All this evasion was getting them nowhere. He needed more facts. He decided to start at the simplest place. “We need more honesty between us.”
All remnants of her smile faded entirely.
There was so much he must tell her. That he knew she was a woman in need. That he understood the powers of circumstance and bad luck, of their ability to bend one to their will and strip one of choice. That he understood this because he’d been through that particular gauntlet. That he didn’t want to see her life ruined because Montfort had caught her between his teeth. That he didn’t only want to tup her and himself into sweet oblivion, that he wanted to protect her, too.
“If it isn’t Lord and Lady Percival,” Percy heard at his back. Isabel’s eyes widened on a point over his shoulder.
Percy pivoted, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Montfort.”
Slightly out of breath, the man stopped before them. “By the by, Bretagne, I neglected to commend you on your return to good health. You were looking rather dead to the world when last I saw you.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Percy said, seething with rage and futility. “I would think you know that better than most.”
Percy glanced at Isabel and took in her guarded gaze. His hackles rose.
Deathly fear shone from her eyes. What had the man done to her?
It was all Percy could do not to grab Montfort by the neck and squeeze until all the life had drained out of him. He should have done it years ago. How many more lives had the man destroyed since then?
“I believe . . .” Isabel swallowed. “I believe I shall join the other ladies.”
She fled as if the devil was at her back. He was.
Alone with Montfort, Percy cut right to it. “What’s your game?”
“Game?” Montfort had the audacity to chuckle. “Haven’t you heard? I’m out of the game, have been for almost two years. Don’t you think the life of a country gentleman suits me?”
Percy snorted. “What’s your business with Isabel?”
Montfort gave his familiar smile, the one of an adult indulging a child, secure in the knowledge the child would eventually wear himself out. “Speaking of business, there is a bit I must discuss with you. Tiny Tim’s? Pizzy’s Pleasure Palace? Tsk, tsk.”
“Aye.” Percy wouldn’t deny it.
“You reached a hair too far with Number 9. It won’t stand.”
“I never thought it would.”
All the false jollity faded from Montfort’s visage. Left in its place was the cool, dead stare of a spider.
Montfort was coming for him.Good.Let him. This was exactly what Percy had been aiming for these last few months, to draw Montfort out. To make him strike.
But revenge was no longer his only goal.
Percy squared up to Montfort, who didn’t flinch. The man’s connections within the halls of power had made him untouchable for so long that he believed himself permanently so. “Listen to me and listen closely. Isabel is someone I—”
“Love, is it?”
“—Someone under my protection,” Percy finished, not a little shaken by what he’d almost said. “You will not use her the way you used me.”
“Now, Percy, your situation was altogether different. And, if you’re honest with yourself, you know that our time together was the making of you into a man.”
A swell of rage surged inside Percy. He curled it into a tight ball in his gut, even as it clamored for release. “If any harm comes to her, I shall find you, and I shall end you.”
“Such dramatics. All I want for Isabel is the safety of her and her dear, beloved family.”
Lies.
Montfort’s mouth curved up into the patronizing smile that never managed to reach his eyes. “I’ve always valued that about you, Bretagne. Your tenacity.”
