“I didn’t expect you back this soon.”
Constance gasped at the sound of the masculine voice in the darkness. Devin was silhouetted in the doorway of the parlor, but he slowly walked toward her. “I didn’t realize you thought it necessary to wait up for me,” she countered coolly. “I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”
She knew she was being unkind, but after her encounter with Sir Isaacson, she wasn’t in the mood to accommodate anyone. Not only was she feeling frustrated and somewhat vulnerable, the sight of Devin’s dark, sultry looks and his casual attire, only unnerved her further.
However, it wasn’t until he drew closer that she noted he was wearing a dark frown. “You’re crying,” he said softly.
She instinctively reached up and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she’d allowed such a terrible weakness. It wasn’t often that she gave in to her emotions, but perhaps the fact that she wasn’t a woman in the blush of youth any longer had allowed the tears to fall. “It’s nothing,” she muttered.
Attempting to leave, she closed her eyes when he caught her arm in a light grasp. It was firm, but not enough to hurt. “Don’t lie to me. Something happened tonight to upset you. Tell me what it was.”
His tone allowed no argument, but what could she say? That the baronet intended to coerce her into a more intimate situation? As usual, when she tried to scramble for something to say that sounded plausible, her mind was a blank slate. In the end, she gave a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She waited, expecting him to force her to talk. Instead, he held out a sealed missive. “This arrived while you were out, which is why I was up.”
Constance nodded, swallowing over the guilt that wanted to swamp her. It wasn’t until she broke the seal and read the brief message inside that some of her edginess eased. “It appears that Granelli has taken his leave from London for a brief time, so that is one less problem to contend with at the moment. At least, until you finish recuperating.”
“And how do you know this information comes from a worthy source?”
“I spoke with a trusted confidante yesterday,” she explained, grateful to turn her mind to something other than the baronet and his upcoming ultimatum. “Not much escapes Mr. Plainview when it comes to the word on the street.”
“Mr. Plainview?”
“Drennen Plainview to be precise. He runs Montfree’s now, so I knew he would be my best chance for information. It’s one of the few places in London that I feel comfortable going without the threat of causing a scandal or a knife in my back.”
“And Mr. Plainview offered his assistance to you after five years abroad with no strings attached?”
Constance’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I like your tone, Mr. Blackmore,” she snapped. Her strained patience was abruptly coming to an end. “I hope you aren’t trying to imply something unsavory.”
He shrugged, but his dark eyes were silently assessing. “In my experience, nothing is seldom free.”
“And I don’t take well to being accused of doing things that aren’t true.”
She would have left him standing in the middle of the foyer then, except his voice carried after her. “And yet, you pay a visit to a notorious gaming hell on your own.”
Constance slowly turned back around to face him. She strode forward without any hesitation and glared at him. “You seem to forget that I used to work there. As a woman, I’ve done business with more cutthroats and criminals in London than you can even begin to imagine. They knew not to cross me or else they would pay the consequences with their lives. Be cautious that you don’t become my enemy.”
Since she was within reach, he lifted his arm and touched a lock of her hair. “If I could gain access to all of you, then I will gladly be anything you want.”
While Constance had been struggling with her attraction to Devin, after tonight, it wasn’t difficult to spin out of his hold. “Don’t be nonsensical.” She made it to the bottom of the stairs a safe distance away, and only then did she turn back around. “You should know that I won’t be around much the next few weeks. I took your advice about a metamorphosis ball and Lady Blessington has agreed to host it, so I will be spending most of my time assisting with the preparations.”
With that, she stalked off to her chamber.
Devin was ensnared in the throes of a nightmare.
He wasn’t sure why his mind had decided to distress him tonight, whether it was the sour way he’d parted with Constance, or the haunting remnants of a life he feared would claim him once more.
Whatever the reason, it had been weeks since he’d suffered the torments of his early days in the colonies, but as he thrashed about on the bed he was transported back in time…
In his subconscious, he was shoved roughly onto the ship carrying transports for the long haul down the Atlantic. His heavy, iron chains bit into the skin of his wrists and ankles, quickly rubbing them raw, as they clanged with his every step across the rough wooden deck.
He was led down a narrow set of steps into a hold that resembled that of a slave ship and forced to sit on a wooden bench next to men who looked at him as though it might be a guess who would actually arrive to their destination alive.
On that ship is where the first battles officially took place. The food rations were few and Devin went to sleep many times with his stomach gnawing with hunger, and that was when he wasn’t keeping one eye open with the threat he might be murdered. And it happened often. Either the victim was suffocated or stabbed with a rogue splinter that had become a makeshift knife, as the panic for survival was all too real.
Those that died didn’t even have a proper burial. As a criminal already sentenced to die somewhere other than England, their bodies were wrapped up in a section of tarp and shoved over the side of the rail for the inhabitants of the sea to feast upon.
After the first few, Devin stopped trying to keep count, because what did it matter? He would either make it to the colonies alive, or he would perish soon after he got there.
