Page 36 of The Duke and the Darkness

“I can’t. I can’t surrender…” She shook her head as the breathless confession tore from her and grabbed for a chair to steady herself.

He knew what she meant. She’d been driven by a need for justice and revenge for too long. If she gave that up, what would replace it? What would she have to keep living for? How well he understood that! And yet…

“And I can’t surrender my family,” he told her quietly. “I won’t stop protecting them.”

Confusion darkened her face, but in the dim light, he could still see the tracks of her tears on her cheeks, the glistening of her eyes, and the soft parting of her lips, still warm and moist from his kisses. “What would you need to protect them from?”

He hesitated. Speak of the devil… “Josiah Horrender.”

“I told you before—I don’t know who he is.”

Devlin believed her. Not even a Drury Lane actress could feign a lack of recognition like that. “He’s the man who carried out my father’s orders to attack you,” he said gently. “A criminal from London’s underworld who Dartmoor and Crewe hired to handle the less polite aspects of running their enterprise.”

Peyton pressed her fist against her chest, as if physically urging her heart to keep beating, her lungs to keep breathing…just as she must have done countless times over the years. “Like murder.”

“Among other things.” Beatings, kidnappings, blackmail, theft…rape. Horrender had hired the thugs who had attacked the carriage and killed her parents, as well as the one who’d attempted to rape her, Devlin knew that. His fatherhad admitted as much that same night when Devlin returned to Dartmoor House and threatened him into telling the truth. “Horrender oversaw the daily operations of the various businesses—No, not businesses. A criminal ring, full of all kinds of illegal activities. My father and Crewe used their power and influence to hide their crimes, but Horrender carried them out.”

“And my father was their banker.” She drew herself up straight, visibly steeling herself. “That’s why they argued that night. He must have discovered what they were doing and threatened to go to the authorities to stop them.”

He was so much more than merely a banker. Your father knowingly provided the means to make it all happen, then hid their profits. And he was killed because he knew too much…But Devlin didn’t have the heart to tell her that, not after all she’d been through tonight. Her father was dead and buried. She didn’t deserve to be haunted even more by the truth of what he’d done.

So instead, he said, “Horrender fled London the night of the attack. When I stopped hearing any rumblings about him from my contacts, I was certain he’d died overseas.” He rubbed at the ache behind his forehead. “But now there are whispers that he’s returned.” He slowly closed the distance between then, noting that her hand had tightened on the chairback so fiercely, he saw her white knuckles, even in the shadows. “It can’t be a coincidence that those rumors began when you returned to London.”

“It has to be, since I had no idea about him. If I had, I would have killed him myself long ago.”

He fought down a dour grin. At least her fighting spirit was still strong. “I won’t risk that my family might be targeted, or Crewe’s.” Lucien Grenier had just as much to lose as Devlin if the truth ever emerged about the secrets their fathers had hidden from the world. “Or you.”

Her lips parted, stunned. “Why me?”

“For all I know, Horrender has followed you here to kill you, to make certain you can’t connect him to your parents’ murders.” His gaze softly held hers. “So go back to France and let Elizabeth Wentworth live out a very long life, because all you’re doing here is putting yours at risk.”

“What good is a long life,” she objected, “if it’s lived doubting everything I thought I knew?”

She held his gaze, as if daring him to contradict her. But he couldn’t. God knew he carried enough of his own doubts to understand that.

“It seems we both want the same thing,” she ventured. “To find Horrender and put an end to him. We have the chance to finally find justice for what happened that night.”

No. There would never be justice for that. But perhaps, together, they could prevent more innocents from being harmed.

“Make no mistake, Peyton.” His voice brooked no misunderstanding about what he was about to agree to. “My primary concern is finding Horrender and figuring out why he’s returned. Uncovering answers for you is secondary. Understand?”

Not answering, she slowly swept across the room to the armoire, closed its doors, and leaned back against it. Her eyes gleamed intensely in the shadows. “Where do we start?”

Chapter Nine

Peyton stopped onthe footpath in front of the grand townhouse and stared up from beneath the hood of her cape at its stone façade, shadowed by early evening. Five bays wide, four stories tall, fronting one of the most exclusive squares in Mayfair… Dartmoor House.

She frowned. When she’d asked Devlin where they should start to find Horrender, she certainly hadn’t expectedthis.

The butler stood at the front door, holding it open for her. “Miss Wentworth?” he called out to her with a bemused bow at her hesitation. “His Grace is expecting you.”

Of course he was. But wassheready for this?

When Devlin sent a footman to her townhouse the morning after their confrontation in her room, he’d invited her for an informal dinner with his family. She’d laughed. He was mad, surely!

But he was also her only way to Horrender. If that meant walking through the fires of hell itself—or sharing three courses with his family, which might end up being the exact same thing—she had no choice but to do it.

She pulled in a deep breath and lowered her hood with shaking hands as she slowly made her way to the front door.