Lord Lucifer Read online

  Lilah’s expression softened with relief. “Thank you.”

  Diana smiled. She was happy to help. But as much as she enjoyed seeing her brother ecstatically happy, she couldn’t deny a twinge of jealousy. He was a titled man of means. He could afford to find and marry a woman he loved. She, on the other hand, was a woman who had been sacrificed so he could have time to grow up. It wasn’t fair, but she’d grown past the resentment. Or she had until Lucas brought everything back.

  But rather than return to those thoughts, she focused on her sister. “Tell me something exciting. What have you been doing these days?”

  Her sister released a laugh. “There is nothing exciting in my days. Mama wants me to get Gwen outside to someplace other than the lending library.”

  “You should go to a party. Both of you. Something fun.”

  Lilah leaned forward. “I will if you will.”

  Diana shook her head. “My place is here beside my husband.”

  “Your place was there on the day of your wedding. And now your place is to oversee his household and his care—”

  “It is.”

  “But it is not to hide away.” She took a breath and dared touch Diana’s hand. It was a bold move for her, but one that was deeply appreciated. “You will need to wrap yourself in crepe soon enough. When he dies, you will be locked away in mourning. Take a moment now to get out of this house just for an evening.” Then she shrugged. “And if we can force Gwen to accompany you, so much the better.”

  It was a tempting idea, to be sure. Gwen was twenty-eight and needed to find a husband immediately. And if she could get Lilah out into society, then the woman might meet a man who was willing to overlook her illegitimate birth. Perhaps there could be happiness for her sisters.

  “You said you wanted a way out of your melancholy,” Lilah coaxed. “Couldn’t this be the way?”

  It wasn’t her melancholy she needed to escape, but Lucas, who had invaded her home and upset her equilibrium. Then the idea came to her.

  She snapped her fingers in triumph. “A masquerade!” she said. That would give time for a gentleman to become intrigued with Lilah before her identity was revealed. Plus, they were known to be more forgiving with the invitations as members of the not-quite-proper ton came out to play.

  But Lilah shook her head. “Gwen would never go to such a thing. She would find it too frivolous.”

  “She finds people too frivolous. If we could dress up a book in trousers, then she might be interested.” Diana shook her head. “No, I have decided. The very next masquerade shall have all three of us in attendance. Tell Gwen I desperately need the frivolity.”

  “You do need it.”

  “And I will not have it unless both my sisters attend.”

  Lilah frowned. “I might be able to convince her.” She sounded doubtful but willing to try.

  “The harder part will be to keep Mama away. There can be no fun with her constant interfering.” And no chance that Lilah would be able to kick up her heels a bit. Mama was ever vigilant that Lilah did not put herself forward. In truth, Diana thought it cruel to give Lilah all the trappings of gentility but none of the possible futures. Sadly, that was the way with by-blows. If they were lucky, they were given a place in the household as an unpaid servant. It was a difficult life, but at least she was not on the street.

  Then Diana had an idea. “I shall ask Mama to reside here for the evening in case Oscar needs something.”

  Lilah’s eyes widened in horror. “Mama abhors a sickbed.”

  “But I will remind her that it is her motherly duty to help every once in a while.” Her tone grew harder in memory. “Just as she told me over and over that it was my daughterly duty to marry Oscar.”

  Lilah nodded. “Giving you one night away is the least she can do.”

  “We have a pact then? The very next masquerade—”

  “Will see three sisters attend. Yes.”

  They even shook hands on the bargain.

  *

  Lucas smiled as he loitered outside Diana’s bedroom door. Now that was a great idea.

  Chapter Five

  Lucas paced in the dark, allowing his nerves free rein. He was completely alone here, so he could run a hole in the threadbare carpet if need be. Not twenty minutes ago, he’d sent missives to two of his best friends from school. Aaron and Jackson had been his constant companions until circumstances had thrown them to the four winds. It had been the most natural thing in the world for the three future earls to become steadfast friends, but then he’d gone to war, and he hadn’t seen them since.

  The missives had requested their appearance in Aaron’s own front parlor with no signature provided. That was enough of a mystery that they ought to be here any moment now. And Lucas could only imagine what they would say to finding their supposedly dead friend had unlawfully entered Aaron’s home only to wait for their arrival.

  He heard them arrive, one through the front, the other through the back. The house was dark because Aaron’s lazy servants had long since disappeared to their own entertainments. Lucas forced himself to stand in a relaxed pose next to the cold fireplace, and he waited.

  A moment later, Aaron eased into the parlor from the dining room. His dark body was outlined with broad shoulders and a lean waist grown impossibly broader and leaner, respectively, since they last saw one another. Jackson was the overly tall one with the strength of a bull and the stomach of a goat, since he could and had eaten whatever food was put in front of him. At least he had when they were boys. Who knew what either man’s habits were now?

  When Lucas saw that both men came alone, he squatted down and lit the fire. The coals caught quickly because he had prepared them beforehand, and then he waited as the flames grew and lit his face such that his friends would know him.

  Or he hoped they would know him.

  Jackson reacted first, his breath expelling on a low growl. “Is that one of your sister’s ghosts?”

