She glared at him, his excuses finally catching up to her foggy brain. “I hope you’re having fun with this.”
He grinned fully now, flashing his even, white teeth at her. “Quite.”
She pushed against his hard chest, but he remained where he was. “Move,” she demanded.
“You’re no fun,” he grumbled under his breath.
But just as he rolled to the side, the door opened and while Constance expected to see Luke’s smug face in the doorway, when she glanced over, the older man was there, but there was also another, unexpected guest.
And when Sir Isaacson glanced from her to Devin, he didn’t look very happy at all.
All merriment vanished as Devin faced the newcomer. The moment his eyes clashed with the baronet, Devin’s fists clenched at his sides. He had yet to forgive the man for sending him to hell. He would have preferred the noose to the place he’d called home the past five years.
He stood by stiffly as Constance scrambled off of the bed. She smoothed her skirts and patted her hair and Devin wanted to snort. Why she might care about how she looked for this man, he wouldn’t ever understand.
“Sir Isaacson. I wasn’t expecting you to call.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “I can see that.” His focus hadn’t yet wavered from Devin’s face.
He barely resisted the urge to smile back.
“A… allow me to present my… cousin.” Constance stammered, as she waved a hand to encompass Devin.
His lips curved upward. “I understand you’ve been recuperating.” He lifted a brow. “Although it seems you are in rather good health to me.”
Devin smiled with a devil-may-care demeanor, knowing that his words would cut the deepest. “That’s because I have a particularly lovely caretaker looking after me.”
“Indeed.” The word was clipped, and Devin knew his barb had hit the mark.
“I assume you’ve already met my… uncle?” Devin didn’t think Brooks had even caught the question in her introduction. “Mr. House.”
“Aye. That’d be me,” Luke muttered, catching on to the game and reluctantly being a part of it.
“Sir.” The baronet barely inclined his head as he acknowledged Luke.
The slight caused Devin’s fists to curl even tighter. Brooks might hold an honorary title, but that didn’t give him the right to act as though Luke was beneath him. Speech and manners didn’t make a man. In the colonies, especially Van Diemen’s Land, backgrounds didn’t matter. There, they were all equal. There was no class differences. They were all the same—criminals.
“I thought I would surprise you by popping by to check on your… cousin.” Sir Isaacson hesitated over the familial connection as he addressed Constance, as if it stuck in his throat. “And to escort you to Lady Hartley’s.”
“I didn’t realize you were attending a ladies’ salon. Curious about the latest on dits?” she murmured almost flirtatiously.
When Devin frowned, he noticed that Brooks stood a bit taller. “I confess that I was also wishing to see you as well. Perhaps have a chance to talk?”
“Of course. Just let me get my wrap?” She glanced toward Devin, and then excused herself.
When Luke followed shortly thereafter, leaving Brooks and Devin alone, he crossed his arms, ready for the inquest that would surely follow.
As suspected, the baronet wasted no time in demanding, “What are you playing at, Blackmore? Honestly, I’m surprised to see you back in England. I thought the men in the colonies might have taken care of you by now,” he smirked.
It was all Devin could do not to let his fists fly and connect with the man’s jaw. It was only because of his respect for Constance and her desire to mingle with this world that he refrained, because while Brooks could be utterly ruthless, he still managed to carry a lot of influence in society.
“You would have liked that, wouldn’t you? So I wouldn’t return and make you wonder if I might enact my revenge on you for being a filthy betraying coward.” Devin smiled evenly, placing his barbs exactly where he wanted them to land.
The baronet’s jaw clenched with unconcealed fury. “It really is too bad your whore had to plead for your life, letting you escape the hangman’s noose.” His eyes flashed maliciously and his voice fell an octave. “Unfortunately, the lady wasn’t so lucky in escaping me.”
Devin stilled. He hadn’t thought of the repercussions that might have befallen the charming widow after he’d been sent away. Annalise Coventry, Countess of Tyne, had been very well liked in the ton, because of her fashionable salon gatherings. It was only during an attempt to engage her reticule had she met Devin. He had failed to take off with her purse, although he hadn’t wanted to steal from this particular lady, because whenever he’d seen her walking along the park paths early in the morning, her expression was always particularly sad.
It was Luke who had encouraged him to make her his mark because he knew of her wealth. It was the older man’s job to scout their victims and Devin’s to remove them of certain articles. But on that day, he’d wanted to get caught. If nothing else, just to talk to the lady and find out what always caused such a forlorn look.
