In the Devil's Bed (Sins of the Duke Book 1) (28 page)

Jack gritted his teeth against the need to protect the only happiness he had ever known. How could he explain why he’d done the things he’d done? “I didn’t initially wish to marry you— I— You see, there were—
are
other things, deeper things, and my marrying you would have—“

How in the hell could he tell her about the vow he’d made that day at Badajoz? That he was still haunted by his friend and the life that had been ripped from him?

And how could he so fully enjoy his life when Dev had never even had a chance at freedom? And there it was. Somehow, loving Regan felt like a betrayal of Devlin. “In part, I married you because I knew how much your grandfather would hate it.”

“I see,” she said, her voice small.

Jack looked away. For so long he had forced himself to live in the pain and never let it go. If he could now, he would cut it out like a cancer.

He forced himself to look back at her and see the pain he was causing her. “But I also married you because I wanted to keep you safe. To be with you every moment of the day.”

Regan’s lips tightened in an uncertain smile. Her face shone pale in the early afternoon light. “And now?”

Unable to help himself, Jack caressed her cheek with his fingers and cupped her face with his palm. “I love you. I love you in a way I never thought could be possible. You are my heart.”

His throat tightened and a vision of Regan lying on the floor of the hospital wing, prone and lifeless, flashed before his eyes. “I have never felt more fear in my life when I thought you might be taken from me.”

“Jack, I love you. I will not deny it.” She opened her eyes. “But I am afraid that you will never see me as anything but a Chance. I understand why you didn’t wish to marry me—“

“Shh. No. I don’t
care
that you’re one of them or that you’re his granddaughter. Not anymore. And that was not the reason I hesitated in marrying you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I made a promise to someone. I promised that I would do whatever it took to destroy your grandfather.” Jack ran his fingers along Regan’s jaw. “I thought my feelings for you, my marrying you, was a betrayal of his memory. And how could I betray him after we had been through so much together? At the cost of his own, he saved my life, Regan.”

Regan’s mouth opened and she gently pulled away.

“You see our love as a betrayal?” she asked softly.

The image of Devlin, gasping for life as his blood poured from his chest, flashed in his head. Jack swallowed, fighting the tension in his throat. “He died at Badajoz. I caught him before he fell to the ground.” Jack drew in a shaking breath. “There are times I can still hear myself screaming at him not to do it.” A wry smile pulled his lips. “He never did listen.”

Regan stared up into his face. There was a sad understanding in her eyes. “You loved him very much?”

“He was my only friend, the only person I could trust.”

Sighing, Regan brushed her gentle fingertips over his forehead. “And you promised revenge?”

“My promise is all that has driven me for the last five years. The only thing that’s kept me from slipping into hell.”

Regan nodded. “I see.”

After a moment of silence, Regan leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “The one thing I want is to truly know you. But I’m afraid you won’t let me.”

Like a sledgehammer hitting against granite, Jack’s heart slammed in his chest. She was not telling him to go to the devil. “I will do whatever it takes to help you know me, even if that means being nothing but your guard.”

“Then tell me,” she said softly, “his name.”

“What?”

“Your friend’s name. I want to know the man who saved your life. Tell me about him.”

And for the first time that he could ever recall, Jack opened his heart and began to speak of Devlin.

Chapter 31

“Do you have the papers?” Adam asked.

Jack tightened his grip on the letters from Regan’s father as he led Adam into his study. Everything had happened so fast, he still hadn’t figured out how the hell he was going to tell Regan about her grandfather’s worst deeds. But soon, he would have to. He shut the oak door behind them.

“Yes,” Jack said. “And more.”

Adam crossed the room to the carved liquor cabinet by the fire and grabbed the scotch decanter. He yanked out the crystal stopper and poured in three fingers. For a moment, he stared at the burnished liquid. A faint smile, void of humor, played at his lips, then he lifted the glass and tossed back half its contents. Turning to Jack, he said, “For a man who just brushed death’s door, you seem remarkably out of spirits.”

The urge to get drunker than a Tiger Bay gin sot was damned tempting, but not when he needed his wits. Not after what he’d found. “I have run into much deeper. . . difficulties.”

