Taste of the Devil (12 page)

Confused, she searched his expression for a clue to his strange behavior.

Despite his nonchalant demeanor, she was learning that Lord Devon was not someone who was easily deciphered. No ready answer was forthcoming.

She turned back to the Duke. “Thank you, your grace.

Have we met before? I confess you do seem somewhat familiar to me, although I can’t quite place–”

“Please, I wish for you to think of me as your own grandfather and call me such.”

Ginny could feel Tyler’s displeasure at his grandfather’s words. The Duke, however, seemed oblivious to his grandson’s hostile reaction as he blithely continued on.

“We have met, my dear, but ‘twas long ago. You were just a young girl. I knew your parents. Fine people. I was so very sorry to learn of their unfortunate... well...” The Duke cleared his throat, at a loss for words.

Ginny patted his arm. “I understand. It was a long time ago; you mustn’t be embarrassed by bringing it up.

Really.”

Tyler beheld Ginny’s kind expression, feeling an immediate compassion for her. She had been through much, and at a young age. It upset him for some reason to think she had been left for so long under the care of that reptile.

He tightened his arm around Ginny as he gazed down at her, glad, at the very least, to be removing her from her uncle’s influence. Suddenly, he realized how much they had in common. Both of them had been orphaned at a young age and left in the care of an unfit guardian.

‘Twas different for a man though, Tyler concluded.

A man made do. ‘Twas the nature of things. But a little girl? How had such a kind girl fared? Was her uncle brutal to her?

His eyes narrowed as he remembered the day he had met her in the garden. Her cheek had been red and slightly bruised. At the time, he thought she had scraped it while climbing down from the tree. Now he wondered if the discolorations might not have been fingerprints.

His temper flared at that notion and his thunderous expression reflected his opinion on the matter.

Just let the Toad, or any man touch her. He’d slice him from stem to stern.

To reassure himself she had not been harmed, he skimmed his forefinger lightly across the smooth skin of her cheek. The silken surface felt like the softest velvet under his light touch. Tender and succulent.

“Like a hearty rump roast,” he murmured, distracted.

Ginny blinked at him, stupefied. What odd, strangely salacious notion had fixed in the rake’s head now?

“Good grief, my lord, why are you prattling on about the hind portion of an animal?”

Tyler devilishly decided to play upon his mal-apropos and her wariness. She was rather engaging when he irritated her.

Which for some reason seemed to be most of the time.

Leaning over, he knew what he was about to convey privately in her ear would sound full of condescending arrogance. Hence, he couldn’t wait. “I am assessing the worth of our bargain. To my calculation it amounts to a rump roast– the flavor may be there, and it could be quite tender but one still gets the feeling much gnawing will be involved.”

He hit his mark. Insulted, Ginny bristled. “This is what you say to me on our wedding day? Compare me to a side of beef?”

Tyler shrugged. “Could be goat.”

Ginny arched a delicate brow. For some reason, the man seemed to enjoy teasing her. “You reprobate.”

The Duke discretely looked away, but not before Ginny caught his amused look. She whispered to her erstwhile intended, “Sometimes I wonder if you do these things simply to irk me.”

Tyler snapped her nose. “I rarely irk. Ask anyone.”

“You–” Ginny stopped as she noticed Lord Devon becoming aware of the Duke’s amusement. Again, the stone mask fell into place as he addressed his grandfather in a rather chilling tone.

“May I assume that in your usual way, you have arranged everything?”

The Duke of Islemoor also lost all signs of levity as he faced his grandson. When he spoke, his voice was just as devoid of warmth. “If I didn’t, who would?”

The implied criticism of Tyler’s wastrel existence hung in the air.

Ginny doubted the barb pierced Lord Devon’s thick armor, though. She applauded herself as correct when Tyler replied in an equally bland tone, “Who, indeed?”

At that moment Jediah and Henley alit from the coach.

Jediah immediately expressed fawning awe over Islemoor Hall; Henley complained that the curls in his wig had altogether drooped in the humid weather.

“I don’t know why you’re so happy, Jediah Moore.”

Lord Henry withdrew a lace handkerchief from his sleeve to dab at his red-rimmed eyes. “To think, my little Ginny is getting married.”

