Lord Lucifer Page 8

  “You wear it much better.”

  “The hell I do,” his brother spat.

  What happened next came by luck, not because he’d been paying enough attention. He heard a rustle in the shrubbery and a muffled grunt. If he hadn’t been arguing with his brother, he would never have allowed Diana to stand so far apart from him or so near the shadows. The noise was all that alerted him, and even so, he was too slow.

  A hand came out of the shrubbery and grabbed Diana. She gasped in surprise as she was jerked back, but another hand covered her mouth, and any noise she made was muffled. Didn’t matter. Lucas was already leaping forward, knocking the bastard back—two bastards. No, three, all stepping out of the shadows. He tried to pull Diana sideways toward his brother. It didn’t work. She was held too fast. Worse, he saw the glint of a blade in the lamplight. He was about to stab Diana!

  He tried to knock the blade aside, but he already knew he was too late. Almost at the same instant, he saw a coin flash almost as bright as the blade. Nathan had thrown it, his accuracy uncanny ever since he’d learned the trick as a boy. It zipped past Lucas’s vision to land square in the attacker’s eye. The blackguard cried out and recoiled, which gave Lucas the time he needed.

  He knocked the blade aside, then grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted hard. It was enough to free Diana, especially as she slammed her elbow into the bastard’s chest before dropping down below the grip of his arms.

  She was on the ground, rolling to safety. That gave room for Lucas to release his full fury. Even with a damaged hand, he was a fast fighter. Whatever power was lost because of his mangled hand was made up for in speed. He moved quickly as he steadily pummeled the man. And as Nathan took on one of the blighters, Lucas managed to handle the other two. He fought as he had been taught—with hands, feet, and any other weapon that could be brought to bear. In this case, he made sure one tripped over a tree root, and the other got tangled in the shrubbery. Not to mention the steady pelting of sticks and pebbles that Diana threw at their faces.

  It was over quickly. The moment the brutes realized they faced true opponents and not a frightened woman, they scrambled back into the bushes and away. Lucas meant to go after them, but he checked the impulse. His first priority was Diana. He spun around to see her launching two clods of dirt with impressive speed. He even heard the grunt of one of the attackers as her missile landed. But then she stopped, her breath coming in quick gasps as she looked around.

  “Is that all? Are there more?” she asked.

  Nathan hadn’t stopped when Lucas turned back for Diana. They could hear him now crashing through the underbrush. But a moment later, he returned with a grim expression.

  “They’re gone,” he said. “There’s a path that leads back to the river.”

  Lucas had already guessed as much. Meanwhile, he scanned Diana from head to toe. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  She slapped her hands together to brush off the dirt. “Only my pride. I had heard that Vauxhall could be dangerous, but I never thought—”

  “That was no common footpad, Diana,” he said as the reality of what had nearly happened sank like ice into his bones. “That was someone hired to murder you.”

  Her head jerked up in shock. “Don’t be ridiculous. A common thief—”

  “Would have cut your purse,” Nathan said, his voice grave. “But that knife…” He stopped speaking as his gaze cut to his brother’s. “I thought you were exaggerating. I thought…” His gaze hopped to Diana and back with a guilty shrug. “I am sorry I doubted your motives.”

  His brother thought he’d created a danger so that he could seduce a beautiful woman. Well, obviously, his brother thought him a cad. “The danger is real,” he said grimly. And he damned himself for thinking her safe once Geoffrey had left the gardens. The man had obviously hired common thugs to kill her just as he’d threatened before he’d left. “Come quickly, Diana. We need to get you to someplace safe.”

  Nathan’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the shadows. “You think they will return?”

  “Of course not,” Diana said, though her voice trembled.

  “I don’t know,” Lucas said as he began walking Diana quickly back to the main path. His brother went to her other side, a large bulwark of defense.