“The bloom is wearing off the rose?”

“Pardon?”

“Marriage. I knew you married her for—less than honorable motives.” Adam turned the glass in his palm letting the liquid catch the light. “Has the clever girl already discerned that?”

Jack fought back a growl. He’d put himself in a dangerous corner. At any moment, all that he cared about could be destroyed. Regan’s life and her love hung on a very narrow thread. And Adam controlled most of that thread. “Yes.”

Adam drank the last of his scotch in a gulp. “You know, I rarely intervene in people’s lives.” His green eyes dulled. “They just don’t seem to be worth the effort. However, I must admit, you’re an exception. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. And to help Regan. God knows she deserves happiness.”

Jack strode over to the fireplace and grabbed the satchel he collected from Chiles’ house yesterday morning. “And because of it, I’ll be forever in your debt, damn you.”

The dull afternoon light spilling through the curtains shadowed Adam’s face. He gave a curt nod. “Damn right.” He stared down into the empty glass, cradling it in his hand. “Now, what else have you found?”

Jack swung the satchel to Adam who caught it with his free hand. Then he pulled the letters out. “The papers we expected are in the bag.” He fingered the letters. “These, on the other hand. . .”

Placing the glass down, Adam took the folded correspondence. He opened the top letter and his eyes widened. Wordlessly, he tucked the letters into the bag. “They will find their way to the Prime Minister before he has time to sit down to his brandy. But you do realize that something of this magnitude will be kept very quiet,
if
the duke is hauled off.”

Jack nodded. He knew it all too well. And it worried him. ”Adam, that letter must make a difference. He murdered his son.”

Adam’s brows rose and he slowly tilted his head to the right. He let out a sigh that seemed to drain the life from his features leaving bitter lines about his mouth and eyes. “Try to prove it. The duke has friends in high enough places that will keep him from ever being held accountable for such a charge.”

Jack ground his teeth down staring back at Ashecroft. Could the powerful never be destroyed? Still, he nodded.

Adam lifted his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. “Till next time.” He strode to the door, then paused without looking back. “If this letter holds any truth, I would guess Chiles will want Regan dead. The fire may be evidence of that. Lumley certainly is and, if he wants her dead, no one will be able to stop him.” Adam glanced over his shoulder, his green eyes hard. “Not even you.”

Jack nodded and forced a tight smile to his lips. “I know.”

“God speed, my friend.” Adam slipped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Jack turned to his desk and slammed his fists into the hard wood. Parliament had all the information they needed to call Chiles’ actions into question. But it would not be enough to utterly destroy the powerful duke.

“Damn!” Jack growled. All his work, everything he’d done, was for naught. At worst, Chiles would be chastised and slapped on the wrist. And Regan. Regan would never be safe.

Jack ran a hand through his hair. God, he’d been so arrogant to think he could destroy Chiles. Jack held his breath for a moment. He could kill the old man. It would be simple. Hell, he could make it look like an accident and then Regan would be safe.

It was tempting.

Shaking his head, Jack let the breath out on a slow hiss.

Regan had shown him that revenge was not the answer. And he refused to start his new life with blood on his hands.

If the king and Parliament couldn’t see their way to pulling the bastard down, he and Regan would be on a ship to Paris and then as far from the reach of Chiles as they could roam.

Chapter 32

“We may have to consider moving.”

Regan tried to look up from the hospital damage report. The dratted thing seemed never to end. They were going to have to tear what was left down and begin entirely again. “Move?” she said absently as she turned the page.

“Regan.” Jack’s voice cut through the room, deep and gravelly.

The hard edge in it forced her eyes up and she stilled. His entire body was tense. She took in a slow breath and put the thick parchment down. “Where did you have in mind? They’re building more new homes at Prinny’s Park.”

Jack stared back at her without a word, his dark eyes hard.

“Not the Park then,” she said softly. “Jack, what aren’t you telling me?” Her fingers curled into fists. Lord, it was never going to end. She’d thought he’d told her everything.

Jack stepped forward, his eyes never leaving her face. “I know who’s been attacking you.”

