A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)
Excitement fluttered in her breast even though she knew seduction was not part of the night’s agenda. No. They were to wait for Dariell, wait for information on the baron’s movements during the night, wait for an opportunity to confront the devious lord and discover the reason for his duplicity.
“Is it just me, or did Mrs Barbary treat the baron with barely veiled disdain?” Juliet said as she settled into the fireside chair and cradled the glass of sherry a maid had brought to her room. “She was not as sharp with Lord Valentine, or Mr Dariell.”
Devlin dropped into the seat opposite ready to join her in their nighttime vigil. “She blames him for what happened to Ambrose. Thankfully, we all ate from the same platters. Else I fear she may have laced his dinner with arsenic.”
“Please tell me you’re joking. While I am as eager as you to discover the truth, I’ll not be an accessory to murder.”
“Of course I’m joking. Cook locked the arsenic in a cupboard and wears the key tucked into the valley of her bosom. No person alive would dare venture down there.”
Juliet smiled though nerves pushed to the fore when she considered what the night might bring. “Do you really believe my father will leave his chamber tonight? Do you expect to find him prowling the dark corridors?”
Devlin’s mouth thinned as he stared at the amber flames. A weary sigh left his lips. “When it comes to the baron nothing surprises me. But rest assured, we will soon know the answer.”
Chapter Sixteen
The faint creak of a door forced Devlin to open his eyes. While the fire still radiated a modicum of heat, the flames danced low in the grate. One glance at the stubby candle in the lamp told him the hour had long since passed the stroke of midnight.
Juliet slept in the chair opposite, a blanket draped around her shoulders.
The light pad of footsteps in the adjoining room told him to expect Dariell, but Devlin took a moment to study his wife.
A mysterious tug in his gut had prompted him to speak to her in the garden on the fateful day the baron arrived to pay his debt. The same overwhelming sense of rightness encouraged him to offer marriage. But it was her strength of character that had stolen his heart. Juliet was beautiful inside and out, and he was a better man for having met her.
Love flowed through his veins.
Love inflamed every fibre of his being.
Love held him captive.
“It is as you suspected.” Dariell’s soft French burr reached Devlin’s ears. His friend appeared from the shadows, noted the angel sleeping in the chair and kept his voice low. “The baron, he has spent fifteen minutes in your brother’s bedchamber.”
“Did he see you?”
Dariell’s mouth curled up in amusement. “Of course not.”
“And what of Miss Bromfield?” Devlin asked, wondering if his instincts were right.
The lady had spent the evening vying for Valentine’s attention, stroking her fingers seductively over her collarbone, moistening her lips, touching his arm repeatedly during dinner. The lord’s lack of interest only fuelled her need to whet his appetite.
“Miss Bromfield, she left her room wearing nothing but her nightgown, crept to Lord Valentine’s room and tried to gain entrance.”
Devlin snorted. “Please tell me he locked the door.”
“Oui. Of course. Valentine is no fool.” Dariell shrugged. “His destiny, it lies elsewhere.”
Intrigued by the comment, Devlin straightened. “And the widow, Lady Durrant, does she have a role to play in Valentine’s destiny?” Hell, he hoped not. But Valentine had made a vow to marry and seemed set on the widow.
“Perhaps.” Dariell’s eyes gleamed with excitement, and he chuckled almost to himself. “Valentine, he has such a surprise in store.” His amusement waned. “But I am here to assist you with your destiny, my friend, and I must tell you that the baron has just descended the grand staircase and is on the hunt.”
“The conniving bastard,” Devlin whispered. “The man has the devil’s impudence.”
“Will you confront him alone?” Dariell glanced at the beauty sleeping in the chair.
The last thing Devlin wanted was to cause Juliet more pain. But he had told her they would tackle the baron together, and he would not go back on his word.
“My wife deserves to know the truth, despite any reservations I might have.”
A satisfied sigh left Dariell’s lips. “You have travelled a long way to find your life’s purpose, no?”