  “Don’t think so,” Aaron responded. “Unless ghosts smell like the sewer.”

  Lucas stiffened. “I do not smell like the sewer. I smell like your kitchen waste. Your window stuck as I was trying to gain entry, and I fell. Don’t you know that muck will attract rats?”

  Aaron lit an oil lamp and brought it forward. His eyes were narrowed, and his brows drew down in confusion, but he was no less intimidating as he loomed close. “By God, Lucas, is that you?”

  He raised his hands in a shrug. “Seems so.”

  “Seems so!” Jackson snapped as he rushed forward to grab Lucas’s elbow and spin him until they were face to face. “Seems so? We thought you dead!” He gripped Lucas’s shoulders and hauled him into a warm embrace.

  Lucas tensed. No one had dared touch him like this in years. And he certainly hadn’t been slapped on the back as he if it had been a few months instead of twelve years since they’d last seen each other. But this was Jackson, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his friend until he was already in the man’s embrace.

  “Leave off, Sayres,” Aaron said, using Jackson’s courtesy title. “Let me see him.” He set down the lamp and stood there studying Lucas from head to toe. Lucas had been inspected hundreds of times before. The army was filled with superior officers who had taken his measure with a long heavy stare. He had endured them all, but this was different. This was Aaron, and his insides twitched as he waited to see his friend’s reaction.

  But as the minutes wore on, Lucas had to say something to break the tension. “Have you gone blind, old man?” Aaron was the oldest of them by seven months.

  “Not blind,” he said slowly. “Just damned emotional.”

  The man didn’t appear emotional at all. His jaw was set, his gaze was steady, and even his hands were still. But his feet twitched as he shifted slightly forward, then slightly back. Not enough for anyone but his best friend to notice.

  “I’m alive,” Lucas said gently.

  “Thank God,” Aaron breathed out. Then the two of
them collapsed together, hugging each other as they hadn’t for twelve years.

  “Call for some brandy, Aaron,” Jackson said. “The finest you’ve got.”

  Aaron released Lucas and shot the man a dark look. “You’re always so free with my brandy.”

  “Lucas back from the dead deserves—”

  “I didn’t say you were wrong. Just that you’re free with my drink.” That was true. Aaron always had the best drink; Jackson had the most charm. And together, they let Lucas devise schemes that entertained them all. And often got them deep in someone’s ill graces.

  They broke apart, Aaron to tug the bellpull, Jackson to open the sideboard and bring out a half-filled bottle, and Lucas to stand awkwardly by the fire, wondering how to broach the topic of what he wanted. Didn’t need to. Aaron knew how things were with him. Always had.

  “Here’s how it’s going to go,” he said sternly. “First, you’re going to tell us where you’ve been for the last decade, then you can ask us what you want.” He frowned. “Where’s Binner?”

  “Out to dinner?” Jackson echoed back.

  “Binner, your butler?”

  “Yes. And come to think of it, where’s my sister? She should be home.”

  “I got her an invite to a séance. It’s all very safe, and I knew she’d want to go—”

  “What!” Aaron exclaimed. “The devil you say.”

  “Relax. As I said, it’s all very harmless. Should take another couple hours.” Aaron’s sister, Clara, had a fascination with the occult. And since Lucas had needed her out of the house, this was the safest, easiest way.

  “You should not encourage her in that nonsense.”

  Lucas shook his head. “She’s an intelligent woman. Do try to trust in her good sense.”

  “She believes in ghosts!”

  “So did your mother,” Jackson said. “The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.”

  “That’s hardly a recommendation for good sense,” Aaron returned as he stepped into the hallway. “Binner! Where are you, man?”

  “The house is empty, save us,” Lucas said. He’d made sure of it when he got here. “Your butler is at the pub down the way, and the others are gone with him or to their own amusements.” He blew out a breath. “You really need to take your staff in hand. How can you run a government if you’re not able to keep your own servants in line?”

  Aaron was grumbling as he went to the kitchen. He returned a moment later with glasses in one hand and a cleaning towel in the other. He cleaned the glasses one by one before handing them over to Jackson, who poured them all large measures.

  “My sister runs the household—” Aaron said.

  “Badly,” Jackson said.

  Aaron shot the man a hard look, but he didn’t disagree. “I manage the finances and the…” he waved his hand. “Politics.”

  Aaron was a member of the House of Commons until such time as his father popped off and he inherited an earldom. Then he’d take his seat in the House of Lords, and some other eager son would find his way into Aaron’s vacated seat. The man appeared to love the work—had been an avid student of history since he was in leading strings—and worked tirelessly on the nation’s interests. It was a bloody crime that he couldn’t have a clean glass in his own household.

  Meanwhile, Jackson got tired of tweaking their political friend. “Forget him, where have you been?”

  “War, then another war, and now back.”

  “Yes, but when? Everyone else came back years ago.”

  “We still have an army,” Aaron cut in. “He’s probably been serving—”

  “No, I haven’t,” Lucas interrupted. He didn’t want to go into details. “I sold out after Waterloo.”

  “What!”

  “But that was two years ago!”

  Lucas nodded. He knew. “It took me a while to come back.”

  “Two years?”

