afraid of him?”
Barrons straightened, a dangerous look coming into his obsidian eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Had business with her last night. When I found her she were terrified. O’ him.”
Barrons leaned back in his chair. “Tell me.”
Will relayed the story, omitting any mention of the code or the letter. “Don’t know ’im. Ain’t never heard much about him.” He scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Is he dangerous?”
“All blue bloods are dangerous.”
Will met his stare. “Can he get to her?”
For once, Barrons’s cool composure vanished. Uncertainty shadowed his brow. “I don’t know. She has a companion and she only ever attends events with a chaperone or myself. But there are ways to get around that for a man like Colchester.”
“What does he want with her?”
“I can only presume,” Barrons replied. “Vengeance against me. Or perhaps some interest in Lena herself. Rumor has it he’s hunting for another thrall.”
“You wouldn’t let that happen?”
Barrons leveled an intense look upon him. “What’s your interest in the matter?”
“Blade protects his own,” he replied promptly. “And I protect him. He wouldn’t survive goin’ up against another duke. I want this stopped before it gets to that.”
“I see.” Barrons gestured toward the chair facing him. “How do you propose to stop it?”
Will sank into the chair. “Thought of a way to protect Lena and help with the prince consort’s task. Killin’ two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
Barrons gestured for him to continue.
“This ruse of the prince consort’s—me, dressed up like a court jester and bobbin’ to his tune—it ain’t gonna work. I don’t know nothin’ of court ways.”
“And?”
“Who better to teach me than Lena? Keep me from makin’ too big a fool of meself, or steppin’ on the wrong toes.”
“Unless they happen to be Colchester’s…upon whom you wish to step quite firmly, if I may guess where this is going?” Barrons leaned forward. “He’s a dangerous man, Will.”
“So am I.”
Barrons examined him for a long moment. Then nodded. “A verwulfen bodyguard. It would certainly give most sane men pause. Done. I’ll inform her that she’s to help present you to the court and squire you about.”