And to keep the flowers from the tables.
A knock at his door had Dimitri glancing at his watch.A full ten minutes tardy, Lord Harrington.Just like every other fop in London—inconsiderate of a man’s time.
“Enter,” he called, and stood behind his desk. Dimitri enjoyed projecting a stance of power, especially to mortals.
“Good morning, Dimitri.”
The man who strode confidently into the study was not Lord Harrington. In fact, it was a well-dressed, neatly groomed Voss.
“What in the dark Hell are you doing in this house?” Dimitri said, furious at the man’s effrontery. “You’re more of a fool than I’d thought. Woodmore has left word you’re to be staked on sight.”
“I don’t see you reaching for your ash pike,” Voss replied lazily. “But don’t let me stop you.”
Dimitri tamped down the annoyance. He was used to dealing with this bastard and his insouciance, and he wouldn’t allow the man to needle him. He was stronger, older and infinitely wiser. “I owe you more than an ash stake in your heart,” he said coolly. “After your games andsalvithat night in Vienna.”
Even now, nearly a century later, he couldn’t think of the night Lerina had died and his business had been destroyed without wanting to do something violent…to someone. Preferably the arse-licker in front of him. Yes, it had all started with him and his games and trickery. Moldavi would never have risked his own humiliation by daring to insult and challenge his host if Dimitri hadn’t already been sluggish and intoxicated from Voss’s ruse.
To his surprise, chagrin colored Voss’s face. “Indeed, you do have cause for anger, Dimitri. I see it now. But I do hope that after our conversation, you’ll be a bit more…tolerant.”
Dimitri made a show of glancing at his pocket watch, then glanced again at the windows. Full, hot sun, with nary a cloud in the sky showed from between a narrow opening in the far set of drapes. “In fact, I’m expecting another visitor momentarily. I’m afraid I haven’t the time nor the inclination to speak with you. Good day, Voss.”Burn in the sun.
The other man smiled. “Lord Harrington won’t be calling today, I’m afraid. I’m here in his stead. To speak with you about my intentions toward Angelica.”
At first Dimitri couldn’t react, and then he burst out in hard, derisive laughter. “You’re mad. If I don’t kill you, Woodmore will.”
“May I speak, Dimitri? I hope that you’ll change your tack…but if not, please know I’m here because I love Angelica. And she loves me. We intend to wed, with or without Woodmore’s—or your—blessing. But I hope to gain your support. You of all people will understand, I believe.”
There was something different about Voss, the least of which was his almost placating tone. Dimitri had never known the man to show deference to anyone, nor to speak in a tone without that hint of conceit.
Curious now, yet just as wary, Dimitri scoffed. “I can understand my ward believing she loves you—isn’t that your forte, Voss? Wooing and coaxing and seducing? But you, loveher?Youlove anyone besides yourself?”
Voss didn’t rise to the bait. “I can certainly see how you might look at it from that perspective. You know even I would never have touched Lerina—or anyone else one of us was feeding and mating with, but?—”
“You fail to understand, Voss, that it wasn’t the infidelity or even the loss of Lerina that has created my antipathy toward you. I knew who and what she was, and that’s why Moldavi even had the opportunity with her. She was trying to gain my attention, poor wretch. Why do you think I was with her?” Dimitri closed his mouth and clenched down hard. He needn’t explain himself. Not to him.
Not to anyone.
But Voss looked surprised. “And all these years, I thought it was because you loved her.”
Dimitri kept his face stony. He’d only loved one woman, and she’d left him long ago. “No, I never loved Lerina—just as you never loved the scores of women you’ve been with. Don’tmisunderstand—I didn’t wish her to die, of course. As for you—it’s simple. I don’t trust you. I don’t like you. I have no interest in interacting with you, Voss, because you aspire only to trick and manipulate, and to take from others for your own gain.”
Voss stared at him, and for the first time, Dimitri believed the man might have actually heard him. “Indeed,” he said. And nodded, as if accepting what Dimitri had just said.
Voss took a breath and continued, “In spite of that, perhaps what I’m about to show you will change your mind.”
“Show me?”
“I mean to show you proof of my regard and intentions toward Angelica.” Voss drew off his coat and folded it neatly onto a chair.
Dimitri watched in morbid fascination as the other man then divested himself of a ridiculously tied neckcloth, which also joined the coat, and then untied the collar of his shirt. “Burning Hell, Voss, what the devil do you think you’re doing?”
“Showing you this.” The man whipped off his crisp white shirt and turned away, giving Corvindale a full view of his back.
For a moment, Dimitri couldn’t speak. “Satan’s dark soul,” he whispered at last.
He stared at the smooth expanse of Voss’s back, stunned and disbelieving. A shaft of something dark and unfamiliar stabbed him in the belly.
Impossible.