  “I…” He shrugged. “I have been waiting until my hand is better before making an appearance.” He held up his maimed hand. He normally wore a dark glove over it, but because they were his friends, he pulled it off. The damage wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He still had a hand and, for that matter, his life. The thumb and forefinger worked just fine, but the last three fingers were knobby and cramped. His fingers and palm were thick with scars, and the whole thing looked hideous.

  Jackson studied the hand with pursed lips. “I’ve seen worse. Your ugly face, for one, though I’ll admit the scar through your hair, is dashing. Aaron, do you think there’s cheese and bread in your larder? I’ve missed supper.”

  Jackson always missed supper because his ancestral lands were impoverished, and he only ate when attending a ball or because of the generosity of his friends. Normally Lucas would counsel the man to marry an heiress, but Jackson was both canny and unflinching when it came to hard work. He would bet everything that Jackson had a clever plan to restore his ancestral lands. One that did not include charming an heiress.

  Meanwhile, Aaron gave a disinterested wave toward the kitchen. “Take whatever you can find.”

  “Thanks, mate,” said Jackson as he disappeared down the hall. Meanwhile, Aaron focused on Lucas.

  “Your mother thinks you are dead.”

  “Yes, I know—”

  “Your father and brother as well.”

  “Yes—”

  “And my sister plus—”

  “Yes! I know!”

  Aaron blew out a breath. “Where have you been hiding?”

  Lucas looked down. “I’m known as Titan at the Lyon’s Den.”

  “The gaming hell? The one where—”

  “Yes, yes, Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s reputation is salacious, but she runs a clean establishment with fair wages. She employs veterans to keep an eye on things, and I supervise them. It’s good work with good people, and I have no quarrel with it.”

  Aaron frowned. “Well, I do. The future Earl of Wolvesmead should not be running tables in a den.” He refilled his brandy glass, but his gaze never left Lucas’s. “What’s really going on?”

  How to answer that? Especially since he had no clear understanding of it himself. “You know my family.” Most specifically, his mother, who never tolerated anything that was less than perfect. Perfect attire, perfect manners, perfect appearance in every way. She would be horrified by his hand. “I didn’t want to see them until after I had found my bearings.”

  “That answers for a few weeks or even a couple of months. But Lucas—years? Your brother expects to inherit!”

  He blew out a breath, then forced himself to speak the truth. “Aaron, I’m an heir who went to war.” He looked up. “They wanted me to die.” At least his mother had.

  Aaron shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Your father was ever kind.”

  If total disinterest could be labeled kindness.

  Then Jackson spoke up as he came back to the parlor laden down with cheese, bread, and a few old apples. “It doesn’t matter why he’s been gone, he’s back now, and we should celebrate.” He grinned at Lucas. “What did you have in mind?”

  Trust Jackson to cut straight to what must happen now. The man always knew how to ignore the past, even when it was all everyone else could think about. “I need you to throw a masquerade.”

  “Whatever for?” Aaron said, his face twisted into a grimace. “Fancy dress and ridiculous masks. It’s just an excuse for the worst sort of behavior.”

  Jackson grinned. “A capital idea!”

  “Nothing too flamboyant. I’ve rented out all of Vauxhall. That will make it an exclusive sort of thing.”

  “Nothing at Vauxhall could ever be exclusive.”

  He nodded. That was true enough, but that was what Diana wanted, and so that was what she would get. And he would make sure that security was tight enough that she was safe. “It’s set for Wednesday in three weeks.” Thank God the owner of Vauxhall played too deep one night, and Lucas had managed to win his exclusive night. Otherwise, he’d never have been able to m
anage it.

  “That’s fast,” Jackson said. “You have to give the ladies enough time to get their costumes made.”

  “It will be a party given by the Lords of the Masquerade.” He pointed at Aaron. “You’ll be Lord Ares.” Aaron had studied every war in detail, and so the name fit. “Lord Satyr for you,” he said to Jackson. The man was a dangerous flirt, and so he would embrace the moniker as if born to it.

  “A masquerade just encourages all sorts of knavery,” Aaron said.

  “I have men to keep the grounds safe.”

  Aaron arched his brows. “Thieves are not the only danger. It’ll be a hunting ground for fortune hunters and reprobates.”

  “You mean me,” Jackson said.

  “No, I don’t,” Aaron snapped. “You have scruples. And some mysterious business plan…” He trailed off to give Jackson a chance to fill in the blank. Instead, the man put on a too-innocent expression.

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  Aaron snorted. “In any event, you won’t hurt a woman. But others will trap young ladies on the dark paths, ravish them quickly, and—”

  “I will have security!” Lucas repeated with enough force to show his impatience with the whole discussion. “And once again, you fail to give any respect to the intelligence of the fairer sex. They are too smart to be so easily led astray.” At least that had been true of the vipers he saw in the ladies’ half of the Lyon’s Den. Every one of them was more likely to trap an unwary man than the other way around.

  “You’re both right,” Jackson said in a grumbly voice. “There are plenty of female twits in society. And plenty of women with sense.

  “Don’t invite the twits,” Lucas said. “Would that be acceptable to your high moral standard?”