“Stop that nonsense right now, Henry. Ginny is only doing what nature intends for the female– marriage and family.”

“Why, you little prig!” Henley fairly spit at him.

“What do you know about what’s right for her? And as for what nature intended–” He waved a bejeweled hand dramatically in the air. “I, for one, have never done as nature intended and look how perfect I’ve turned out.”

So saying, he stormed off in a flurry of perfume and lace, leaving Jediah gape-mouthed.

The coach shook as Mabel stepped down. She captured both the Duke and Islemoor Hall in one searing, disdainful glare. It was clear to anyone watching that she deemed neither worthy of her charge.

In that one moment, Tyler could’ve kissed the old bat.

He rather thought he might come to adore Mabel Dooley.

Introductions were made, and they all started up the steps toward the front door. A loud indignant screech from the roof of the coach served as a reminder that Charles had also arrived and was not happy to be kept waiting inside a cage.

Ginny told Tyler to personally retrieve her cat as they headed inside.

Lord Devon raised an eyebrow at Ginny’s retreating back as they left all him behind on the front stoop of the mansion. So, when did that kitten get the idea she could order this leopard about?

He’d have to see about correcting that little quirk before it became a habit. He never took orders.

Never had. Never would.

Yet, the girl left him with no choice but to go down the stairs and liberate her cursed beast. No one else would go near the bloody bugger! Who would choose such a cantankerous rapscallion for a pet?

He better not be mauled for his trouble.

There was no telling whether a white, orange, and black spotted rug would fit in with his new bride’s preferred decor. For himself, he rather thought it would add that special something to any room he might be in.

Without hesitation he pulled the door open on the pudgy cat’s cage, grabbed the furry irritant by the scruff of his neck and yanked him out. He held him aloft at eye level.

The two stared at each other with squinty eyes.

In silence.

For several minutes.

The cat growled. Tyler growled back.

“They’re waiting on ye, Lord Devon,” Mabel called out.

Whereupon Tyler lowered the cat to the ground, and the two of them strolled into Islemoor Hall side by side.

Proving the old maxim that it took one to know one.

Chapter Eleven

They were married.

Ginny could hardly believe it! She looked down at the plain gold band Tyler had placed on her finger not more than an hour ago. It had all happened so fast.

She recalled being ushered into Islemoor Hall and a brief glimpse of an immense grand foyer before being led into a side parlor. The Duke thought Ginny might like to freshen up after the long coach ride, perhaps change her clothes. She had wanted to, but Tyler had insisted they get on with the ceremony.

Ginny attempted to tell him of the wedding gown Mabel had found in the attic. Her mother’s dress.

Mabel had carefully pressed it, and Ginny had lovingly held it to herself in front of the mirror. Yet, when Lord Devon gazed down at her silently from his great height with that stony expression in his pastel eyes, she found she could not get the request out.

He would think her silly and sentimental.

After all, theirs was nothing more than an arrangement.

He might think it peculiar that she wanted to wear her mother’s bridal gown.

So she said nothing, and quietly acquiesced to the immediate ceremony. Mabel bristled at his cavalier behavior, but for once held her tongue.

A local parson had performed the ceremony.

There was some disruption when Ginny insisted that Henley, not Jediah, give her away. In the end, her uncle had no choice but to stand down. It was a solemn Lord Henry who stood by her side until the very end.

The Duke surprised everyone by graciously offering to give Ginny his departed wife’s sapphire and diamond ring for the ceremony. The very one he had given his Duchess when they had married. Obviously, the old man assumed his wastrel grandson would not arrange for a ring.

Before Ginny could respond, Tyler hissed out a cold refusal. Retrieving a ring from his waistcoat pocket, he grabbed Ginny’s hand, and roughly placed a plain gold band on her finger.

Not understanding Tyler’s actions, Ginny contemplated the ring with quiet fascination. It was an unusual choice.

Beautiful in its simplicity. It was the kind of ring only someone who truly knew her would get. It was perfect.

She glimpsed up at him, flashing him a breathtaking smile.

