Lord Lucifer Read online

  An embrace, body to body for comfort. And yet he felt so much more. Every part of him bristled with a wariness that only made his perception of her all the more intense. He felt her breath catch when he pressed his lips to her hair. And he felt the grip of her fingers as she pressed her body intimately close.

  He pulled her higher on his body, his groin thickening as she rolled over him. His thoughts narrowed down to her hair, her grip, her breath. She unbalanced him with urgency, and he stumbled slightly beneath her weight. He spun them around, pressing her against the wall while shutting the door with a quick flick of his wrist.

  The door banged into place, and he flinched. He tried to pull away, but she would have none of it. Her body was shuddering against his. Reaction? Need? He had no idea. He knew he was vulnerable with his back to the room. She could be hurt, and he could not allow that.

  So, he set her apart from him. And while he searched every shadow, he knew that he was undone. No soldier allowed himself to be distracted as he had. No warrior protecting anyone put his back to the room while taking his fill of a woman, no matter how tempting. It had only been a hug for comfort. She’d been attacked. Every man, woman, and child would need to be held after a thing like that.

  She touched his back with a tentative stroke.

  “Lucas? What are you looking for?”

  Threats. Attackers.

  “Nothing,” he rasped. There was no one there. Then he glanced at the door and remembered how it had slammed shut. “We made noise,” he said.

  He felt her look at the door. He didn’t know how he felt it. She had only her hand on his back, but he knew when she looked and realized what they’d just done.

  “Oh God,” Diana whispered. “What is happening to me?”

  It was the aftermath of battle. He’d seen countless men indulge in every aspect of the body as a way of suppressing what had happened, what might happen tomorrow, and what couldn’t be accepted by any rational, moral person. He would not read anything more into it than that. So rather than think of Diana and all his confusingly aroused thoughts of her, he focused on his immediate task. Had anyone heard him slam Diana’s door, and did it matter?

  “It’s quiet,” he said. He went to the door and eased it open so he could look through the crack. He scanned the hallway. “No one is there.” He listened to the steady snores of her husband. “His lordship rests—” No, wait. Oscar wasn’t sleeping. His gentle breaths were interrupted by a wet cough followed by a low moan. He turned to Diana. “Is that normal for him?”

  He glanced back at her long enough to see her frown and shake her head. That was enough for Lucas. He moved quickly to his lordship’s bedroom door and eased it open. The smell hit him first. The man had fouled the bed. But that didn’t stop him from checking every shadow before he let Diana into the room.

  She brushed quickly past him as she headed to her husband’s side. “Oscar?” she said. “Oscar!”

  She flipped back the bedcovers and gasped in horror. There was blood in the sheets where he’d fouled the bed. Diana grasped the bed pull and hauled on it hard, even as she was touching her husband’s face.

  “Oscar! Oscar, wake up!”

  But the man’s eyes didn’t open, even when Lucas lit an oil lamp set by the door. He could see the panic in Diana’s eyes as she shook her husband’s shoulders. He knew it was too late. Death was upon him. They only waited for the rattle that would signal the end.

  “Oscar!”

  Footsteps came running up the stairs, and Lucas turned to see who approached. His lordship’s valet and the butler, Simpson. He let them hurry inside and watched when they recognized what was happening.

  “Quickly!” Diana said. “Fetch the doctor!”

  It wouldn’t help. Indeed, even as Simpson ran back to do as she asked, he heard the rattle. A gasp and a choke combined. Diana heard it, too, and she grabbed her husband’s hand.

  “Oscar, breathe! You must breathe!”

  Some things couldn’t be ordered, and Lucas kept an eye on the shadows and the valet, just in case. But he was also aware of the tension in Diana’s body. The horror in her eyes and the way she put a hand to her husband’s chest, hand flat, fingers extended.

  “Oscar, please. Not like this. Not…” Her voice broke. “Oscar…please breathe.”

