A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

The tension in the air was palpable.

“And that is all you seek?” the baron said, his beady eyes narrowed.

Juliet tapped Devlin’s leg and turned to whisper in his ear.

“My wife has a few stipulations of her own.”

Juliet inclined her head to him and then turned to face the Bromfields. “We find ourselves in the unfortunate position of being without a housekeeper. I would like to employ Mrs Wendell if she is happy to move to Blackwater.”

“Mrs Wendell?” The baron’s cheeks ballooned. “But she has worked in this house for years.”

“Then perhaps she needs a change of scenery. I would also like to take Nora as my lady’s maid.” Juliet gave a satisfied sigh.

A sob choked in the back of Miss Bromfield’s throat. “Take the furniture. Take the silver. I don’t care what you take just as long as you keep our secret.”

The baron’s shoulders sagged in resignation. “Take them. Take the whole damn house if you must.”

“Then I shall go and break the good news. Mr Drake can finish with the proceedings here.” Juliet rose from her seat with the grace of a duchess. She left the room without a backwards glance.

“So what do you really want, Drake?” the baron said in a tone reeking of suspicion.

“Only that which we have already stipulated. You have a month to correct public opinion regarding my brother.” Devlin wondered if they knew what that meant. It meant Miss Bromfield would look foolish, would appear inferior to those gentlemen looking to make a decent match. Miss Bromfield’s foolish tongue would cost her dearly.

“And how can I trust you to keep your end of the bargain?” the baron said.

“You can’t. And you will never find the letters.” Devlin had returned them to their hiding place beneath the velvet kneeler. All but one which he retrieved from his pocket and handed to the baron. “This is an example of what I have hidden away. Keep it. Should any further attempts be made to recover the letters, I shall have no option but to reveal all I know.”

Miss Bromfield whimpered. “We will do everything you ask, Mr Drake. Rest assured. The last thing I want is for people to discover I am related to the hired help.”

“Excellent. I am glad we understand one another.”

A host of other questions bombarded Devlin’s mind. He would have answers for those, too, before he left the baron to deal with the volatile lady at his side.

“Might I ask if you’ve heard from Mr Biggs? He was alive when we parted company though I have not seen him of late.”

The baron scoffed. “Then you’re the reason the rogue robbed Mr Middle’s office and caught the mail coach north.”

“Someone had to make the fellow see sense.” Now to return to the matter of his brother. “Did Ambrose tell you how he came by the letters? The ones written by the maid we now know to be your mother.”

An agonising groan left Miss Bromfield’s lips.

“Your grandmother gave them to Ambrose when she persuaded him to break his oath to my daughter.”

Miss Bromfield’s sudden gasp revealed her surprise. “What! So it’s a

ll your fault.” Tears trickled down her face. “Ambrose would have married me were you not your father’s by-blow.”

“Shut up, Hannah, before the servants hear.”

It occurred to Devlin that the baron’s motives for the duel stemmed from more than just the disrespect shown to his daughter. Would the baron have fired if given a chance? Would the baron have murdered Ambrose to keep his secret safe?

Either way, it didn’t matter now.

Ambrose was dead, and Devlin had his own reasons for not revealing the truth.

“I shall return for Mrs Wendell and Nora first thing in the morning.” Devlin stood and strode to the door. As his fingers settled around the handle, he stopped and turned to face the sorry pair. “One more thing before I go.”

“What now?” The baron huffed. “I knew there would be something.”