Tyler sucked in his breath. At that moment, he discovered he rather liked when she smiled at him. He didn’t know why, yet for some reason, his little wife actually liked the unadorned ring he had given her.

He liked it as well. While it was true he had to give her something plain due to his supposed lack of wealth, he had specifically chosen the ring for its perfect simplicity.

The service ended with Tyler electing to kiss his bride on the forehead.

Henley was still sniffling when Lord Devon announced that he and his bride would be leaving straightaway for his townhouse in Grosvenor Square.

Everyone objected at once to this bit of news.

Jediah thought they would spend the night at Islemoor Hall. He was certainly looking forward to being sumptuously entertained. Henley and Mabel were concerned for Ginny, saying the additional trip to London would be too tiring for her.

The Duke unequivocally stated they should remain at Islemoor Hall.

Tyler firmly held his ground.

Taking an exhausted Ginny by the hand, he led her outside to his coach.

“A moment, Lord Devon.” Lord Henry confronted Tyler.

Tyler regarded the weepy fop with a faintly amused expression. “Yes, Henry?”

Henley drew himself up, puffing out his bony chest.

“I want you to know I shall be stopping by to visit with Ginny in a few days.”

Tyler said nothing, just raised a black eyebrow.

Henley continued on, his high voice gradually gaining in pitch with his nervousness. “I- I trust she w- will be in g- good health.”

Well, I’ll be damned, Tyler mused. The fop genuinely cares about her. So much for curtailing the Duo’s visits.

Leave it to Ginny to have two fops as champions. He nodded curtly. “As you will, Lord Henry.”

He again turned to leave with Ginny in tow.

Mabel quickly trailed after them.

“I’ll be comin’ wit’ ye, m’lord.”

Tyler stopped short on the stairs to face the servant, marveling at the loyalty this girl inspired. “That won’t be necessary. You and–” He visibly winced, “Charles may come in the morning.”

Mabel stood her ground. “I’ll not be leaving me little girl now.”

“Your little girl is now my wife.” This time Lord Devon‘s tone was utterly implacable.

They locked eyes for a moment and Ginny thought some silent battle appeared to be going on between the two of them. She knew who the victor was when Mabel slumped her shoulders.

“Aye, that she is, my lord.” Mabel crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “No doubt you’ll be explaining it to her.”

A brief smile flashed across his handsome face. “No doubt I will.”

Mabel grinned cheekily at him. “I never thought elsewise, m’lord. Y’ are a right fine taste of the devil, ain’t ye?”

Tyler roundly winked at the older woman. As he led a questioning Ginny away, he said over his shoulder, “Have no fear Mabel, I shall not be explaining too much this evening.”

Mabel’s knowing chuckle followed them down the stairs.

Ginny dug her heels in, refusing to enter the carriage.

“What was that about?”

Lord Devon scooped her up in his arms and, placing her on the seat beside him, motioned to the driver to go.

Turning to her, he innocently replied, “Mabel wanted me to explain to you the duties of a lord’s wife. I simply told her I probably would wait before indoctrinating you into the role.”

Ginny was perplexed. “You mean I shall be expected to-to entertain and such?”

Tyler answered her with a roguish grin.

“It’s more about the ‘and such’, love. Ask anyone.”

* * *

The ride to London was a long one.

Already exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Ginny felt her eyelids closing with the monotonous sway of the carriage as it lulled her to sleep. She hardly protested when Tyler lifted her onto his lap, covering them both with a lap robe. The night was a damp and chilly one; the warmth of his arms soon lulled her into a deep sleep.

Tyler relaxed as Ginny nestled into him.

He knew she was exhausted after the long day and ceremony, but he refused to spend the first night of his marriage under the same roof as his grandfather. The thought of this innocent girl coming under the sphere of his evil influence sickened him.

Already at the back of Tyler’s mind was the Duke’s threat to take his first son from him. He knew the crafty old goat would not separate the child from its mother–

so he supposed his grandfather would attempt to take Ginny from him as well.

Maybe after the birth of his child, the bastard intended to kill him off?

He wouldn’t put it past him. Men who wielded that kind of power often did not consider themselves bound by a morality they considered only for the masses.