  He did not. And neither, it seemed, did she. Her breath caught and held, and while everyone in the room strained to hear his lordship’s inhale, they heard nothing but the pounding of their own hearts. At least that’s what Lucas heard until Diana’s body forced her to draw breath.

  She did with a choking kind of gasp. And then the valet spoke gently into the silence.

  “My lady, perhaps you should go into your room. I’ll clean up here.”

  “But I don’t understand,” she said. “He was fine earlier. He said he felt better. But this…” she gestured to the bed. “This is wrong!”

  He concurred with that. He could tell by Diana’s reaction that this was not the normal course of her husband’s illness. But the valet didn’t understand what she was trying to say.

  “I’ll take care of it, my lady,” he said. “You may rely on me.”

  She shifted such that she was gripping her husband’s hand. “I don’t understand,” she said to his thick knuckles. “He was sitting up. He drank his tea.”

  A discordant note sounded in Lucas’s thoughts, but he couldn’t isolate it. For all that he did nothing but stand by the door, his senses were filled with her distress. He couldn’t ease her pain. He couldn’t even go to her side and hold her. That wasn’t his place. The best he could do was stand guard at the door and protect her from harm. But even as he scanned the shadows again, his mind churned over what she had said, sifted through his memories of the evening, and finally—slowly—he remembered something important.

  “You said the tea had gone off.” He looked at Diana. He could tell she hadn’t understood what he said. “His tea. You told Tina to have it thrown out. That you would order more in the morning.”

  She nodded, though it was clear she didn’t comprehend. “Yes. He said it was too sweet. That Mama had probably doctored it with something to help him.”

  “Your mother?” That didn’t make sense.

  She straightened up. “She’s always talking about special herbs and teas. Thinks the right leaves will cure anything.”

  Or kill. He looked at the sheets with clearer eyes. This wasn’t normal sickness. This was the result of poison.

  “Where?” Lucas rasped. “Where is the tea kept?”

  “Belowstairs, in the kitchen with all the other tea. Why?”

  Lucas didn’t wait to answer. He was already rushing down the stairs. He heard her call after him, but he had to get that tea. He wasn’t an expert in poisons by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew some basics. Simpson was just coming up, no doubt, after dispatching a footman for the doctor. Lucas dodged him and headed straight for the kitchen, where anyone could have gotten into the tea.

  He hauled open the cabinet, but the special tin wasn’t there. Likely already thrown out by Mrs. Hopkins. He knew where the garbage was kept, and sure enough, the tin was there at the top of the rubbish. He pulled it up and pried open the lid. There were white crystals like sugar in the tea, and when he sniffed, he smelled nothing beyond the usual scents. But the tea leaves were strong, and many poisons didn’t have a scent.

  He pulled up a bit of it on his finger and tasted it. Sweet, but not like sugar. There was a metallic tang to it that suggested something more sinister. He set down the tin and watched as the butler came into the room, followed closely by Diana.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as her gaze took in what he held.

  “Send for the constable,” he said. “I think that’s filled with arsenic.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lucas wanted to help her. He saw her shock and pain, then watched with admiration as she took control of her home despite the way her voice shook, and her hands trembled.
She ordered the cook to provide food and strong tea for the staff just now rousing in the middle of the night, and for the people who would soon arrive. She commanded the poisoned tin to be set back in its customary place for the constable to see and then went to her bedroom to dress for the arrival of the Watch.

  He could do no more than order a man to be sure the tin remained in its place without tampering by anyone, and he sent another to rouse Elliott and his wife. Though Diana would likely object, they would provide support for her where he could not. Then he climbed the stairs and stood guard outside her bedroom door while he stewed over what to do.

  He was a soldier, not a constable or barrister. He knew Geoffrey was the murderer. Indeed, now he understood why the man had left so easily earlier. He’d practically crowed victory when he’d heard that Oscar was upstairs drinking tea. He’d known his father would soon be dead from poison, and most would assume that Oscar’d finally succumbed to his illness.

