Page 34 of An Enchanting Dare

“Gentlemen,” Kilbane said, inclining his head towards Maxwell’s guests, his strange violet eyes lighting with interest as they settled on Louis César. “Ah, and what fabulous good fortune befalls this weary traveller. As I live and breathe. If it isn’t the angelic Comte de Villen. We meet again.”

“My lord,” Louis said politely. “You honour me.”

“Oh, no. Not in the least, the honour is all mine. Like yourself, I consider myself a connoisseur and I have a great appreciation for beautiful things. The handsomest man on three continents, so society says. For once, I think they have the right of it. Sadly, I am considered too badly behaved to be beautiful. I cheat at cards, you know,” he added with a theatrical whisper.

Louis’ lips twitched but he said nothing.

“Right ho, well. Perhaps we’ll settle into our rooms, eh, Maxwell?” Barnaby said briskly, putting himself between Louis and Kilbane, though a fat lot of good that would do anyone if Kilbane decided to cause trouble. “Long journey and all that. Could do with forty winks before dinner, don’t you think, Louis?”

“I do. Travel is so wearying, and dirty,” Louis said, taking off his fine kid gloves and looking at them with distaste. “If you will excuse us, Maxwell, Lord Kilbane.”

“Of course. Brandon!” Maxwell called for his butler. Brandon had been overseeing the unloading of their baggage, but thankfully the fellow returned with haste. “Show Mr Goodwin and Monsieur Le Comte to their rooms, please.”

“And me, dearest Maxwell?” Kilbane murmured, a challenging glint in his eyes that boded ill, daring him to be anything less than civil. “Where are you going to put me?”

“Brandon, have Mrs Peterson make up another room for Lord Kilbane.”

“At once, my lord,” the man said, escorting Louis and Barnaby up the stairs, which left him alone with Kilbane.

The man lounged against the oak panelling, but his heavy-lidded gaze and indolent manner did not fool Maxwell. Kilbane appeared lazy, right up to the moment he struck, like a damned snake. He knew better than to let his guard down.

“Well, you have become a slippery fellow to nail down of late.”

“I’ve been busy,” Maxwell said with a shrug.

“Ah, yes. Busy polishing your halo. Did you actually die that night? For you have acquired a saintly aspect that I find most disturbing.”

Maxwell met the man’s eyes and did not look away. The only way to deal with Kilbane was to hold your nerve. The first sign of weakness, and he would find a way to exploit it.

“I am trying to make amends for my sins. That much is true. If you ever get close enough to meeting your maker, you may discover a desire for a second chance yourself, Ciarán. The sensation of your life blood oozing from your body on to the cold, hard ground has a marvellous way of focusing your attention on what’s important, on what really has value.”

Ciarán pursed his lips, looking bored as he tugged his gloves off and tossed them carelessly onto the table beside him. “It sounds dashed uncomfortable, I’ll give you that, but really, Vane. Charitable works? Isn’t that a little de trop? I adore a touch of drama and a delicious soupcon of irony, but really, your life is turning into some dull moral tale to be told to naughty children at bedtime. Surely the urge to do good has worn off by now?”

“Strangely, no,” Maxwell replied, relieved to discover there was nothing Ciarán could do or say to tempt him back into his old ways. An even greater revelation was that he pitied Ciarán, for it would be hard to find a man who was more utterly alone in the world. He had no friends, no family, no one who would give a damn if he died, though there were plenty queuing up to help him on his way. He was not short of lovers, for he was handsome and wicked in equal measure and exuded a lethal charm that beguiled and entranced until you were entirely caught in his snares. But no one cared for him, no one trusted him, and with good reason.

Ciarán gave an impatient tsk of irritation. “Well, we both know it won’t last. Eventually you will remember your soul is as black as pitch, for they tempered us in the same hellish furnace, you and I. But I can wait for your return to the fold. For now, I have other business. I do hope you have made arrangements as I requested.”

“A request, was it?” Maxwell said darkly, wishing he knew what the hell the bastard was up to.

“Maxwell, do remember that I discovered your dirty little secret. I should hate for that to become common knowledge,” Ciarán murmured. The light was fading outside and there was only one lamp lit in the hallway. It illuminated one side of Ciarán’s face and glinted fiery sparks on the blue-black hair that curled about his face, making him look diabolically handsome, a creature from the depths of hell come to tempt mere mortals to sin.

“I’ll kill you before I’ll let you breathe a damned word, old friend,” Maxwell said, his voice low and threatening and meaning it.

Ciarán chuckled, pleased, and showing even white teeth. “Oh, I have missed you, Maxwell, and there’s no need for such posturing. All I want is what I asked for, nothing more and nothing less. Do I have it?”

“Yes, damn you,” Maxwell growled, hating that he had no other choice, and praying that whoever it was Ciarán had in his sights this time deserved what was coming to them.

Chapter 13

Miss Knight,

I shall be at the Trevick party and will look forward to seeing you there. For the next few days, Mr Godwin — whom you esteem so highly – and I are staying with Lord Vane at Chessett House. Mr Godwin also expresses a wish to lose some money at Doncaster. I shall oblige him, naturally.

Mr Godwin is generally flustered when in Lady Millicent’s orbit, but you have the right of it. If she has the least bit of sense, she will ignore her prettier courtiers and the wealthy ones too. For Mr Godwin has that rarest of commodities, a kind and giving nature. Too many people mistake his kindness for foolishness, but I have seen enough of life to know the difference and value it for the rarity it is.

I wish he would not idolise me as he does however, but another disadvantage of being so open-hearted is to see the good in everyone. I hope he never has cause to regret such recklessness.

― Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight).