The hot flush of high emotion drained from Beatrix’s face. “I’m no one’s…”
The next word—sister—died on her tongue as she stared into Jagger’s eyes?—
his opaque gray eyes…fringed with thick black lashes…
Certainty crept through Dev—the same certainty that would be creeping through Beatrix.
The infamous blackleg, Blaze Jagger, was Lydon’s by-blow—her brother from the other side of the blanket.
“Soon,” she said, her voice a reedy scratch across her throat. “Soon, I’ll have funds.”
Dev’s brow dug trenches into his forehead. “Now, wait a minute.”
Neither sibling heeded him.
“Funds?” Jagger looked plainly skeptical.
She swallowed. “I’ll be able to pay off a sizable portion of the debt.”
“Beatrix.” Dev attempted to imbue his voice with an authority he didn’t hold. “You’ll do no such thing.”
He might as well have been issuing commands to the four walls, for all the consideration she gave him.
Jagger’s attention remained wholly focused on her. “Now, dear sister Lady Beatrix, what are you thinking to do to secure that amount of blunt?” For the first time since they’d convened in the office, his gaze cut toward Dev. “Maybe marry some chap?”
“That’s none of your concern,” she said, her chin lifting. Dev was relieved to witness a return of her spirit. “I’ll have it by the end of the month. Promise me you’ll continue to hold the note until then.”
“And what would the promise of a bastard like me mean to a lady like you?” asked Jagger. No small amount of bitterness laced the question.
Beatrix held her brother’s gaze. “If you give your word, I’ll believe you.”
With those words, earnestly spoken, Jagger’s pretense, arrogance, and condescension fell away as he stared intently into his sister’s eyes. He would see the truth in there. Tightly, he nodded.
Dev knew a moment for farewell when he met it. “Jagger,” he said, firmly. He glanced down. “Beatrix?”
A beat of time ticked past as brother and sister continued to regard one another. Then she nodded and allowed Dev to lead her out of the office and The Archangel. It was a silent ride through London as she stared out the carriage window. Her mind would’ve been awhirl with all that had transpired tonight.
Dev’s certainly was.
Blaze Jagger…the bastard son of the Marquess of Lydon.
The holder of Lydon’s debt.
None of which were problems of Beatrix’s making.
All of which affected every corner of her life down to the very roof over her head.
It was only when the carriage was rolling to a stop that he realized he’d allowed the coachman to bring them to Mivart’s.
Perhaps it was for the best.
Beatrix needed to give air to what was whizzing through her mind. Otherwise, she might burst from it.
Inside his suite of rooms, he strode to the liquor cart and poured two generous brandies, placing one in Beatrix’s hand before guiding her to the sofa.
She hadn’t yet spoken.
And it was making him nervous.
