Darian Hunter: Duke of Desire (Dangerous Dukes 3)

‘Where?’

Clara frowned her irritation. ‘Really, Wolfingham, you are being less than polite.’

‘Where did you last see him, madam?’ he demanded tautly.

She blinked pale lashes. ‘He was talking to one of the musicians as they prepared their instruments before they commenced playing. Why, Mariah, what on earth is wrong with Wolfingham this evening?’ She looked totally bewildered as the duke turned sharply on his highly polished heels to disappear into the melee of the crowded ballroom, without so much as a word of apology or explanation.

Mariah knew exactly what was wrong with Darian, and the reason for his having left so abruptly, and her heart began to beat a wild tattoo in her chest at the realisation that Darian had every intention of confronting Lord Edgewood. ‘I will explain later.’ She threw the words distractedly at Clara before herself hurrying off in Darian’s wake.

Very aware that the assassin’s plans for this weekend had been thwarted on two levels. First, by the arrival of the Prince Regent’s note of apology. And second, by Benson’s hurried departure.

Whether or not Lord Edgewood knew of the disappearance of his co-conspirator, Mariah certainly knew that a cornered animal was more likely to come out fighting, rather than cowering in the corner. And William Edgewood, once he became aware of Benson’s defection, was obviously intelligent enough to realise he no longer had anything else to lose.

A single glance at the grimness of Darian’s expression, before he left to go in search of the older man, had told her that the dangerous Duke of Wolfingham fully intended to confront the older man as being the traitor he so obviously was.

As Mariah was also aware that Darian had barely survived André Rousseau’s bullet just weeks ago.

*

‘A little caution, if you please, Wolfingham!’

Darian came to an abrupt halt to turn sharply in the middle of the ballroom, having easily recognised the softly spoken warning as coming from one of his closest friends, Christian Seaton, the Duke of Sutherland. And obviously also one of those uninvited guests Clara Nichols had referred to just minutes ago!

‘These masks hide a multitude of sins.’ Sutherland confirmed drily, dressed similarly to Darian, in dark clothing and a black mask, his eyes glinting violet through the eye-slits. ‘Your groom arrived at Winterton Manor with your note and we arrived here just in time to stop and question the Nicholses’ butler as he was attempting to leave,’ he supplied economically. ‘Rotherham and Maystone are here somewhere, too.’

‘You know of Edgewood’s involvement?’

‘Oh, yes. Benson squeaked like a stuck pig once he knew the game was up. No doubt hoping to shift some of the blame!’ The other man gave a grim smile. ‘Griff and Maystone are watching him even as we speak.’

Darian nodded abruptly. ‘Do we have a plan of extraction?’

‘Maystone suggests— Good heavens, what is she doing?’ Sutherland growled with a sudden start of surprise.

Darian tensed, very much afraid he knew exactly which ‘she’ his friend was referring to. ‘Where?’

‘The little fool!’ Sutherland had now turned fully in order to look across the heads of the other guests in the direction of the musicians. ‘Can you not keep your woman under control, Darian?’ he demanded disgustedly as the two of them began to push their way towards where Mariah now stood in conversation with Lord William Edgewood.

‘She is not my woman—’ Darian broke off with a start as he realised that, yes, that was exactly what Mariah now was.

His woman.

The woman he wished to protect, with his own life if necessary.

The woman he admired and respected more than any other.

The woman he now realised meant more to him than any other woman ever had. Or ever would?

And at this moment his woman was deliberately endangering herself by engaging in conversation with the very man they both knew to have been one of the conspirators in the intended assassination of their beloved Regent.

His mouth thinned as he prompted again, ‘Do we have a plan, Christian?’

‘We did, yes,’ the other man confirmed just as grimly. ‘That may be a little more difficult now that— Where is she going now?’ Sutherland demanded incredulously, both men coming to a halt and watching helplessly as Mariah, her hand companionably in the crook of Lord Edgewood’s arm, now crossed to the French doors and strolled outside on to the terrace with him.

‘Damn it to hell!’ Darian had never felt so helpless in his life before as he did at that moment. Or so much like putting Mariah across his knee and administering a sound thrashing, for having endangered herself so deliberately. A thrashing, because of his earlier promise to himself never to cause Mariah any physical harm, that would have to take a verbal form. A verbal tongue-lashing he fully intended to carry out the moment the two of them were alone together again.

If they were ever alone together again.

*