In the Devil's Bed (Sins of the Duke Book 1) (29 page)

The gentle caress of Jack’s hand touched the small of her back. “Tell me what you want.”

She opened her eyes and her heart broke at the concern stamped on his features. “I want him to look me in the face and tell me how he murdered my father.”

“Then we do this together.” He guided her back into the shelter of his arms. The strong bands of his muscles pressed her firmly against him and he cradled her head to his shoulder.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, needing to feel his strength. Apart, they were both riddled by painful pasts. But together. . . Together they were so strong. “You truly understand, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

And he did. Regan knew that if one person in this world understood the need for answers it was Jack. All his life he’d lived with the burning fire of anger. Well, she wasn’t going to let her grandfather get away with that. Not anymore. The bastard was finally going to answer for what he’d done.

Chapter 33

The carriage rolled to an abrupt halt and Jack reached out for Regan. Before he could take her hand, she flung the door open and jumped down. Without hesitating, he followed her. She was halfway across the empty street when he strode up to her and took her cold hand in his. “I can’t protect you if you run off.”

Her fingers tensed in his and she looked up at him, her eyes glowing with icy anger. “I will not be afraid anymore, and I refuse to let him control my life.”

“Regan—“

“No,” she snapped, slipping her hand from his. “This ends here.”

Jack drew in a slow breath. The anger that had ruled his life was disappearing in the face of her pain. All he wanted to do was pull her tight to his chest and ease her hurt. But he couldn’t take the pain from her, even if his heart ached to. “Then we do it together,” he said firmly.

She hesitated a moment then nodded tightly. The anger seemed to coil inside her, giving her steps a stiff air as she moved forward.

Jack let her hand go, keeping his hands free and ready to grab the pistol at his side or the knife tucked at the small of his back. Staring up at the gently swinging inn’s sign, he tightened his jaw. The building was old and squat and almost entirely silent. The Cat’s Paw Inn was not a place to drink. It was a place to hide.

They entered the narrow hallway, their footsteps creaking on the uneven wood floor. Darkness hit his eyes and he blinked.

“Where?” she whispered.

“Second floor,” he answered. O’Malley’s information had gotten tighter and tighter, but he still didn’t know the identity of the woman the duke met.

Regan moved fast, her footsteps eating up the floor as if she were driven by some unseen force. He knew that force, it had driven him, too. And now that he saw it outside himself, his own heart hammered in his chest. Is this how she had felt? Had she been afraid that he would be consumed by anger and revenge?

Because the Regan he was following was not the Regan he knew. They reached the top of the landing and she kept walking, her skirts rustling. She didn’t even pause as she demanded, “Which door?”

“The one at the end, but let me—“ Before he could finish, she was running. Jack let out a growl and strode after her. She grabbed the handle and rammed her body against the wood.

The door jamb splintered and popped open. Jack opened his mouth in shock. In that moment, he thanked God Regan didn’t have a pistol. Because, in this moment, he had no doubt that she would have used it.

***

R
egan threw the door open and advanced into the room. Her heart beat with the same pace of her feet, hard and fast. It took her eyes seconds to adjust to the scene. Her grandfather sat by the fire, a blue silk robe wrapped about his frame. A beautiful, if slightly older, woman sat at his feet, her eyes wide with shock.

The duke sat still, his face a mask.

Frenzy and rage sent her shaking and she felt Jack’s soothing presence behind her, but she couldn’t think of anything save her father. “You killed him?” Instead of the furious accusation she’d intended, her voice came out in a ragged demand.

Her grandfather’s face paled and his knuckles whitened as he grasped the armrests on his chair. “Regan—“

“Yes or no?” she gritted.

“What is she talking about?” the woman on the floor demanded. Her peach silk robe embroidered with white silk and beads shimmered as she knelt.

“Did you?” Regan demanded.

Her grandfather, the mighty Duke of Chiles, looked away and when he looked back, his eyes shone with tears. “Yes.”

With that one word, all the energy rushed out of Regan’s body and her limbs felt like lead pulling her down to the floor. But she remained upright and took a footstep forward. The air in the room thickened as if they were underwater. “You killed your son?”