  After identifying the enemy, a soldier’s job was to eliminate the problem with lethal precision. Indeed, the urge to find Geoffrey and slit the bastard’s throat was burning in his gut. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible because he wasn’t in the middle of a war. This was London, on a night already filled with violence. He doubted Diana could handle another incident without breaking, and his job, first and foremost, was to protect her. He couldn’t do that if he was off killing Geoffrey while she faced the constable and Oscar’s other children alone.

  So, he remained outside her door while frustration coiled in his gut. Fortunately, the Watch arrived with speed and the constable soon after. They met him down in the front parlor. Diana led the way with Lucas a half step behind, ready to spring into action, though there was no immediate danger anywhere.

  The constable was a dour man with a square jaw. Simpson led him upstairs to view the body—only partially cleaned. With the help of the doctor who arrived soon after, the man agreed with the determination of poison and also helped identify the additive in his lordship’s tea as arsenic. All good, but then the night took on an appalling twist.

  “So you were at a party when his lordship was poisoned?” the constable asked as they returned to the parlor. “And who gave his lordship his tea? It was your mother, wasn’t it? At your direction?”

  Diana answered with the poise expected of a lady. She remained calm and, though her hands tightened to white where she gripped them in her lap, she did not react to the man’s increasingly hostile tone.

  That was left to Lucas as his temper finally broke. “Those are some very specific questions, sir. Where did you get this information?”

  “I’ll ask the questions, boy. If you interrupt me again, I’ll have you removed and whipped.”

  No one had called him boy even when he was a lad, but he’d long since learned not to respond to a jibe with unthinking anger. “I am a member of her ladyship’s household, and you have no authority to have me removed from the room much less whipped. Now I ask again, how do you know to ask such questions?”

  “It’s a logical question, boy. Who gave the poison—”

  “No, the logical question is who put the poison in the tea, and I can tell you that. It was Mr. Geoffrey Hough, who is anxious to inherit before his time.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed as he lifted his chin, triumph in his gaze. “As it happens, this isn’t the first time I’ve been asked to investigate her ladyship. Earlier this evening, Mr. Hough told me of his concern for his father. Said that he thought her ladyship might do something dire to his father. Likely poison, he said, as she is the one who controls his food, all the way down to the tea he drinks each night.”

  Diana gasped. “And why would I kill my husband?”

  “Mayhap, you got tired of caring for him. That’s why you went to the party, is it not? To escape endless days and nights in the sickroom? Seems to me a pretty young girl like you would find it hard to care for a sick old man.”

  “Seems to me that the murderer spoke with you to throw suspicion elsewhere,” Lucas returned.

  “And who are you to question my investigation, boy? You’re pretty hot to defend the lady. Mayhap you were the one who got her the poison, eh? Are you her lover?”

  “Don’t be insulting,” Diana snapped, her tone as imperious as a queen.

  Unfortunately, the constable was a man who enjoyed his authority over his purpose. He liked intimidating people, and if he could hand a story of a murderous wife and her lover to the papers, then that would only increase his power. He wouldn’t be surprised if Geoffrey had already offered the man a generous gift for his help. The truth wouldn’t matter. Attention, advancement, or money were his only motivators, and likely Geoffrey had sewn those up.

  Which meant Diana’s only hope of not being caught up in a nightmare was to show the constable that she had powerful friends on her side. And pursuing Geoffrey’s version of the story would damage the constable.

  There was no choice now. Elliott wasn’t here, and Lucas would not subject Diana to one more minute of this obnoxious man while undefended. So Lucas took a breath and said the one thing that he’d been denying for years.

  “Careful, constable. I am Captain Lucas Crosse, Lord Chellam, and the son of the Earl of Wolvesmead. Lady Dunnamore’s brother, you know him as Lord Byrn, asked that I position myself here because of Mr. Hough’s threats to her person. He’s most anxious to get his inheritance, and obviously, he’s finally managed to do it.”

