The Devil She Knows by Diane Whiteside Page A

has,” William snapped, more harshly than he’d ever spoken to a mule. “So we’ll make the most of you, do you understand?”
    Their ostensible host curled his lip and declined to answer—until Hal pricked his chin with needle sharp, cold steel. Townsend shrieked at the dirk and almost pulled out of William’s grip, spilling a foul stench into the elegant room.
    William cursed violently in Gaelic and yanked the fool forward by his vest. “Townsend.”
    The New Yorker trembled violently but didn’t try to run this time. Hal’s knife stroking his cheek undoubtedly aided his concentration.
    â€œWill you be a good father to Portia?” Richard asked sternly.
    â€œYes,” Townsend whispered hoarsely, his gray eyes flapping sideways toward Hal’s blade. Sniveling easterner had definitely never seen a true threat before.
    â€œA fine one, to be proud of?” William demanded.
    â€œI swear it!” Blood trickled down his unhappy relative’s throat and stained his collar.
    â€œHow much did St. Arles wring out of you for Portia?” Hal inquired, deadly as a coroner hurling questions over a corpse.
    â€œA lump sum sufficient to pay off his father’s and brother’s debts.” He tolled the words like an accountant recounting the loss of hard-won pennies to a bitter enemy.
    â€œGood Lord!” Richard ejaculated. “Surely there were other peers on the Marriage Mart you could have bought for that much?”
    â€œNot of the same rank.” Townsend shrugged pettishly, braver now that he could look away from the knife. “St. Arles was willing to take a far smaller annual income after the ceremony, if he received the bulk at the beginning. It was a better bargain all around.”
    â€œA half million?” Richard’s tone indicated he named a larger than usual sum.
    Townsend shook his head and jerked his thumb upward to indicate a far higher sum.
    William’s vision began to darken. He’d grown up on a seaport’s streets and knew far too much about buying and selling flesh. But back there, the seller was always motivated by matters of life and death. Here, it was only to increase the feather bed comfort of a greedy fool’s life—and risk destroying his own flesh and blood.
    William’s fingers tightened on the bastard’s shoulder, grinding muscle and sinew against bone.
    â€œAhh!” The weakling’s knees started to buckle and Hal ruthlessly yanked him completely upright.
    â€œDid you tell St. Arles about Juliet’s money?” Hal demanded in tones which would have cut steel.
    William froze, a faint spark of hope warming his veins. Viola and Juliet, as the only granddaughters, had split Richard’s mother’s investments. Portia, Juliet’s only daughter, had inherited all of her mother’s share.
    Surely Townsend would have told St. Arles about that family trust. But if he hadn’t…
    â€œNot yet. It’s not a very sizable amount—is it?” He glanced around at the other men and read the answer in their implacable countenances. “A fortune? Good Lord, I must tell St. Arles immediately. He might refund me some of Portia’s dowry!”
    Hal kicked his greedy brother-in-law’s feet out from him and sent him straight onto his knees with his face only inches from the fire.
    â€œOne more word like that,” he warned, his immense seaman’s paw wrapped in his enemy’s graying locks, “and your nose will start roasting. Do you understand me?”
    Townsend’s face and eyes turned the same pasty shade of gray. “You’d never do that to your brother—would you?”
    â€œI’d gladly destroy anyone who threatened my niece.” Hal’s voice held the flat certainty of a butcher announcing the daily special. “Today you helped terrorize her. Why shouldn’t I kill you?”
    Townsend gulped for air, his lips