Lord Lucifer Page 9

  Diana took a step closer and grimaced.

  Geoffrey lounged against the fireplace with an arrogant smirk. “Home at last?”

  The bastard! Three words, but his attitude implied that she spent all her time at parties and masquerades while her husband lay dying. It wasn’t true, and he knew it. But she’d long since learned not to rise to taunts of any kind.

  “It’s late, Geoffrey. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to visit my father at a time when I knew you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Because she’d be lying dead in a ditch?” Lucas asked, his voice low with threat. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Lying in a ditch? Whyever would you say that?” Then the man smiled. “I assumed her dishabille was because she’d been cavorting in a ditch with you.”

  She heard Simpson gasp in shock behind her. Nathan, too, no doubt appalled by the despicable insinuation. Diana didn’t even roll her eyes as she stripped off her muddy gloves. She’d heard worse things from Geoffrey, and by comparison, this was mild. Except for this time, she heard something underneath his tone. Disappointment, perhaps?

  “Did you do it?” she asked, gratified to hear that her voice didn’t shake. “Did you hire people to kill me?” Good God, the words surprised her even as she said them.

  Again, her butler gasped, but her gaze was trained on Geoffrey. She needed to see his reaction for herself. He didn’t disappoint her.

  His lips curved into an echo of a smile as he looked at her. “Would that I had. Indeed, I’d likely give the thieves a guinea for doing me such a favor. But alas, no, I did not. I came here directly from Vauxhall to speak with my father.” His eyes narrowed murderously on Simpson. “But it seems I am not even allowed that in this household. You truly have everyone wrapped around your despicable finger.”

  “What is all this unseemly commotion?” a voice interrupted. Diana sighed. It was her mother. She’d asked the woman to sit with Oscar this evening so she could have an evening free, and now that indulgence was coming home to roost as her mother gave her a disappointed frown. “Diana, what have you been doing? You look as if you’ve been in a barn.”

  Fortunately, she’d learned to outwardly ignore her mother’s jabs. They still stung, but she didn’t allow that to show. “Hello, Mama. Is Oscar all right?”

  “The noise woke him. I ordered some of that tea he likes and came down to see what all the fuss is about.”

  “It’s about me,” Geoffrey said. “I am my father’s heir, and yet I have been refused into his presence.”

  “Well, of course, you were. He was sleeping.” Diana’s mother lifted her chin for her most disapproving look. “Come back at a decent hour, and I am sure you will be admitted.”

  Diana wasn’t so sure. Geoffrey always managed to upset his father. “So, he’s alone?” she asked as she turned to go upstairs. She tried to keep someone with him at all times, just in case.

  “There’s a footman with him. The one who brought the tea,” her mother said with a dismissive wave. “And you shouldn’t see anyone in that state. There’s mud all over your skirt.” She shook her head. “I’ve told you that Vauxhall is no place for any decent woman.”

  “Then it is perfect for her,” Geoffrey sneered.

  Diana’s mother curled her lip. “You are being repulsive. I insist you leave immediately.”

  As if that had ever made a difference to Geoffrey. And yet, he bent in a deep and mocking bow. “As you wish, my lady.” Then he turned to Diana with a clear smirk of triumph. “I will see you in the morning, stepmama.” He sneered the last word, infusing all the insult he could into every syllable. He wormed his way through the room, past Lucas and Nathan, who bristled with every breath. Simpson had his hat ready, and Geoffrey grabbed it with a grin. And then he plopped it on his head and left, whistling a merry tune.

  “He’s planning something,” Nathan said the moment the front door shut behind him.

  “No,” Lucas said. “He’s already done something.” His gaze cut to the waiting footman. “I want every room, every window checked for something out of place. And Diana—”

  She was already on the way upstairs to check on Oscar. She found him sitting up in his bed and drinking his favorite tea. She had it made special for him from a tin kept solely for his use in the kitchen. Her breath eased out the moment she saw him smile at her, and she barely noticed when the footman bowed and bid a hasty retreat. Few people liked being in a sickroom, and so she tried to keep the staff in here to a minimum.

  “Oscar,” she said as she came close. “How are you feeling?”

  “Very well, very well indeed,” her husband said. “Well enough to take you dancing very soon, I should expect.”

  “I shall look forward to it,” she said. He always promised that, as he was always hopeful of a recovery. Meanwhile, she settled onto the chair by the bed and carefully arranged her skirts so the worst of the mud wouldn’t show. Oscar wouldn’t likely notice, but she did try to appear neat before him. “Did you have a nice time with my mother?”

  “She’s a chatty thing, isn’t she?”

  “Always.”

  “All sorts of advice on how to get the better of this damned illness.”

  “I can imagine.” Her mother did love to give advice.

  “I think she mucked about with my tea,” he said as he set his empty cup aside. “It tastes sweet.”

  Diana frowned. “She shouldn’t be allowed to do that.”

  “Never mind. It’s not so bad. You can tell her I drank it all,” he said as he showed her his empty cup. “But throw it out, will you? And get me my usual mix.”

  “Of course.”

  He settled back against the pillows. “Actually, we talked about your father. Reminisced, as it were.” He paused as he coughed but soon regained his breath. “I miss him, you know. We were boys together at school, and he had the kind of charm that got him the best treats from the cook.”

  Diana nodded as she eased into her seat. Oscar often talked about her father. She had heard his stories about their schoolroom antics a thousand times. It seemed to calm him, and she could let her mind wander as he spoke. Usually, that was a happy time for her, but tonight she flashed back to the attack. She heard in her head the smack of Lucas’s fist as he slapped the knife away and his grunt as he was punched in return.

  Those memories returned with every breath, and the more she tried to focus on something else, the more insistent the details became. She couldn’t inhale without smelling her attacker again, and she scratched at where the man’s hand had gripped her arm.

  “Are you listening, Diana?”

  “What?” She jerked her attention back to her husband. “I am so sorry. I’m afraid it’s been a long day for me.”

  “A happy one, I should think. You’ve been looking forward to that masquerade for weeks now.”

  “Um, yes.” No point in telling him the truth. It would only upset them both. “Are you feeling all right, Oscar? You seem a little pale.”

  “My stomach seems a bit tetchy. Whatever your mother put in my tea, no doubt. I think I’ll have some laudanum tonight. Enough to get me back to sleep.” His eyes already appeared somewhat unfocused, but that could be her own exhaustion.

  “If you’d like,” she said as she poured him a full measure. If nothing else, she needed a night’s rest. She needed to make a decision about Geoffrey, especially if he intended to visit in the morning. Did she bar the door to him? Did she tell her husband about her suspicions? He wouldn’t believe that his own son would try to murder her, but didn’t he deserve to know the truth? Not tonight, obviously. She was too unsettled to speak rationally, and he needed his rest. But she had to tell him in the morning. He had to know that he could be in danger from his own son.

  “There,” he said as he swallowed down the laudanum. “Now go get cleaned up. There’s dirt on your chin that makes you look like a naughty child.”

  Her hand went to her face, and he chuckled as he pulled his c
overs up. She waited a moment until his eyes had closed, then she slipped out of his bedroom to head for her own toilet. Both her mother and husband delighted in treating her as if she were still in leading-strings when that was so far from the truth as to be laughable. But every time she tried to assert her independence, they chuckled and referred to any of a dozen tiny infractions.

  She could hear their conversation now. “Remember when you appeared before company with mud on your skirts and face? Why that was just yesterday!” It was irritating, and she was furious that she had appeared so before them. Never mind that no one had asked why she looked as such. Likely they’d not believe there had been a knife at her throat, a ruffian choking off her breath, and Lucas the one who kept her alive through it all.

  She stepped into the hallway only to be met by her entire family, hovering outside Oscar’s room. It was mortifying to see them all there, each looking awkward or anxious or furious, depending on their wont. Fortunately, Lilah came forward first.

  “We came as soon as we could. What do you need from us?”

  “Nothing,” she said. She wanted silence, not hovering.

  “You cannot want us to leave at a time like this,” her mother huffed. “I am your mother—”

  “Stop, Mama. Please go home.” Her words came out as an agonized whisper. Thankfully, Lilah understood exactly what she wanted.

  “We’ll take Mama home,” Lilah said. “Try to get some rest, if you can, and send a messenger if you need anything.”

  “Thank you,” Diana answered, truly grateful. The only person she wanted to see was Lucas, and he wasn’t currently in the hallway staring anxiously at her.

  Lilah began chiding her family back down the hall. Her brother hung back, though, his expression dark. “I’ll speak with Lucas before I go.”

  Diana wanted to speak with Lucas, not have her brother acting on her behalf. But she had no wish to have that argument now, so she held her tongue.

  “I need to get Amber home, but then I’ll—”

  “You’ll stay with her, Elliott. Keep her safe.”

  His eyes shot wide. “You don’t think there’s any danger to—”

  “No, no!” she rushed to say. “I just…” She wanted someone big and strong to rush to her side tonight, to hold her steady when she thought she might shatter. “Be with your wife. I’ll be with…Oscar.” Her husband’s name felt heavy in her mouth. He had never been a comfort to her.

  “Very well,” Elliott said, his voice crisp. “If you need anything—”

  “I’ll send a messenger,” she agreed. Then she watched as he reluctantly left her side.

  Finally, she slipped into her bedroom, where her maid waited. She was quick to clean her face, then strip out of her gown. “Give it away,” she said when the woman tsked over the state of her skirt. “Burn it if no one wants it.”

  She knew that someone would take it. The fabric was still good. It only wanted a thorough cleaning, but she could not see it without remembering. She would have it gone from her sight. She had just changed into her dressing gown when the knock came. She already knew it was Lucas. No one else would come to her now. Fortunately, her attire was respectable enough, serviceable for sleep but also enough coverage in case she spent the night in the chair by her husband’s side.

  “Enter,” she said.

  He opened the door but did not come in beyond a single step. It was because her maid was still in the room as she brushed out Diana’s hair. Lucas was no doubt maintaining his respectful distance as her servant. It was logical, but that did not stop the wave of yearning that buried her the moment she set eyes on him. He’d discarded his Lucifer costume in favor of simple black pants and shirt, and somehow that made him look even more dashing. There was a shadow on his face, whether from a bruise or the beginnings of his beard, she couldn’t tell. But she saw the hard cut of his jaw, the barely leashed fury in his expression, and—most seductive of all—the way his gaze took in every aspect of her appearance as if reassuring himself that she was whole.

  “Mr. Lucifer,” she said. Then she grimaced. “You really must choose another name.”

  “I have checked the house and can find nothing amiss.”

  She could tell by his narrowed brow that he didn’t like that. They both knew Geoffrey was up to something, but neither could guess what. “I’m sure we will find out by morning,” she said, her voice weary. “I should check downstairs. You might not know if something was amiss.”

  “The cook would. She has seen nothing. And Simpson made the rounds with me. He saw nothing.”

  “Perhaps it was only Geoffrey making his usual threats. He delights in making me question everything. He would no doubt laugh that we have searched the house from top to bottom when he did no more than cool his heels in the parlor.”

  “He had you attacked.” Fury burned through his words, and she could see his need to fight for her. It tightened his hands into fists, stiffened the muscles in his entire body, and made him look all the more like the devil with every breath. And yet, as she looked at him, she never felt safer.

  It was enough to make her eyes water with gratitude. No one but Lucas had ever leaped to her defense. It didn’t matter that twelve years ago his attempt had been fruitless. He had tried. And tonight, he had saved her. That made her breath stutter inside her as she ached to be in his arms. She needed the comfort of his touch and the safety it brought as well.