  “Lucas…” she began, but her voice trailed away as he pushed their speed. Then she caught her breath. “You don’t really think that, do you? That…” Apparently, she couldn’t even voice the possibility.

  Lucas shot her a grim look. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do.” Whatever she was thinking, whatever she meant, he considered it possible. And a real threat.

  At that moment, he redoubled his focus, he tripled his determination, and he swore to all that he held holy that he would not fail to protect her. Even if it meant locking her away until he saw Geoffrey dead.

  Chapter Ten

  Diana wasn’t a fool. She’d felt the man’s rough hands on her, smelled his rank sweat, and—worst of all—seen the blade as it skittered away thanks to Lucas’s fast fist. But, at the moment, she’d focused exclusively on getting away and then clobbering her attackers from a distance. She was a good throw, and those stones had distracted them a little, she thought. However, she knew that Lucas and his brother were the real heroes. She’d merely survived.

  But as the immediacy of the fight wore off, as the two men braced her from either side and walked her quickly back to the well-lit center of Vauxhall, panic began to claw its way into her thoughts. Had she truly been attacked? Had she nearly died but for Lucas’s lightning-fast reflexes?

  She brushed at her arm, where it throbbed. She could still feel the hard grip of the man as he’d jerked her toward him.

  It wasn’t possible, and yet, it had happened. That was terrifying enough, but the idea that someone she knew wanted her murdered—even someone as difficult as Geoffrey—was too far for her to go. Geoffrey might threaten, but he’d never actually do it…right? The attackers had been simple footpads. Dangerous, naturally, but the danger was over. They’d been frightened away, and Diana was safe again.

  Anything else was simply too terrifying to contemplate.

  Then memory burst into her thoughts despite how desperately she tried to bury it. She saw the flash of the knife above her. It burst into her thoughts no matter how many times she repeated to herself that Geoffrey was a petulant child, not a murderer.

  Meanwhile, Lucas whisked her through Vauxhall. She saw people point at him and belatedly realized he had not put his mask back on. More than one tried to stop them, but Lucas would have none of it, except when he stopped long enough to leave a message for her brother, Elliott.

  While they paused, she failed to suppress a cough. It was a silly thing. Just a need to release the feeling of a hand over her mouth, but it was hard to catch her breath. She forced herself to slow down, to inhale with dignity, and exhale with poise. By the time Lucas was done with the servant, Diana had regained her breath.

  “We can use my carriage,” Nathan said. “I told my man to wait close because I wouldn’t be long.”

  Lucas responded with a clipped nod.

  “Don’t be silly,” Diana said. Or at least she tried to. Her words came out as an unintelligible squeak. She had to clear her throat while Lucas’s gaze riveted on her. She smiled reassuringly at him, but she didn’t think it worked. His expression grew even grimmer as he shook his head.

  “Don’t try to speak,” he told her. “Wait until we are in the carriage.”

  That defeated the purpose, she thought, since she’d meant to tell him that there was no need to upset his brother’s plans. And then she felt an irrational giggle bubble up. She strangled it with an awkward kind of choke, and all she could think was that this was certainly humiliating. Having two men muscle her through a party and out the Vauxhall gates, as if she were threatened royalty. Her mother would say she was making too much of herself for all that she tried to slow them down.

  She knew—in a distant kind of w
ay—that her thoughts were circling. Every time she felt pressure on her mouth or saw a flash of light such as what had been reflected on the blade, her mind spun out in bizarre directions focusing on something—anything—that wasn’t attempted murder. Someone’s costume had gone awry. Someone had failed to drink their lemonade. Someone laughed, and another soul gasped. These things filtered through her splintered consciousness until the moment Lucas handed her into Nathan’s dark carriage.

  She sat down quickly, Lucas at her side. Nathan had barely stepped into the interior before Lucas was pounding on the roof for them to leave. Nathan shut the door and dropped inelegantly in the seat across from them. Both men exhaled in relief as the steady clop of the horses’ hooves began. And though Diana desperately wanted to say something, all she seemed able to do was grab Lucas’s hand in a tight grip. He covered her hand with his other, but his gaze was on the window as he watched for she-didn’t-know-what out there.