  It was a significant moment for Lucas. He’d resisted telling his identity to everyone, including his family. That he had to reveal himself now, to this toad, made his throat tighten with disgust. And if there was any reward for what he’d just done, it was the way Diana turned to him, her mouth parted in shock, and her eyes wide with sympathy. She knew what revealing himself this way had cost him. But she was the only one who seemed to understand.

  Diana’s servants seemed to nod as if they had expected something like that. His men already knew. And the constable—the very person he’d meant to impress—seemed completely unaffected.

  “All the more reason to suspect you are her lover and a partner in her crimes.”

  Geoffrey must have offered the man a great deal of money. With a grimace of disgust, Lucas looked at Simpson. “I believe it’s time to summon her ladyship’s solicitor.” The butler nodded and turned to speak with a footman while Lucas turned to Diana. “Perhaps you should go upstairs and rest. At least until Elliott arrives. He should be here soon.”

  Diana arched a brow at him. And though her blue eyes were filled with pain, she shook her head. “I will remain here and face my accuser, even in the guise of a constable more interested in courting favor than in finding the truth.”

  It was well said, but it had little positive effect. The constable sputtered with outrage, and he was then cemented in his opposition. Lucas had to stop himself from punching the man. He couldn’t even step in front of Diana to block her from his attacks. She wouldn’t tolerate the insult to her authority, and it would do no good in any event. So he stood by her side and counted the seconds until help could arrive.

  It came in the form of Elliott and his wife. Amber went straight to Diana, taking her hands and soothing her as only women can. Elliott checked that his sister was safe, then turned to him. Lucas responded without even needing the question.

  “Someone placed arsenic in his lordship’s special tea.”

  “Geoffrey, obviously,” Elliott said. “But how?”

  “If you can keep Diana safe, I will investigate,” Lucas said. “Someone will tell the truth, and then the whole thing will unravel.”

  Elliott nodded, his expression troubled. “So, the man takes one last go at Diana in Vauxhall, then poisons his father’s tea before making a big show of leaving.”

  Ignoring the constable’s attempts to insert himself into the conversation, Lucas turned to Simpson, who was listening with a deep frown on his face. “Who could have done it?”

  The butler shook his hea
d. “Anyone, my lord. The tea wasn’t kept under lock and key. We all knew it was for Lord Dunnamore.”

  Diana spoke up. “I drank the tea with him. Sometimes.” Then her eyes widened. “But it didn’t agree with my stomach—”

  “And so you stopped,” Lucas finished for her.

  Diana pressed a hand to her mouth in shock. “You think Geoffrey has been poisoning the tea all along?”

  Elliott took her hand. “We will likely never know. But it is assured that he has been pushed into drastic action now. We must make sure you are safe.”

  Lucas concurred. “The solicitor is on his way. Get the will read immediately. He’s less dangerous to her after he inherits. And it will give us time to investigate.”

  “She’ll stay with Amber and me,” Elliott said firmly.

  His wife concurred. “Come along. I’ll help you gather your things.”

  Everyone seemed to be in agreement. Everyone, that is, except Diana. Looking at her, he saw determination coupled with an angry kind of resignation, but he couldn’t fathom why.

  “Diana?”

  She looked at him with a frustrated expression, and this time, he couldn’t stop himself from going to her side. He touched her shoulder and studied her face when she looked up at him. And then she gripped his fingers as if grounding herself with a touchstone.

  “It won’t make it better,” she whispered.

  “Why? Whyever not?”

  She blinked away her tears. “Do you really think Oscar was that much of an idiot? That he didn’t see the way of things with Geoffrey? At least financially? From the moment Oscar became ill, I began to manage the household affairs. And then the full estate. The more unmanageable Geoffrey became, the more Oscar turned affairs over to me.”

  Elliott nodded. “Then he had more sense than I thought.”

  She shot her brother a frustrated look. Obviously, he didn’t understand what she was saying. But Lucas did, and he was terrified of the implications.