Perfect Bride (6 page)

“Then perhaps I should leave, sir!”

“Not until you are well.” A peremptory command, no less!

Their eyes dueled. “I’ll have you know my father was from a family finer than yours!” she spouted. “And he lived in a house far grander than this one!”

“Ah, yes, with your mother the queen. Do forgive
my
lapse in memory. Though indeed, I have the feel
ing there’s much more you could tell me about last night.”

“I think not.”

“Then perhaps I should return when you’re more disposed to converse.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t return at all.”

“Oh, but I shall. And I promise we shall continue our discussion.” But he made no effort to depart, re
maining at the bedside, regarding her in that assess
ing manner she already disliked.

She plucked at the soft folds of the gown she wore. “This is not mine,” she muttered.

“No. It belongs to my sister, Julianna, who is trav
eling on the Continent. If she were here, she would be the one to nurse you, and not I. She’s always been one to tend poor animals and such.”

Devon gritted her teeth. “I am not an animal.”

“I apologize. It was a poor choice of words.”

He didn’t sound very apologetic. Devon glared. “I suppose it was you who put me in this night rail as well.”

“I did indeed.”

Heat flooded her face. “I thought you said you were a marquess!”

“I am.”

“Then have you no servants?” Her shock had turned to outrage. “Why, I’m surprised you deigned to lay a finger on someone so obviously inferior!”

His smile held little mirth. “Oh, it would take a good deal more to put me off. So think of me as your nurse, Miss St. James, and rest assured I shall en
deavor to make your recovery a speedy one. And,” he added smoothly when he saw her gaping, “if you’re going to ask why we didn’t summon a physician...well, I daresay a physician would have asked more questions than you appear willing to answer.”

Devon checked her biting retort. He was right; she should mind her tongue. Mama had often chided her for not guarding it more closely. She resented his arrogance and overbearing manner, but there was little she could do about her fate right now. She re
minded herself she was warm and dry—and far away from Harry and Freddie.

He shifted, suddenly so close she could smell the starch of his shirt. She tried to recoil from his near
ness, but there was nowhere to go. His fingertips slid over the delicate skin just below her ear, down the side of her neck.

“You’ve bruises there,” he observed grimly.

Devon said nothing. She tried to read the thoughts behind the depths of his eyes, but she could not peer within, any more than she could have peered down the darkest alley on a moonless night.

“Would you care to tell me how you came by them?”

The burning in her side was suddenly intense and throbbing, but it was like nothing compared to the ache in her breast. Black despair slipped over her heart. What was the use? His kind would never be
lieve her.

“No,” she muttered.

“Are you in pain?”

Though his expression was intent, the harshness was gone from his voice. Devon refused to be lured. Mutely she shook her head.

He persisted. “Perhaps some laudanum—”

“What, to coax me into talking?”

Silence. “No,” he said finally. “It will help you rest.”

“I shall be fine.” She pressed her lips together, hor
rified to discover that tears lurked but a heartbeat away. She was determined not to reveal how close she was to breaking down, but if he stayed any longer, she wasn’t sure she could stop them.

She averted her gaze. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone now.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw his brother’s shadow shift toward the door, but the marquess had yet to move. She could feel his gaze boring into her.

“You must be hungry. I’ll send someone up with food.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “As long as it isn’t you.”

“Given your present state, Miss St. James, I shall pretend I didn’t hear that.” He gave a slight bow. “In the meantime I shall look forward to our next meeting.”

Devon, on the other hand, most certainly did
not
.

utside in the hall, Justin crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Sebastian. “Quite the ter
magant, isn’t she?” Sebastian snorted. “Termagant? I can think of a word far more fitting and much less proper.” The corner of Justin’s mouth twitched. “The girl has gumption, you must admit. I found it vastly amusing when she called you Lord Shyte.”

“I’m sure you did, and I agree she has gumption. But she’s hiding something, Justin. I’m sure of it.” A gleam entered Justin’s eyes. “Shall we entertain a wager?”

“You’d lose,” Sebastian predicted bluntly.

Justin merely laughed.

After dinner that evening, Sebastian retired to the li brary and his favorite chair. The day had been a busy one. Business had occupied much of the afternoon, as well as nagging thoughts of the girl upstairs. He
still wasn’t sure precisely what they’d gotten into. Although, he reflected wryly, it appeared she was doing her best to forget
him
. He’d looked in on her once, but the instant she saw him, she screwed her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep.