  “This is ridiculous,” she finally said. “Completely ridiculous.” She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant. The dramatic carriage ride through London? The way her mind kept spinning forward and back? She kept feeling that man’s hand on her mouth as she tried to scream. And she kept focusing on Lucas by her side, his brother across from her, as both men stared out the windows with deep frowns.

  “Your safety is not ridiculous,” Lucas said.

  “I’m in no danger,” she retorted, and she so desperately wanted to believe it.

  He turned and looked at her, his expression grave. She wanted to flinch away. She didn’t want his steady regard forcing her to face something she didn’t want to believe. Not yet. Not until she could breathe without feeling that man’s hand on her face.

  “My lady,” Nathan said, his voice calm, “perhaps there is somewhere you could stay for a bit. Somewhere to rest and settle your nerves.”

  Diana’s temper ignited. “Do you know how many times men have said that to me? To sit down, be quiet, and steady my delicate nerves. You think because I am female, I have no logic? My husband hasn’t been well for months. I have had the running of the estate, and that task is considerable.”

  Nathan blinked, his expression contrite. “I meant no offense—”

  “Men never do,” she groused. “And yet, I am offended.”

  “No, you’re not,” Lucas cut in. “You’re just looking for a target because you are frightened. Aim your darts at me. My brother doesn’t deserve it.”

  Lucas didn’t deserve it either. She swallowed, and damn if she didn’t feel that grip on her face again. Hard, punishing, and smelling so foul that she felt her stomach revolt. No, no, no! She could not cast up her accounts here. That would be awful for everyone! She felt hot and sick and—

  Lucas abruptly shoved her head down between her knees. Her skirt muffled her breath, but he was quick to pull it up and out of the way. Her legs were exposed in the most undignified way, but no one seemed to care, especially not her as her breath came in stuttered gasps.

  “Just breathe, Diana. Breathe until it passes.”

  “I am. No weakling.” Her words came in gasping pants.

  “Never said you were,” Lucas answered.

  Then Nathan spoke. “Did you see the rocks she threw? Damned fine arm you have, my lady. Bloodied one of their noses.”

  “Truly?” Lucas asked. “I didn’t see.”

  “That’s what made him run. It was her shot that made him turn tail.”

  Nathan’s fists had certainly been a factor. Still, it made her feel better to hear his praise.

  “Did you see her last throw? Right at the back of the bastard’s head. Rang his bell quite properly. I’m sure he would have gone down if there hadn’t been a tree there propping him up.”

  “Impressive,” Lucas said, admiration in his tone. “I’d turned away.”

  To look to her safety. She remembered seeing him come for her just as she released her missile. He’d been at her side to protect her the moment his attacker ran off. And though Nathan had dashed after them, Lucas had stayed by her side. At the time, she’d merely been grateful he hadn’t been hurt. But now she realized how alone she would have felt if they’d both run off.

  It was enough to make her shudder.

  “Diana?”

  “I’m better now,” she said. “Please help me up.”

  After that first push to shove her down, he’d gentled his hold, supporting her as her stomach settled. Now he eased her upright, and she was grateful to realize that she did indeed feel better. Her temperature had come down, her heart rate, too. And most especially her temper.

  “Thank you,” she said. Then she looked at Nathan. “And my apologies. Your brother was right. I was lashing out to no purpose.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” Nathan said. “Think no more of it.”

  But she couldn’t stop thinking of it. The attack, the blade, the hand on her arm and face. She’d felt Geoffrey’s menace before, but she hadn’t actually believed herself in danger. Not until someone grabbed her arm. The memory made her lightheaded.

  Lucas’s grip tightened. “Do you feel sick again?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she lied as she adjusted her skirt down.

