A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

“But knowing that my father seeks old letters changes things, do you not agree?”

Juliet’s hand came to rest on his chest, covering his heart. The organ thumped hard against her palm. Evidently, he found the questions troubling. Had he heard the unspoken words? Was he open to the possibility that his grandmother died by a villain’s cruel hand? Was he willing to accept that her father might be the one responsible?

“The word coincidence springs to mind, but Dariell would chastise me for my foolishness. He believes that one’s destiny is not decided by a series of random events. There is no such thing as luck or chance.”

Juliet wasn’t sure she believed that. Had luck not played a part in Devlin winning the wager? Was she not lucky that Hannah refused to sacrifice her life to settle their father’s debt?

“I should like to meet Mr Dariell. He sounds like an intriguing fellow.”

“He is.” After a moment’s contemplation, Devlin said, “And you will meet him. Shall we invite him to dinner? Valentine will come, too, and Greystone and Lydia.”

“Oh, I would love to meet your friends. And what of Lockhart?”

Devlin cleared his throat. “Lockhart is in hiding. No one must know he has returned home, for reasons I shall explain later.”

Heavens, no wonder Devlin had spent so long abroad. When surrounded by such fascinating gentlemen, one would never suffer from boredom.

“Juliet,” Devlin said in a tone that meant he was about to throw water over the fire of excitement burning in her chest. “My purpose for inviting them is not just so they may meet you, but I thought we could extend the invitation to family. I thought we could invite the baron and Miss Bromfield.”

In an instant, her happiness sizzled and hissed as the fire inside died. “But why? They would shame me in front of your friends. Oh, Devlin, the thought of having them here makes me want to cast up my accounts.”

“They will not dare insult you while I have breath in my body,” Devlin said, his tone brimming with conviction. He took her hand in his although the water had wrinkled his skin. “And my friends will not permit their disrespect. You will like Greystone’s wife. She is kind-hearted, and she loves him.”

Juliet sighed. She could not hide from the baron forever. And at some point, hers and Hannah’s paths were sure to cross.

“Then if I am to suffer the stress of dining with my family, at least tell me why it serves your purpose to have them here.”

“It won’t just be for dinner,” Devlin said, wincing as he spoke. “I hoped they might stay the night.”

“Stay the night? Oh, no, Devlin. I have spent six years sleeping under the same roof, don’t ask me to do so again.”

“Not even if it gives us an opportunity to trick your father into revealing more about the letters? We may learn something about what it is he truly wants. And as mistress of the house, your sister will have no option but to give you the respect you deserve.”

While the thought of putting Hannah in her place proved tempting, it was not in Juliet’s nature to boast or flaunt her good fortune. “I doubt they will come.”

“Your father paid a man to beat you, so you might provide the answers he seeks. Trust me. He will accept an invitation to spend the night in this house. The baron is desperate. Desperate men make mistakes.”

A deep sense of foreboding shook her to her core. “Then I shall make sure I sleep with one eye open.” And a blade hidden beneath her pillow.

“We won’t be sleeping at all. We’ll be spying on them, amongst other things.” Devlin brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a tender kiss on her palm. “I shall not leave you alone for a second.”

“Make sure you don’t.”

“Does that mean you agree?” He sounded hopeful.

Juliet nodded. “If you think it might help to solve the mystery of your grandmother’s letters and put these troubles behind us for good, then yes.”

He flashed a devilish grin. “You do know that I will do my utmost to embarrass your sister. It’s the least I can do for Ambrose.”

“She deserves nothing less.” In all likelihood, Hannah would refuse the invitation. But then she doubted the baron would enter the lion’s den alone. “Someone needs to knock her off that giant plinth. Hannah will never be happy if she continues to treat people with contempt.”

“Is there any soap?” Devlin asked, changing the subject.

“Just a minute.” Juliet hurried to the washstand and returned with the bar. She moved to hand it to Devlin, but he shook his head.

“You’ll need to wash me.” His seductive gaze swept over her. “I am too cold to see to the task myself.”

“Too cold? Then I had better do something to heat your blood.”