“Why are you here?” she pushed out past clenched teeth. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other.”
He didn’t move, just remained in the middle of the kitchen, positioned between herself and both the door to the outside and the one to the rest of her house. Positioned between her and safety, she realized now with a creeping sense of discomfort and dread.
“You’ve taken up with the Duke of Willowby, I hear,” he drawled. “Become his whore, but a whore he takes to proper parties, sothatis something.”
She froze and met his eyes carefully. There was something so feral in them. So dangerous, and in that awful moment she knew that all of Lucas’s hunches about this man were correct. That he was the person who had nearly killed him. That he’d been a traitor and a vile betrayer to everyone who trusted him.
And she also knew, in a flash of heartbreak, that her father was likely also guilty. There was no mistaking their connection, especially since Boyd was here. Menacing and cold and dangerous.
“He was injured,” she said, treading lightly. “I was asked to help and did so.”
“There’s a bit more to it than that,” he said, that wicked smile returning to his lips. “And who can blame him? I know the charms you possess. I was the first one to sample them. Do you think I should tell him about that when he comes to rescue you? Or did you already confess it all when you gave yourself to him?”
She caught her breath. His words were coarse and crude, but they were also terrifying. Rescue her. That meant she was under threat. And so was Lucas.
She shook her head. “You can tell him anything you like, I suppose,” she said softly, trying desperately to measure her tone. “I mean nothing to him. As you said, I was just his whore.”
“So you think he wouldn’t come for you if you were in danger?” he asked with a laugh. He reached into his pocket and slowly withdrew a small pistol. He pointed it squarely at her. “As you are in danger now.”
She sucked for air, but couldn’t seem to draw in enough as she stared at the weapon pointed at her. This man had killed before, in cold blood, and there was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t do the same to her. One twitch of his finger and she would never again smell the flowers in her garden or walk in the hills around her home. She would never see Lucas again or feel his touch or be able to tell him that she loved him.
Grief welled up in her for all she would lose alongside her life.
“Steady now,” he said. “No need to get ahead of yourself, my dear. You are a means to an end. A lovely piece of cheese for a rat or two.”
She shook her head. At the very least she could try to save Lucas in this. “I’m telling you, he won’t come for me. I don’t mean enough.”
“Is that why he put a guard on your house? Because you’re meaningless?”
She blinked. “A-a guard?” she repeated.
“You didn’t know?” he asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I took care of the lad myself. What’s one more dead spy now?”
Her stomach turned, but she forced herself to remain calm. “You are just trying to frighten me,” she whispered.
“I hope it’s working, for you should be frightened. For yourself. And for him. Because you’re wrong about his feelings, I think,” he said with a chuckle. “My people tell me that he cares for you. And even if he doesn’t, the man wouldn’t let a lover die. He lets his heart get ahead of his head that way. Besides, if he doesn’t come, the other one will. And that would be as good a catch for this cat as Willowby.”
“The other?” Diana repeated in confusion. “What other? Are you talking about Stalwood?”
His smile widened, impossibly cruel and callous. “No. I’m talking about your father, Diana.”
Her lips parted. This man was mad. “My father is dead,” she breathed.
He shook his head slowly. “No, no, my dear. Dead is what he wanted you to believe. I assure you, George Oakford is very much alive and well. At least he will be until I lure him to me with your life as bait and then put a bullet through his lying brain.”
Diana stared at him, unable to think or speak or breathe. The world began to spin. Her father, alive? After all these months of mourning and pain, was it possible? Her breath came short as she was overwhelmed by emotion, and then she did something she’d never done before in all her years.
She fainted.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lucas carefully slung himself down from the horse, ignoring the massive pain that shot through his leg and shoulder as he did so. He handed over the reins to one of Stalwood’s men and glanced up at the stylish townhouse before him. Inside he would have to face his superior and find out the truth about a man he’d considered a father.
He was not looking forward to what he would hear. His instincts already knew what it would be.
He climbed the long stairs and was greeted by Stalwood’s butler. By the serious expression on the man’s face and the way he took Lucas immediately down the hall, it was clear he was expected.
The man opened the door. “The Duke of Willowby, sir,” he said into the room, then stepped aside for Lucas to enter. Stalwood was standing to the left at the window, looking out, his expression pensive.
