She possessed an instinctive knack for pushing him to the very brink. For taunting and tempting and running him ragged. He had never met another female like her.
Leo stabbed at his salad once more, taking care to choose a vegetable this time. “How fanciful an imagination you do have, wife. Such a wit.”
Her brilliant blue gaze narrowed on him. “No more a wit than you,husband.”
“I never thought to see the day, Carlisle,” Trent said then, choosing that moment to gloat. His grin could not be hidden. The bastard was enjoying this.
“I hope you know what you have unleashed,” he said, raising his glass in a mock toast. “For it will all fall upon your shoulders.”
It was true he had orchestrated the marriage between Trent and his duchess during the course of an investigation into her Fenian connections. As it had turned out, the true villain had been the duchess’s father and not her at all, but in the end, Trent had already fallen in love with his duchess, and nothing else had mattered.
Leo had no doubt he would not prove so fortunate. Where the Duchess of Trent had been proven innocent, Bridget O’Malley had already been proven guilty. He had ample proof of her Fenian ties. No realm existed in which he could forgive her for those sins.
Trent raised his own glass. “I have broad shoulders, Carlisle.”
“You will need them,” he gritted.
You will also need a goddamn phalanx of soldiers guarding you, he promised inwardly,for vengeance will be mine.
This egregious interference and betrayal would not go unpunished.
By that point, the wedding breakfast had become as volatile as a Fenian bomb itself. At any moment, it would explode, sending shrapnel tearing into everyone in attendance.
He signaled to his butler. “I do believe we have enjoyed enough of this course, and we may proceed to the next.”
His butler appeared aggrieved for a brief moment, until he schooled his features into their familiar, expressionless mask. “Yes, of course, Your Grace.”
The servants scurried into action, removed the course. Silence descended, heavy as a boulder, punctuated only by the sounds of the domestics at work. The slight clink of cutlery, the clean sweep of china from the table dressings. The door closing behind the last of the servants, leaving the company of four alone once more as the next course was fetched.
The Duchess of Trent scowled at him. “If you think to abuse my sister, you had best think again, Carlisle. You are meant to be protecting her. The only place for her to be is with me. I shall vouch for her and look after her.”
“You forced me to marry her, and now she is mine,” he said, hating how much he liked the pronouncement. Loathing the effect those words had upon him. The vile creature dwelling within him enjoyed having Bridget O’Malley at his mercy.
He wanted her there forever, at his side. In his bed. His willing captive.
But those were fantasies, and his duties were firmly grounded in reality. In truth, he needed her. He needed her words, her admissions, the names she would provide. Any information she could give, and he could not lose sight of that important fact.
“Carlisle,” cautioned Trent. “Surely there is no need to upset the ladies on a day meant for celebration. What would the harm be in allowing her to stay with us? You made it clear you do not want a wife.”
“I need to interrogate her,” he reminded the duke. “Or have you so swiftly forgotten her information was a part of this bargain with the devil?”
“I have not,” Trent acknowledged, solemn and cool. “I will have your promise you will treat her with the deference she deserves. She will answer your questions, but you must be a gentleman.”
Leo flashed him an evil smile. “I am always a gentleman.”
He felt Miss O’Malley’s eyes on him.Christ.He could not continue to think of her as Miss O’Malley, for if he slipped and referred to her thusly to the domestics, questions would abound. More importantly, he did not want the connection of her surname with her brother’s, incarcerated in Dublin as a Fenian sympathizer.
He considered this marriage one more extension of supporting his cause. Lord knew he had played a great many roles already in his work for the Crown. What was one more?
“I will remain here as the duke wishes,” said his wife then, her smile forced.
He was seated near enough to her to feel the tension radiating from her, and he suspected it matched his own. She had made it clear she did not wish this union any more than he did.
Before anyone could speak, the ninth course arrived.
Bridget wasn’t preparedfor the knock at her chamber door.
When it sounded less than a quarter hour after she had returned there following the interminable wedding breakfast, she nearly let out a squeal of alarm. Any hope she maintained that it was a servant on the other side of the door died when she bid her visitor to enter and the Duke of Carlisle stepped over the threshold.