The Wetherby ball was tonight, but he’d sent a note declining. He didn’t feel right about leaving an injured woman alone with just the servants to tend her. No doubt the gossips would be all abuzz, won
dering at his absence, particularly after his an
nouncement at the Farthingales’, but the decision had been an easy one.

His search for a bride would simply have to com
mence later.

Settling into his chair, he reached for the newspa
per. It had arrived earlier in the afternoon, but this was the first chance he’d had to read it.

It wasn’t long before he heard Justin come in, then call for the carriage to be brought round in an hour’s time. Justin stopped in the doorway.

“I thought you’d be dressing for the Wetherby ball.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I think not,” he said dryly. With his thumb he gestured toward the ceiling.

“Ah, yes. I forgot. You’ll be guarding the silver.” Justin stripped off his gloves. “How is she, by the way?”

“Better than I expected, though she still doesn’t seem to have taken much of a liking to me.”

“Yes. One can only wonder why...” Justin paused. “Are you sure you won’t attend the Wetherby ball?”

“I’m sure.”

“You won’t find the perfect bride sitting here at home. I vow all of London’s lovelies will be there.”

“And they’ll all be looking at you. Besides, as I have survived over thirty years without a bride, there’s no harm in waiting awhile longer.” Sebastian flipped open the paper.

Justin chuckled. “I think you’re wrong there. In fact, I know it.” Before he could stop him, Justin grabbed the paper in hand. Rattling it with a flour
ish, he cleared his throat. “Here,” he announced, “is the latest in today’s society column.” He proceeded to quote.

Ladies, set your caps! According to the marquess of Thurston, the city’s most celebrated bachelor, Thurston’s search for a bride is on...

“Oh, Lord,” Sebastian muttered, snatching it back into his grasp.

“I vow, Sebastian, after that juicy tidbit all the lovelies will be disappointed you’re not present. And I shall simply have to console them somehow.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Sebastian was al
ready ensconced in his paper.

“Oh, I shall. Have a pleasant evening.”

But Justin had scarcely crossed the room before Sebastian erupted with a curse. Justin glanced back over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Sebastian’s expression was grim. “I knew it! I knew she was hiding something!”

Justin looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

Sebastian flicked a finger at the newspaper. “Re
member the man she spoke of? Well, a man was found dead on the street adjacent to where I found our esteemed houseguest.”

“Good Lord.”

“He was apparently a member of a gang in St. Giles.” Two white lines had formed beside Sebastian’s mouth. “ There was a dagger discovered near his body.”

Justin looked at his brother. “Surely,” he said slowly, “you don’t think—”

“What I think is that another visit to the lovely Miss St. James is in order. I do believe she can shed some light on the matter.” He reached the door and yanked it open. “Christ,” he muttered, “I should never have brought her here.”

Justin was right beside him as he mounted the stairs. In the yellow room, Devon was sitting back against the pillows. Tansy, one of the maids, had just removed a tray from her lap. In some distant part of him, Sebastian was pleased to note she’d eaten nearly all of her dinner.

Her chin came up when she saw him. “Well, if it isn’t my lord Shyte!”

Sebastian smiled thinly. “It’s good to see you’re feeling better. Perhaps you’ll be more obliging with the truth.” He stopped at the side of the bed and tossed the newspaper on her lap. “I think you’ll find this bit of news most interesting.” He rapped a fin
ger on the headline.

Wide golden eyes traveled from his face to the pa
per. She spoke not a word.

“Well?” he demanded.

She maintained her silence.

“Miss St. James?”

She gave a little shake of her head. “I-I can’t read. I mean...I know all the letters, but I-I can’t put them together into words, except for my name.”

Inwardly Sebastian cursed himself for a heel. He should have known!

“Well, then, I shall oblige.” He picked up the pa
per. “A man was found in St. Giles this morning. Just a short distance away from where I found
you
.”

Her color was distinctly paler.

“According to the story, a woman was seen wear
ing a long, mud-colored cloak and a large bonnet.”

Her gaze slid to her bedraggled bonnet, hanging on the post of the silk-striped damask chair across the room.

He continued. “ ‘The woman,’ ” he quoted, “was given to a plump disposition.” He cast a pointed look at the pillow on the chair, then back to her face.

