Devil Takes A Bride by Gaelen Foley Page B

folded, white towel. She shut the closet silently, then turned and squared her shoulders. Holding the towel against her chest, she did her best to school her expression into one that she hoped resembled her usual serenity and marched resolutely toward the entrance hall, fairly certain she was about to get the sack.
What then?
she thought.
Where will I go?
She had no home of her own. She never had. All her life she had lived on the fringes of other people’s families.
    Dragging her feet down the corridor to the entrance hall, Lizzie heard Lady Strathmore’s regal voice lifted in joy to greet her nephew while the staff made much of him.
    The man, no doubt, was baffled.
    She could hear a deep, gentle baritone voice anxiously questioning Her Ladyship. She closed her eyes at the bewildered anguish in his tone. He sounded thoroughly shaken.
    â€œWhat’s happened, Aunt Augusta? Tell me everything at once. Why are you out of bed? Shouldn’t you be lying down?”
    â€œLying down? Devlin, it is the middle of the day.”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œBut what?” The dowager sounded bemused.
    A pause.
    â€œI thought—That is to say—Do you mean you’re…all right?”
    â€œOf course, I’m all right.” The dowager laughed unconcernedly. “Darling, what in the world?”
    Lizzie arrived at the far end of the entrance hall and stopped, her presence yet unnoticed. Seeing them, her heart clenched at the unexpected tableau before her: Lady Strathmore was an aged queen on her throne, her nephew on one knee before her like her most devoted knight, mud streaked and bloodied from battle. Dripping with cold and shivering a little, he searched her face with an earnest, upward gaze, the shadow of frantic fear in his light eyes.
    â€œYou’re sure—there’s nothing wrong? You would not lie to me, Aunt Augusta? You are feeling well?”
    â€œI’m fine, Devlin!” The dowager chuckled. “Dear boy, did you come all this way to ask me that?”
    â€œYes,” he whispered, and stared at her for a long moment, comprehending at last that she was telling the truth. Then he closed his eyes with a look of utter relief and slowly laid his forehead on her knee.
    â€œDarling, what is the matter?” Lady Strathmore rested her hand on his tousled hair. “You’re beginning to scare me, Devlin. Where is your carriage? You’re a mess.”
    â€œI know. Sorry.” He did not lift his head.
    â€œMy God, Devlin, is that blood on your cheek? What’s happened?” the dowager cried.
    â€œMishap on the road. It’s nothing,” he said, quickly ending her fright.
    â€œWhat is going on? I demand that you tell me right now—”
    â€œI missed you,” he whispered. “That’s all.”
    Staring at him with deepening wonder, thoroughly mystified, Lizzie shivered with some strange, vaguely frightening emotion. Why did he not speak out? He could have exposed her, could have mentioned her letter, but he had not. At least not yet.
    â€œThere, there, my sweet boy,” his aunt chided, petting his sleek raven hair for a moment. “You know I’m always here for you. Tell me what’s the matter, Devlin. I shall fret with worry till you do.”
    â€œI…had a dream you were sick.”
    â€œWell, I daresay I’m in better shape than you. Put your mind at ease. Dr. Bell was here a short while ago and said I’m as right as rain. Didn’t he, Lizzie?”
    At the mention of her name, his head snapped up. His eyes narrowed.
    Lizzie tensed, awkwardly holding the towel. His gaze fixed on her, and the coldness that came into his pale, glittering eyes made her gulp.
    Oh, yes, it seemed he had figured it out.
    Lady Strathmore did not appear to notice the sudden hostile tension that crackled in the air. “Dev, dear, you have not met my young companion. Allow me to present Miss Elizabeth