  “Thank you, Tina,” she said as she pulled the brush from her maid’s hand. “Go rest now. It will be a long day tomorrow.” It was always a long day in this household as they cared for Oscar.

  “Yes, m’lady,” Tina said as she curtseyed.

  “Oh, and please tell Mrs. Hopkins to throw out his lordship’s tea. It’s gone off somehow. I will order more in the morning.”

  Her maid nodded and departed, leaving her alone with Lucas. Finally.

  He stood awkwardly just in front of the door, his expression tight, and his gaze unsettled. When he spoke, he kept his words low, but they seemed to fill the room, nonetheless.

  “I’ll be sleeping just outside your door tonight. I’ll know if anything happens.”

  “What? In the hall?”

  “Yes.” And from his tone, there would be no arguing with him.

  “You really think—”

  “Yes, Diana. I really do.”

  She bit her lip and gripped her hands together to keep them from trembling. “I suppose we should call the constable then. Tell him about… About…” She didn’t want to think about the attack, much less speak of it.

  “Yes. I sent Nathan to make the initial report. I expect the constable will be here first thing in the morning.”

  Of course, he had. While she’d been listening to Oscar’s rambles, he’d been protecting the house, searching for answers, and proceeding with the next steps even without her thinking of them. How wonderful to have someone who thought ahead, who acted intelligently on her behalf, and who now remained nearby just in case.

  Normally, she’d bristle at such impertinence. She was the mistress of the house. She should have ordered these things. She should have thought of them. But right then, she could feel nothing but gratitude. He was here. He was helping her. And finally, she had someone who could shoulder some of the burdens for her.

  It was a miracle, and if she hadn’t been sitting down, her knees would likely have given out from her own silly weakness.

  “Diana!”

  He was across the room in a second, squatting down before her, even as he put one hand on her neck.

  “Do you feel faint?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

  She knew he meant to shove her head between her knees again, but she shook her head. “No,” she said quickly. “No, that’s not it.”

  “Then what?” His hand relaxed on her neck to slide down her arm. In a moment, he was gripping her hand. “Tell me.” It was as much an order and a plea, but how could she put it into words? How could she express any of the feelings insi
de her? Fear, gratitude, relief, and need—all that and more churned inside her with no true outlet. Except for one.

  “Hold me,” she whispered. “Please.” She put everything she felt into that last word. Then she waited to see if he would fail her or be exactly what she needed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucas was in a dark place. It was a military state of mind where he assumed every shadow held an enemy, and every sound was a predator. His mind was quick, and his muscles were ready to erupt into violence at a moment’s notice. This was how he’d stayed alive during the war.

  Civilians did not understand this place where he was as sharp as the knife he wielded. And they certainly couldn’t comprehend the danger they were in from the simplest human interaction. A hand extended in friendship would be seen as an attack. A smile was a lie to cover betrayal. And even the scent of a woman was a misty fog that concealed danger.

  And an embrace—well, that wasn’t simple under normal circumstances.

  He hadn’t come to Diana’s bedroom to report. It was a ruse. He didn’t see her as a commanding officer, but he knew the value of doing something innocuous in order to protect what was most valuable. But never during his entire military career had anyone asked for an embrace. Never had he been in this place in his mind and yet assaulted by the softness of a woman’s plea or the scent of her body.

  She looked up at him. “Please,” she said. And he knew what that request cost her. She’d fought so long to be a woman in control. To ask for his embrace now meant she was in desperate need.

  He touched her arm, wrapping his larger hand around her slender forearm. He knelt before her, so close their bodies could be entwined. But all he could do was hold her arm because she was not part of his dark place. He could not touch her softness when he was this sharp. He could not have a woman so perfect when he was so ugly.

  And yet here she was, bowed before him in her pain. When she gripped his shoulders to pull herself up, he supported her without thinking. He could not let her fall, so he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her as they both stood together. He felt the soft press of her breasts. He felt her hand wrap around his neck as she pulled him down. He went because he could not refuse her.