“Yes,” the duke said simply, but his throat worked as if he were swallowing back a bad taste.

“You would have killed me?” The words came out of her throat like sandpaper. She had never liked this man, but she’d never known hate until this moment. It burned her body like liquid fire.

“Yes.”

At that, Jack strode forward putting his body between them. “You son of a bitch,” he bit out. The calmness was gone from Jack’s presence. Fury rippled off him. He crossed the room in two strides. He grabbed the duke and threw him against the wall.

The woman screamed.

Her grandfather started to slide down the wall, but Jack grabbed him and thrust him hard up against the surface. The duke’s head cracked back and hit the wood paneling. “I should gut you right now for putting my wife in the remotest danger.”

“I did what needed to be done,” the duke said, his voice hard and unrelenting.

“And what exactly was that?” Regan’s voice cracked through the room. She almost didn’t recognize it as her own. She crossed the distance to him slowly, not trusting herself unless she controlled every movement.

Her grandfather’s blue eyes flicked towards her and desperation creased his forehead. “It is not yours to question.”

“And my father’s life was not yours to take. Answer me.”

Chiles shook his head.

Jack’s hand whipped to the small of his back and a blade flashed in the light spilling from the windows. He pressed the edge against her grandfather’s groin. A wicked gleam burned in Jack’s eyes. “You’re not a duke here. And the only thing keeping you a man is my good will.” His fingers tightened dangerously on the knife and he leaned in ever so slightly.

Beads of sweat dotted her grandfather’s forehead and he panted.

Jack smiled, a cold calculating grin. “Answer any question she asks.”

Regan stepped beside her grandfather and she looked up into the face that reflected her father’s. The strong planes had begun to wrinkle and the blue eyes were slightly faded, but he bore the same strength and determination that her father had. . . And yet there couldn’t be two different men. “What could make you do that?” she whispered.

Chiles opened and closed his mouth. Then strangely, he turned to Jack. “Hazard, you saw what was happening in France. The chaos. The anarchy. All of it came from the uprising of the peasants. For God’s sake, the streets ran with blood. Thousands lost their lives when their society was turned topsy-turvy. The monarchy must be protected.”

Jack stared silently at the duke and Regan held her breath. How would Jack respond to the man who had taken so much from him?

Jack blinked and the cold smile vanished, replaced by grim anger. His eyes darkened and a shadow crossed over his face. “The streets of Paris?” Jack spat the words out like a curse. “To protect the precious monarchy, the fields and mountains ran red with blood. The rivers and valleys were filled with the bodies of soldiers. My only friend had his life ripped from him on the battlefield. What about him? What about the thousands of lives that died fighting for the monarchy?”

“They were expendable. They died for a righteous cause!”

Regan gasped. “You cry for the aristocrat, but don’t care about the soldier. . . or your son.”

“I loved my son.”

“God help those you hate,” Jack said evenly.

The duke closed his eyes and his throat worked as he swallowed. “The upper classes must be preserved. The peasants cannot govern. We cannot allow them to have power.”

“My father only wanted to better their lives.”

Her grandfather’s eyes snapped open. “A pretty sop. In the end, my son wanted a Republic and his education of the poor was proof of that. He had to be stopped. He was a fool.” The duke looked away and, though tense, seemed to sag. “A beautiful fool. If he’d just done as I’d told. . .” The duke swallowed and shook his head.

Regan’s stomach curdled and, for an instant, she was sure she was going to vomit. Instead, she stepped back. Her grandfather was sick. Truly sick because he still loved her father, but he’d killed him anyway. “It is you who has to be stopped.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” The duke’s lips twisted in disgust. “Kill me?”

Tears stung her eyes and she shook her head. “No, there are other ways of destroying a man.”

“Indeed?” the duke mocked. “You know how powerful I am.”

Regan glanced over her shoulder at the woman standing in the corner. The beautiful face was pale. Her hands hung limply at her sides. “You know what they say, grandfather, have an affair with a man’s wife, but never his mistress. It’s far too cruel. . . and utterly unforgivable.”

