“Because I need to gohome.”
His lips instantly pulled up in a snarl. “Over my corpse.”
“From what I’ve experienced, that may very well be soon.”
Someone chuckled.
“Are you certain you didn’t marry in secret,frère? You appear like that old bickering couple who sell the confections Saint loves so much over at the market.”
Violet became abruptly aware of the room—of five pairs of eyes fixed far too intently on them. Drake did not release her. If anything, his arms tightened even more. She wiggled in his arms. “Put me down!”
Drake sighed but did as she asked.
She shot him a glare for good measure. “Forget I said anything about wanting to hear anything.”
This time, his eyes narrowed. “No, now is the best time to talk.”
“No, it’s not, and if you still think it is, you’d best know I may never speak to you again!” The last thing she wished to prompt was a scandalous conversation before his brothers. And Calliope! Perhaps the only friend she might have in Brighton except for Angelica. What the woman must think of her. Then again, she did marry a Fury. She might be the only person who understood Violet’s plight.
Drake studied her a moment before he groaned, looking at his brother, Maxen. “Any words of wisdom for me?”
“Wisdom? No.”
“No?” He pulled a face. “No words of advice to impart?”
“What is the use? Even if I impart advice, will you take it? People are drawn to discover the perils of life themselves.”
Calliope winked at her.
“Speaking of marriages,” Drake growled and marched over to the unconscious Percival. He bent to fish in the man’s pockets, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He turned back to her. “He didn’t force you to marry him, did he?”
Eyes wide, Violet shook her head.
“That lout!” Calliope leaped to her feet. “He’d have forced you?”
Violet sighed. “He’d have tried. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. What are you going to do with him?”
“Lock him up.” He snatched the earl’s arm and pulled him across the room, directing at her as he passed, “You coming, little flame?”
The words died in her throat. The last time he’d told her she didn’t belong there. Now he invited her along.
Oh, yes.She was going!
Drake’s mouth curved, not quite a smile, but something fierce and approving.
No one stirred to follow them. Calliope only met Violet’s gaze and gave a small, solemn nod. This was not their fight.
This was hers.
Drake’s.
She followed him through the underbelly of the tavern at an unhurried pace, refusing to look at Percival being dragged along, though she did derive great pleasure fromhispitiable state. But even with that sore sight, the walls seemed to take on a new life now that she walked them with him rather than being led through by his brothers. She took the rear but occupied the moment as though it were hers by right.
The stairs descended steeply, torchlight flickering, its shadows stretching and retreating restlessly along the stone. Drake took them without adjusting his grip on Percival’s arm, the man bumping down each step with boneless cooperation. Then the passage opened into the familiar hollow chamber containing the brother that had once brought her tea, Saint, and...
“Reginald?” Her brother’s name left her lips in disbelief as she took in his ashen face, his eyes wide with terror. He shrank back instinctively, wrists held oddly before him. Her gaze flew to the back of Drake’s bandaged head. “You have my brother?”
Drake cast her a sideways look, wholly unapologetic. “Now I have your betrothed, too. Any more men I should know about?”
