“Because you also pay the magistrates,” she charged.
Clever woman, his future wife. That would prove a boon, he hoped, rather than a burden.
He shrugged. “What was the promise you wish to extract from me, Duchess? I will consider agreeing to your request because I am feeling…what would a fancy nib say? Magnanimous. Aye, I’m feeling magnanimous. On account of me soon being a married man and all.”
She sighed. “I want you to promise me my brother will be safe. And I also want you to swear you will bar him from your establishment so he cannot lose any more funds. I want him forever free of debt to you.”
Her love for her worthless brother was almost admirable. Except it was misplaced. As was her belief in him. Lady Adele Saltisford knew nothing of the ways of men or gamblers. It was almost sweet, her insistence she believe the best of Sundenbury.
Sweet?Floating hell, what was the matter with him? Brother dearest had likely slipped poison into the wassail.
“You truly think if I refuse him at The Devil’s Spawn that he will not go elsewhere to have his pockets fleeced?” he asked her.
Lady Adele did not flinch, nor did she waiver. “I believe it will be a deterrent, especially after he realizes the extent of the sacrifice I made for him.”
She was a rarity, this woman he was going to marry. She was dipped in sunshine and the foolish belief everyone around her was good. The truth was, every last one of them, from brother dearest down to the footmen, was fucking horrible. What must it be like, such unending, misplaced belief in the innate goodness of others?
For a moment, Dom wished he shared in her delusions.
Until he remembered where they would leave him—dead in an alleyway, a Sutton bullet lodged in his back.
“Ah, my darling duchess.” He stroked the backs of his fingers down her silken cheek, the first touch he had permitted himself since meeting her in the library at her request. “I do hate to dismantle your idealism, but that is not the way of it for men who throw away their lives and fortunes upon the next flip of a card or roll of the dice. If I deny him, Sundenbury will go elsewhere, and he will lose his coin there all the same. Only, it will go worse for him as the owners of other establishments will not be members of his family.”
In truth, there was no chance her brother would be admitted anywhere else. Dom had made it known in the East End that Sundenbury must be refused at all hells except The Devil’s Spawn or risk facing retaliation from the Winters. He wanted the heir to the Duke of Linross in his debt, and not in the debt of any other. He would have Linross in the palm of his hand by more than one means, just where he needed him. And he would emerge victorious over the Suttons at last.
“Nonetheless, I demand your promise,” she said.
Her determination was another trait to admire. It was also the reason why he had paid all brother dearest’s servants to keep him apprised of her every move. He had foiled no fewer than six attempts to flee, all without her knowledge.
Lady Emilia Winter appeared at the threshold of the library. “The two of you will have an abundance of time to discuss what you wish in privacy after you wed.”
If Lady Emilia believed there would be any discussion following his marriage to Lady Adele, she was cut from the same foolish cloth.
But she was not wrong about her wish to get the marriage underway. The sooner Lady Adele was his, the better.
He turned back to his bride. “Very well, I give you my promise.”
He said it with ease because he had no intention of holding true to his promise. That was yet another lesson his future wife had to learn. Never trust someone who wants something from you.
She searched his gaze, apparently seeing what she wanted there before she nodded. “I will do it.”
With a curtsy, she turned and fled from the library, following Lady Emilia Winter.
In no time at all, he was going to be a married man.
And then, no one—not even Jasper Sutton and his army of bloodthirsty thieves—could stop the bastard Winters.
* * *
The carriage lumbered slowly over the icy roads leading from Oxfordshire back to London. There could be no complaints about the quality of the carriage. The squabs were fashioned of silk and leather. The newness of the paint and the surprising lack of sound within as it rattled over treacherous roads suggested it had been recently built. The floor was lined with lush carpet, heated bricks laid at her feet for warmth. Venetian blinds covered the windows, allowing in the gloomy light of the winter’s afternoon. It was, Adele had to admit, lushly appointed and elegant.
But it was not any carriage in which she traveled. No, indeed. This was her husband’s carriage.
Adele wasmarried.
Her father was going to have her hide. Her mama would swoon when word reached her in Cornwall, where she had gone to look after her own ailing mother. Her sisters Hannah and Evie would be shocked. And Max? She could only hope he would appreciate the sacrifices she had made to keep him safe and that he would change his ways.
Just as she could only hope Mr. Dominic Winter would prove a good husband.
