Page 38 of In Pursuit of a Christmas Bride
Mr. Haskett cursed under his breath, glaring at Henry. “She’s nothing but another Irish whore?—”
Henry’s vision faded to black, and he was sure he was about to knock Mr. Haskett out before he realized Stephen was holding him back.
The duke headed to the door and called out softly into the hallway. Two tall footmen entered. “They will see you loaded into the carriage, and Greenwald will be riding along with you. If anything happens to Greenwald, you better consider throwing yourself into the Thames because I won’t stop until I see justice served.”
After they left, Henry stood there with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He gathered he wasn’t much older than the duke, yet it felt as if he had been called into the school master’s office once again.
“Embezzlement?”
“The arse is one of the most crooked men in London. And I have proof.”
“Very well.”
“Devlin?”
Henry shrugged. He hated the name. It didn’t fit him, but he didn’t have the option to grow into it now. He was the Earl Devlin, and he had just dragged himself into a scandal with Tilly because he couldn’t control his temper.
It had never happened before.
But he had never been in love with Tilly before.
“He may have broken her damn nose. I apologize for losing my head. It is completely out of character for me. I am sorry for the imposition.”
“Stop.” The duke walked over to his sideboard and poured two glasses of scotch. He handed one to Henry. “Well done.” He waited a minute, looking out into the room before he leaned back against his desk and crossed his ankles. “My father treated my mother that way, and on the bad nights, me as well. I vowed never to tolerate it as I grew older.”
Henry silently sipped the scotch. The liquid burned the cut by his lip. “I need to marry her now,” he whispered finally.
The duke set his glass down on his desk. “Yes. That is what is required of us, those of us with honor anyhow. I don’t know you very well, but Stephen promised me you are an excellent barrister. And I could use some advice.”
“I’m not sure…”
“Even dukes find trouble, especially those of us who had a bit of a wild streak before the old man died.”
“It’s a complicated matter. One that might require another visit now that I will help coordinate your wedding.”
The office door opened, and Tilly was led back inside. Her face had been roughly washed up, but there was still blood dried by her nose. Everything within him ached to hold her, to ensure nothing like that would happen again, but there would be time for that.
“Mr. Haskett is presently being escorted back to London where he will be assisted in leaving the city. I now own the theater. And I will be facilitating your wedding to Lord Devlin, Miss Brennan.”
Tilly’s eyes widened in shock. “No, can’t we somehow keep it quiet? I can’t marry the earl.”
Henry’s heart sank. He downed the rest of his scotch and set it on the desk, straightening. “I realize this is not ideal, but it is the best way I can protect you.”
“No, you don’t understand. Even if we marry, Roger has a secret that can destroy me and my entire family. And I will not see you involved. I never wished… I only needed a moment’s escape. I didn’t mean for everyone to become involved. But now that he has been embarrassed, Roger will see that I won’t act in London again.”
“We can help,” the duke said. “If you can trust us, tell us the secret, we will ensure that no harm comes of it.”
Tilly braced her hands on her stomach, shaking her head. “I can’t… I mean, I have never once confessed it. It’s much too risky. Roger only knows because he overheard me speaking with my sister, and he has been blackmailing me for months now.”
Henry approached Tilly, grabbing her hands in his. He bent down and whispered, “Tell us, Tilly. Let me keep you safe.”
She glanced up, tears in her eyes. “You will hate me.”
He shook his head. “Not possible.”
“I vow never to speak of it to a soul, Miss Brennan,” the duke said from behind him.
“I have a son.”