She was chewing her lower lip. His gaze pinned hers, then hers slipped away. A guilty look, if ever there was one.

“This man was struck down, Miss St. James. Stabbed in the chest.”

“What?” she said faintly. “Are you saying that he’s dead?”

“Indeed. There was a dagger by his side. The con
stable is speculating it’s the murder weapon.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

“Thus my question. Was this man struck down by your hand?”

Her lips parted. It was not the answer he sought; yet in truth, her stricken expression was the only an
swer he needed.

“Who struck first?”

She avoided his gaze. “The dagger is mine,” she admitted, her tone very low. “But it wasn’t what you think. Truly it wasn’t.”

“Were you trying to steal from him?”

Her eyes slid back to his. “No!”

“Was it a lovers’ tiff then?”

“A lovers’...I have no lover,” she gasped. “I told you last night he was trying to steal from me! He stole my wages, and he tried to steal my necklace!”

Sebastian ignored the tremulous quiver of those lush lips and pressed on. The time was ripe to pluck at the truth, and he knew it.

“The paper claims he was a member of a gang,” Sebastian said. “Did you know him?”

“No. I swear, I did not. I only knew
of
him.” She shuddered. “His name was Freddie.” Her gaze skipped to Justin, who had moved to the end of the bed.

“All we ask is the truth,” Justin said quietly.

“They blocked my way—Freddie and his brother Harry.” Her eyes flashed accusingly as she ad
dressed Sebastian. “I told you there were two of them. Harry reached into my pocket and grabbed my purse. He ran down the alley with it. Freddie tried to take my necklace from the other. I didn’t care if they stole my wages, but I couldn’t let them take my necklace! I tried to stop Freddie, but he put his hands around my throat, and I couldn’t breathe! I re
member, I reached for the dagger. It was in my boot.”

Sebastian’s gaze now rested on the side of her neck.
So that was how she’d come by those bruises,
he thought.
When Freddie tried to strangle her
.

Justin spoke his thoughts aloud. “It must have
been Harry who returned and found Freddie’s body.”

“Not necessarily,” said Sebastian. “It could have been someone else. But perhaps he’s the one who in
formed the police—”

Devon shook her head. “No. He wouldn’t dare, for fear of being caught himself. But it could have been one of his cronies planted a bug in the constable’s ear.” She blinked rapidly and looked down. Sebas
tian frowned.

“Either way,” she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper, “it doesn’t matter. He’s looking for me, and so is the constable.”

“They’re looking for a woman with a large belly, a cloak, and a ridiculous bonnet,” Sebastian pointed out. “For a woman who claims she’s not a thief, you were certainly dressed like one.”

That brought her head up in a flash. “Do not pre
sume to call me that which I am not. It seems I am a murderer, but I am not a thief!”

“How do you make your living then?”

“I work at the Crow’s Nest, I daresay an establish
ment two fine gentlemen like yourselves are scarcely wont to visit.”

Such impertinence! Why, she sounded a veritable hoity-toity miss!

He glanced at Justin. “It’s an alehouse not far from the docks,” Justin supplied.

No wonder she’d smelled of fish and smoke and ale!

He addressed her once more. “You certainly went to great lengths to conceal your form.”

“Not for the reason you believe!”

He raised his brows. “I should like to hear that reason,” he said calmly.

Her eyes were smoldering. He strongly suspected that had she possessed the strength, she’d have cheerfully fastened her fingers around
his
neck.

“I rent a room from a man named Phillips, in a house near Shelton Street. It’s very late when I make my way home. If you must know, it—it’s my way of protecting myself.”

Sebastian and Justin looked at each other. Both men were clearly confused.

Their guest looked at them both as if they were dolts. “Men seldom look twice at a woman heavy with child. At least that was my experience until last night.” She paused. “I didn’t mean to kill Freddie,” she said quaveringly. “I only meant to stop him.”

A plausible explanation. Perhaps the better ques
tion was if it was a truthful one. Carefully Sebastian regarded her, gauging the way those soft pink lips had begun to tremble. Or was it but a trick of the eve
ning light? Perhaps her defiance was nothing but sheer bravado.

She looked at Sebastian. “You should have left me there,” she said, her voice very low. “It would have been better—”

“Nonsense!” His tone was sharp.