  “Your family will be with you soon. I left word for Elliott. I’m sure they will follow as soon as—”

  Diana held up her hand, and Lucas immediately quieted. “I don’t need my family.” She’d been going her own way for so long, the idea that they would suddenly descend now made her shrink into herself.

  “They will want to see you safe.”

  “I’ll send a message as soon as I am home.” And she would, but rather than focus on that, her mind skittered back to exactly where she didn’t want it to go. “I just cannot think that anyone would…” She couldn’t form the rest of the words. It was inconceivable that anyone would wish her dead. She wasn’t royalty or political or even deeply religious. Those were the people who were targeted for murder. “I’m just not that important!”

  “But you are,” Lucas countered. “To Geoffrey, you are the only thing standing between him and his inheritance.”

  “Really?” Nathan asked. “I would think that was Lord Dunnamore.” Then he answered his own question. “But if she is handling the purse, then that would stand to reason.”

  There was a moment’s silence when the two brothers exchanged a significant look. Diana didn’t understand it at first. She was still grappling with the shock of it all. But she was steadier now, and it only took a few more breaths before she realized what they were thinking.

  “So you think Geoffrey…” She still couldn’t say it.

  “I believe he hired those men, yes,” Lucas said.

  Not a surprise. He’d said as much. But the next step, the very horrid next thought, was that if Geoffrey had turned evil enough to attack her, then what would he do to Oscar? After all, she merely held up his quarterly income. As long as Oscar lived, Geoffrey could not inherit.

  She straightened with dawning horror. “We must get home immediately.”

  “We’re nearly there,” Lucas soothed.

  “I must see to my husband. He is bedridden. If someone were to—” Her words choked off, the memory of that hand over her mouth suffocating her. If someone were to do that to Oscar, he would have no strength to defend himself.

  “We’re nearly there,” Lucas repeated.

  She looked out the window and saw the truth. A few more streets and they should arrive. “It cannot be possible,” she said. “Geoffrey is spoiled. He’s not murderous.”

  Neither men responded, and she knew with a sick kind of dread that it was possible. In the past two years, she’d dealt with a tenant who was violent toward his family when drunk. Another who had gone into a jealous rage at his wife and her lover. But both of those men were violent when their passions overcame them. What Lucas suggested spoke to cold-blooded premeditation. That was a thing for lurid gothic novels, not real life.

  And yet, she couldn’t stop the cold dread
in the pit of her stomach. Why couldn’t the horses go faster?

  She sat in tense silence while staring out the window. She noted every passing house, every inch that brought her closer to home. And when the carriage stopped, she threw open the door. She would have run up the steps if Lucas hadn’t prevented her.

  “Steady, Diana. Let me be sure that no one waits in the dark here.”

  “What? Here?” She had put the danger in Vauxhall, not her front steps. Or upstairs with Oscar, not out here where everyone could see.

  “With me,” he said sternly, and his gaze brooked no argument.

  “I’ll lead,” Nathan said. Then he hopped out and scanned the shadows as he moved. Lucas went next, his gaze about him as he drew her tight to his side. Then all three of them rushed forward to the steps.

  Fortunately, her butler Simpson was just then throwing open the door. Safety beckoned from the bright lights within. But one look at the man’s face told her that something horrible had already happened inside.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What has happened?” Diana demanded as she crossed the threshold. Simpson barely had time to grab her cloak before she was heading toward the stairs. “Is it his breathing?” Oscar had been coughing lately. Weak rasps in his dry throat that made her wince every time it happened.

  “No, my lady,” Simpson answered. “His lordship is resting peacefully.”

  She exhaled in relief, stopping her forward movement with one foot on the stair. “Then what has happened?” she asked.

  Simpson didn’t answer beyond a gesture to the front parlor. Diana looked there, only now seeing that a burly footman stood at the door to the parlor, and both Lucas and Nathan were turning with grim expressions to what or who was inside.