The sick feeling swirling in her stomach eased. “Well, that’s wonderful.” When he didn’t smile back, she folded her arms across her stomach. “It’s not wonderful?”

Jack crossed the short distance between them and crouched down in front of her. Even with his knees bent, he could still look her in the eyes. Sympathy darkened his gaze and he placed a hand on top of hers.

Her breath came in short pulls as panic began to prickle just under her skin. “Out with it.”

“Your grandfather.”

Regan stared at him. She blinked then laughed. She waited a moment for Jack to laugh, too. But he didn’t. The laughter died on her own lips and her chest suddenly felt hollow. “Jack, you’re taking this revenge business too far. He’s a bad man, but he’s my grandfather. My father’s father.”

“Yes, and Regan. . .” Jack hesitated, his face shuttering.

The ground seemed to open up around them and Regan was afraid, but she forced herself to ask. “What?”

“Your father was murdered.”

“In an alley,” she whispered.

“The murderer was never found.”

She shook her head. “A cutthroat-“

“No.”

“No?” she echoed. Slowly, she pulled her fingers from his. “You know who killed him?”

“Your grandfather,” Jack said softly.

She pushed back from him, stumbling on her skirt.

“This is ridiculous. Too much. You’re—You’re—“ the words spilled from her mouth, anger racing through her veins. Tears stung the corners of her eyes and she gasped for air. “Don’t lie about this, not even for Devlin.”

He strode forward and gently grasped her shoulders. “This is for you. Not for him. Regan, I would have nothing if you were hurt.”

“I’m hurting now,” she said tightly.

“I know,” he whispered, pulling her up against his chest.

She fisted her hands, trying to ignore the horrid whisper in her mind that her grandfather was, indeed, capable of something so heinous. “You’re lying.”

“I found letters from your father to Lord Castlereigh. Your father had found evidence that the duke was trying to have him killed.”

Regan shook her head, but all the times her grandfather had threatened her and manipulated her flooded her mind. The man had been absolutely determined that she drop her father’s fight. He was almost obsessed with the Royalist cause. She sucked in a breath of air.

“Oh, God,” she choked. It couldn’t be possible, but it was. And worse, it made sense.

“I gave the letters to Adam. You can ask him.”

“It won’t be enough,” she said against his chest. “Not to stop him.”

“I know,” Jack murmured against her hair.

Would the duke stoop so low to further his own ends? She thought back to the other morning and the pure determination on his face as he had given her his ultimatum.

He would try to kill her just as he had done her father. He
had
tried to kill her. And it meant he’d most likely burned down the hospital, too. “I want to see him.”

Jack’s hand stroked over her back as if waiting for her to unleash a storm of pain on him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Regan tilted her head up and, for the first time in her life, she understood the kind of anger that would drive one human to kill another. The fury crawled through her veins, sick and poisonous. She drew in deep breaths, fighting off a wave of rage. “I want to see him.”

“Regan—“

“Do you think he’d kill me outright?” she demanded. “Whip out a pistol and shoot me?”

The lines around Jack’s mouth deepened. He stared at her for several seconds then finally bit out, “No. And never where there’d be witnesses.”

She licked her lips. She needed to do this. For a year, she’d lived with her father’s murder. She’d had to accept his brutal death and the fact she’d never know who’d taken him from her. Well, now she knew. And she was not going to sit quietly back. “Do you know where he is? Right now?”

Jack nodded. “O’Malley will know.”

“Good.” Regan stepped away from Jack and smoothed her hands down the front of her gown. “We’re going.” It was time she showed her grandfather just what kind of monster he was.

“You don’t have to do this. We could leave. We could leave this behind us.”

Regan reached up and touched Jack’s face. “No, we couldn’t. My father, Devlin, countless others who are nameless victims. We could leave, but he will never stop.”

“Regan, you’ve taught me that violence won’t heal our pain.”

“I’m not going to kill him.” She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. She could still see her father in her mind and it was so real that sometimes she couldn’t believe she would never see him again. Never again would she see his blue eyes dancing with amusement or experience his shrewd intellect. He’d never give a rousing speech or pat the back of her hand when he was pleased. Regan squeezed her eyes shut.