“Sympathy.” Devil made another sound that was half-growl, half-grunt. “Speaking of waifs, that little shite you dragged home from the monkery stole my pocket watch.”
Well, damn.He had been hoping the lad would practice his talents on those outside the hell. Dom would have to have a talk with him. Still, if he was daring enough to trouble Devil, it was a good sign.
He flashed his brother a grin. “His name is Davy.”
“Ought to be Satan,” Devil muttered.
Dom chuckled, but his amusement faded as his attention returned to the map. “Buying the land and offering competition to Sutton is the only way we can ease his grip on the people.”
Devil made another low sound in his throat. “We can kill him.”
Dom nodded. “When the time is right, we will strike.” He sent Devil another sidelong glance. “You truly think she will hate me?”
“Do rats live in the East End?”
Never one to coat his words in honey, Devil Winter.
It would seem no matter what he did, Dom was bloody well doomed.
* * *
“You are certain we must do this now?” Adele asked her husband as they waited in the entry hall of her father’s townhome while the butler announced their arrival to her father.
Breaking the news of their nuptials was necessary, she knew. But with all the tumult of the last few days and them only having arrived back in London the day before, seeing her father with such haste made her stomach tighten into a knot.
“Your father must be informed of our marriage,” Dom said at her side, his voice a low, soothing rumble.
Yes, but why today?
Why ever?
Father would be livid. He may never speak to her again. Her siblings would be shocked. Mama would be properly horrified. Misery swamped her.
“He must, yes,” she agreed, taking in the familiar confines of the entry hall as if she were a guest. Noticing new details which must have always been present and yet which she had never taken the time to note.
“Are you ashamed of me, Duchess?”
Adele’s gaze flew to her handsome husband. To look at him—dressed elegantly in a dark coat and waistcoat with buff breeches and a perfectly knotted cravat—one would never know he had been born to the rough world of the East End. Still, there remained a wicked, commanding air about him. She was certain his walking stick carried a secreted blade. There was a brace of pistols hidden in their carriage.
And yet, she was not ashamed of him. Rather, she was proud of him. Proud of the kindness he was capable of showing. Of the hidden parts of himself he had revealed to her.
“I am not ashamed of you, Dom,” she said softly. “I swear it to you.”
His nostrils flared, and he nodded once, as if he had been awaiting her response. As if he had been uncertain of what she would say. Her heart gave a pang. He was not as self-assured and untouchable as she had once believed.
Before they could indulge in further conversation, the butler returned, directing them to her father’s study. They were scarcely over the threshold when her father stalked toward them, his face red.
He was furious.
“What is the meaning of this, my lady? Bringing this brute as accompaniment? Your reputation will be in ruins if word of this should go beyond these walls.”
She had never stood up to her father. Adele was the quiet twin. The one everyone underestimated. But she was more than the wallflower she had been painted.
Dom tensed at her side, and Adele knew he wanted to speak on her behalf. Her hand on his coat sleeve was all that was required to shake him from his course. She sent him a telling look, hoping he could understand what she wished to convey to him.
Let me handle my father.
He searched her gaze, his jaw hardening, but in the end, her fierce and dangerous husband nodded and held his tongue.
