Page 41 of The Allure Of Lord Devlin
“Not exactly. They were speaking in Gaelic, or so Philippa thinks. Perhaps the parchment your father hid in Rosemary’s music box is in Gaelic too.”
“Then how do you know it’s Longton who’s the traitor?”
“I don’t think I’m going to tell you. I want to enjoy the music and the feel of your arms about me. You can talk with Hawthorne about Longton. I’m supposed to be keeping out of the situation, remember?” She watched his beautiful jaw tighten and his lips part in almost a snarl, so she added, “Now, now, our audience is watching.”
He spun her as if he’d like to send her into the nether, nether. But she refused to tell him anything else. She relaxed in his hold and let the music wash away the complexity of their situation. She wondered where they would go from here. If he didn’t have to marry Fiona, and cleared his father of treason, would he open his heart and let her in? She knew she could not settle for anything less. She’d been very open with him about what she desired from a marriage. Perhaps once he’d cleared his family’s name, he could open that shuttered heart.
“What will you do when you clear your father?”
Her words startled him. “I’ve never let myself think that far ahead.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I actually don’t know. I’ve never really believed I’d find the evidence I need.”
“You could do anything you desire.”
His eyes flicked to her mouth, her bosom, and then her eyes. “You’re right. I could go after who and what I desire.”
She sucked in a breath. He wanted her. The heat in his eyes burned down to her inner core. But want and desire were not love. She desired his heart, but he kept it safely enclosed in his chest, as he had been hurt once before. She would show him the risk was worth taking.
They just had to apprehend Longton so that they could take their time to get to know one another, without the stress of his family’s treason hanging over him.
* * *
Impatience wasn’t his worst vice, but right now Devlin knew abandoning patience could destroy any chance of keeping his enemies in the dark as to the fact that he was on to them. So he spent time with Fiona and his mother in the drawing room of his townhouse after the ball. He had to hold his knee to stop it from jiggling.
Finally, his mother, who was obviously waiting for Fiona to declare her intention to retire to bed, was too tired to wait further.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll retire.” As she rose, she purposely looked toward Fiona with an eyebrow raised. His mother didn’t wish to leave her alone with him. Very wise. He expected he’d have to fight off a seduction. Fiona ignored his mother’s subtle suggestion. His mother could not hide her sigh as she exited the room.
One, two, three,…“I thought your mother would never leave,” Fiona said as she rose and came to kneel at his feet, running her hands up his thighs. Now, rather than jiggle, he had to stop his legs from tensing in revulsion.
“That’s probably why she stayed up so late. Mother feels it’s not appropriate for us to be alone together this late, even if you are a widow.”
Her hands halted their journey, but did not leave his thighs, and her eyes flashed with anger. “But I’m more than a widow. I’m your betrothed.”
“My mother is a tad old-fashioned.” Before Fiona could grow suspicious, he pulled her up and onto his lap. She almost purred like the cat who’d swallowed the cream. He had to put a stop to this before he lost the copious amount of brandy he’d drunk.
She snuggled into his chest. “Since we are now betrothed, it behooves me to clear the name I will take. While you were out this afternoon, I found something in my husband’s journals. There is a mention of a person named DubhGhaill. I believe that’s Gaelic for Doyle. Does that name mean anything to you?”
There was a Lord Doyle in the war cabinet with his father, but the man was dead. How convenient to use Doyle to keep Devlin away from investigating Longton. A dead man could not protest his innocence. There was no way Devlin would let another innocent family suffer. Longton had to answer for his crime. But he would play her game.
He pushed her off his chest and looked into her face. “There was a Lord Doyle in the war cabinet.” Feigning excitement, he hugged her tightly. “This could be the breakthrough we are looking for.”
He stood with her in his arms and carried her upstairs. She thought he was taking her to bed, and he was, but she would be alone. He’d organized for his butler, Mr. Tyler, to interrupt his journey.
In time, Devlin heard a throat clear. He acted as if he’d been on the stage all his life. “What is it, Mr. Tyler?” annoyance in every stilted note.
“An urgent message from His Grace. There has been an accident at the mine.”
He slowly lowered Fiona to stand on her feet and hugged her tight. “Damn it. I’ll go at once.” Without a backward glance, he took off down the stairs. Not caring what Fiona thought.
* * *
The shadows from the fire danced over the walls of His Grace’s library as Devlin told how he’d escaped Fiona’s clutches. “I’ll have to do a release about an accident at the mine.” Sin said.
Devlin settled into the chair by the fire. “I hadn’t considered the aftermath of my deception, but she could get suspicious if you didn’t.” He accepted the drink Sin handed him.
“Longton is a formidable enemy. I’d rather not take any chances. It will take some time to get a man to Cornwall in order to ascertain the details of the accident, if Longton even bothers, and we should have him by then.”
“God, I hope so.” Devlin could hardly believe his goal was within his reach.