“Regan—“ The duke jerked forward, but Jack shoved him back against the wall.

Regan kept her eyes trained on the woman who had gone rigid. “Wouldn’t you say so Lady Trahern? I’m sure the king would.”

Jack’s head whipped towards Regan. “The king?”

Lady Trahern licked her lips as if trying to clean a foul essence from her mouth. “My dear, under usual circumstances, I would beg your discretion. . .“ her hazel eyes went to the duke and hardened. “But in this case, I will not say a word to defend myself. Nor can I believe that I dallied with such an inhuman man.”

“Elizabeth,” the duke gasped.

Lady Trahern ignored him. She picked up her cloak from the chair in the corner of the room. “Anything that you tell the king, I will confirm. And for your sake, I hope the king shows no mercy. At least, to him.”

Gliding with the ease and grace of a woman born to be a princess, she left the room without looking back.

Jack lowered his knife. “You’ve destroyed countless lives. You’ve used any means to attain your ends. And you’ve held nothing sacred, not even your own blood. I thought I had reason to hate you. After all, you stole my childhood.”

Chiles narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be melodramatic. I met you as a man. . .” his voice trailed off as understanding registered in his eyes. “Yorkshire.”

“A good memory, Your Grace. How many boys did you send to their deaths because they bore you no use?”

The duke tugged his robe into place and he squared his shoulders. “Many.” He tilted his head up and arched his brow. “After all, it was all you were good for.”

A growl ripped form Regan’s throat and she cracked her palm against her grandfather’s face. “Jack is the best of men.” She narrowed her eyes. “While you aren’t even human.”

Jack held out his hand. “Let’s leave now.”

Regan nodded and let her fingers be swallowed up by Jack’s big hand. They started for the door, leaving the man who had ruined both their lives behind.

“You can’t just leave.”

Regan stopped and glanced back over her shoulder.

Her grandfather stood in the center of the room. His eyes frantic and his hands outstretched. “I’m the Duke of Chiles. Regan, I’m your grandfather.”

Regan shook her head. “No. Now, you are no one.”

Jack’s fingers tightened around hers and they left together, silently, as if they both knew that together they were entering a new life. One without the shadows of the past and nothing but a future together.

Chapter 34

The world was achingly quiet. Or at least that’s how it seemed to Regan. There wasn’t any mention of her grandfather yet in the papers. But there were whispers through the gossip chains. The good duke had been brought before his majesty and it had not been an attractive sight. Word had it, that he’d been privately stripped of his title.

It was just a matter of time before it was public. Regan tightened her grip on her quill and forced herself to stare down at the columns on the parchment.

But even though she stared, she wasn’t really reading.

She was thinking. Jack had stood by her, offering his support, his strength and his love when she’d confronted her grandfather. But he hated the man as much as she. Every part of her wanted to believe that he hadn’t been driven by just his own revenge. Had he helped her for her sake? Or just his own. Regan closed her eyes against the painful thought.

Now that her grandfather was on the verge of ruination, would Jack ever be able to let go of the past? She opened her eyes and blinked.

If it wasn’t for the fact that her father would have condemned any sort of revenge, she might have asked herself the same question. But her grandfather had ruined too many lives for her to let him ruin her own. Whatever had happened to her father, James Chance was at peace now. And in time, she would find peace, too. But could Jack?

Regan winced and threw down her quill. She rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. It didn’t help. She sighed and stared out the window. The faint hint of green dusted the oak trees. Spring was almost here. She wanted to feel the warmth it would give and see the light. After the last year, she wanted to leave the dark of winter behind and just step out into the sun. But she didn’t wish to do it alone. Not now.

“Lost in thought?” Jack’s voice rolled through the room, warming her.

Regan smiled despite her unpleasant thoughts. She turned to face him. “Yes. But not too lost.”

He stood just in the doorway, a large roll of parchment in his hand. His shirt was open at the neck and his black hair had fallen to brush his temples. For the first time she’d known him, Jack looked hesitant. Yet at the same time, a hint of mischief sparked in his eyes.

“What have you been doing?” Regan asked, her voice edged with suspicion.