She was capable, intelligent, and strong. She was also small and alone. He understood Nick’s ferocity regarding her, for the same ferocity now coursed through his veins.
Just now, he’d lied by omission. It was true he wanted to use his power and resources as a marquess of the realm to save his son and, by extension, himself. But he would also be able to use it to protect her when, on Saturday, he made her his wife.
In name only.
So help him.
Chapter Twelve
Hortense stood beforethe moldering door for the second time tonight and tapped out her special knock.
This time, it was her alone. The terms Doyle had agreed to with Clare weren’t the only terms, she was certain. It wouldn’t be as simple as trading the paste tiara for Rafe. There would be a tax.
Further, Doyle hadn’t revealed his and her continuing arrangement to Clare. She would have to pay for that, as well.
The taxes kept stacking up.
The door cracked wide enough for a suspicious eye to appear, then opened to admit her. Not a minute later, she was standing before Doyle exactly where she’d left him two hours ago.
“I knew ye’d be back. Gettin’ predictable in yer dotage, pet.” He roared his vile, phlegmy laugh.
“What’s my tax?” She didn’t see any reason not to cut directly to it.
“Can’t I be doin’ somethin’ from the bottom of me heart?”
“No.”
Again, he laughed. “No tax, pet.”
“Why did you agree to the deal?”
“Me dear, sweet mam, ’course.” He was definitely toying with her.
She wasn’t having it. “You never agree to let one of your eels go, not until they’re too big, too old, or too incarcerated to serve your purposes anymore. So, why Rafe?”
“Oh, he’s servin’ a purpose. He’s how me mam’s soul will be able to rest in peace.”
Hortense believed that bit, but there was more. Doyle’s eyes shone with a canny light. He wanted her to puzzle it out. Of a sudden, it struck her like a thunderbolt. “You’re not giving him up.”
A beatific smile broke across Doyle’s face. “I knew ye’d get there. Ye always were too clever fer yer own good.”
“What’s the game?”
“It’ll come in right handy to have an eel on the inside of a lord’s palace, ye ken?”
The fear and anger that had been building inside her broke like a dam. Rafe would be used as a weapon against Clare. “No,” she stated, clear and direct.
Doyle’s eyebrows lifted. “No?Last I checked, ye don’t be givin’ the orders ’round here.”
Her mind raced.Think, think, think.She couldn’t let this happen. Clare and Rafe would never have a chance of a true, father-and-son relationship. Further, Rafe would never be free of Doyle.Think, think, think.
The solution came to her. “Use me instead.” Such a terribly simple solution.
Doyle’s eyes narrowed behind his spectacles, and his smile faded. “Don’t be spoutin’ words ye don’t mean.”
“I’ll be the wife of a lord.”
“Yer gonna become the nob’s wife, in truth?”
