Chapter 2
Two
T he very last thing Deveraux Ogilvy wished to be doing on a perfectly agreeable Wednesday evening was saying goodbye to Marianne.
“Have you taken everything you wish?” he asked as he leaned against the gilded chest of drawers in the bedchamber of the rooms he owned in the fashionable townhouse at the edge of Mayfair, where Marianne had been living for the past year.
“Yes, I have,” Marianne said, sending Dev a sad smile over her shoulder from where she stood by the small collection of bags resting on the bed.
“Are you quite certain?” Dev asked. “That seems like a pitiable collection of baggage for all of your earthly belongings.”
Marianne turned to him, head lowered slightly, and left her things to approach him. When she was close, she rested her hands familiarly on his chest and looked up at him. “It is not all of my earthly belongings, Dev. I sent a trunk ahead of me to my sister’s home.”
“You do not have to leave so much behind,” Dev said, resting a hand over one of hers. Not the one that covered his heart. “I have not replaced you as of yet. And who knows? My next mistress may not want these things in her rooms once I’ve installed her here.”
He was teasing, somewhat, and Marianne responded with a lighthearted laugh.
“Dev, you know that any woman you choose to warm your bed after me would be more than delighted to receive rooms that are already furnished. Your reputation among the ton might be as an unrepentant rake, but among those of us who warm the beds of those hypocrites, you are reputed to be the very finest of men.”
Dev smiled at the bold compliment. It was gratifying on the one hand to know that he was so well thought of among the courtesans and fallen angels of London.
It was another thing entirely to hear those sentiments expressed with such tenderness by a woman he should have cared for more than he did.
Besides which, he liked his roguish, dangerous reputation.
It was far more amusing to intimidate the ton and to have its more easily scandalized members fanning themselves as he walked past than to hear that he was thought of kindly by London’s underworld.
“Do not share those sentiments with my mother,” Dev laughed, feeling a small pang of disappointment in his chest. He truly should have been more attached to Marianne than he was.
Marianne was the epitome of beauty, grace, and discretion, and while their affair had lasted nearly a year, it had never been as satisfactory as it should have been.
“Your mother,” Marianne laughed, stepping back from Dev and moving to fetch her coat and bonnet. “Your mother is the precise reason why I am certain it will be some time before another woman occupies these rooms.”
“What makes you say that?” Dev asked, striding over to fetch Marianne’s baggage so that he might carry it out of the apartment and downstairs for her .
“All of London knows your mother wishes you to marry with all due haste,” Marianne said as they crossed through the rooms. “Half the ton is gossiping about which eligible young woman the third son of the Marquess of Russell will take as his bride.”
“It hardly matters whether I take a bride at all,” Dev said with a shrug as they left the apartment for the hallway.
“My eldest brother, James, is already married with a handful of children, and Julian, the next in line, wed three years ago and already gave me two nephews. The family name hardly needs more potential heirs to keep it safeguarded.”
They continued to the stairs, and as they descended, Dev nodded to Mrs. Torrance, the landlady.
“Good evening, my lord,” Mrs. Torrance smiled at them. “And to you, Mrs. Marianne. I am sorry to see you go.”
Mrs. Torrance was a good woman who knew which way the wind blew.
She had always been the soul of discretion when it came not only to the occupants of the rooms he owned, but when he had brought more temporary visitors with him for a night or two.
She hadn’t even batted an eyelash when those visitors were male.
“I have enjoyed my time here so much, Mrs. Torrance, thanks to your care,” Marianne said, taking a moment to embrace the landlady. “If ever I can be of assistance to you….”
“And I to you, love,” Mrs. Torrance said, patting Marianne’s cheek before continuing on with whatever errand she had.
“You see?” Marianne told Dev as they reached the ground floor. “You have the very best of reputations among the people who truly matter in the world.”
Dev laughed, agreeing with her assessment about who mattered.
“Your mother only wishes you to be happy,” Marianne added as they paused in front of the door. “Marriage can be known to make men happy, or so I have been told.”
Dev made a wry sound that was not quite a laugh. “I am not certain half the men of my acquaintance would agree.” Although his brothers and his father seemed perfectly content with their lives and wives.
“Then you need new acquaintances,” Marianne told him.
She took a moment to slide into his embrace, and even though Dev still held her bags in both his hands, he kissed her back fondly when she pressed her mouth to his, despite the scandal it would cause if anyone witnessed them.
That was it, though. Their last kiss. He should have loved Marianne better, but in his heart, he knew she was not the one for him.
He craved something else, someone clever and perhaps a bit dangerous.
It had been ages since he’d sucked a cock or had his own buried deep in the arse of a lithe, uninhibited young man. Perhaps that was what he needed next.
Marianne kissed him once more, then the two of them left the building. Once on the street, out of necessity, they could be nothing more than passing acquaintances.
The carriage Dev had ordered to take Marianne to her sister’s house was there waiting.
“Do have a care for yourself,” Dev told her, handing his former lover into the carriage as the driver took her bags.
“You as well, my lord,” Marianne replied, the picture of decorum. “And I sincerely wish that you find someone to make both yourself and your mother happy.”
Dev laughed at the cheeky comment. He stepped back, waiting for the driver to shut the carriage door, then raised a hand to wave goodbye as the carriage drove away.
He dropped his hand with a sigh, shook his head, then turned and headed deeper into Mayfair in the growing darkness, walking to his family’s home, where he currently resided.
His life felt as though it were at a crossroads.
He was not certain what he wanted from the world around him, only that he wished to be content with his lot instead of constantly searching for some new diversion to distract him.
Already, he had begun taking on more responsibility for his father’s investments, but with that occupational stability came the uncanny desire to settle his soul as well.
At the same time, a traditional sort of marriage of the kind his mother was determined to push him into held no appeal at all to him. He wanted something more, something unusual, something that would mean he had no desire to keep a mistress in the first place.
His thoughts turned over and over the conundrum.
So much that he almost did not notice the dark figure leaping out of an alley several houses ahead of him to tackle a slight, hunched young man who had just walked past. The young man shouted in fright, then doubled over as his attacker threw a fist into his gut.
Dev reacted without thought, dashing forward in the growing twilight.
Anger swept through him at the thought that pickpockets would dare to accost a gentleman in Mayfair before it was fully dark.
All too quickly he realized that the attacker could not have been a pickpocket and that something far more deadly was afoot.
The attacker moved around the gentleman like he would snap his neck and kill him.
“Unhand him!” Dev shouted, racing to the rescue.
He managed to push the attacker away from the gentleman before any serious damage was done, then went after the attacker himself. He landed a punch across the man’s masked face that sent the blackguard staggering back.
Whatever reason the man had for attacking the gentleman, he gave it up at once, turned tail, and ran. Dev had half a mind to chase the bastard and beat him to a pulp, but the gentleman needed his attention more .
“Are you well?” Dev asked, crouching by the gentleman’s side. The poor thing was obviously in pain from the blow to his gut, and if Dev was not mistaken, he was deeply upset by the attack as well.
That was all well and good, but when the gentleman turned his beautiful, miserable, pain-filled face up to Dev, a burst of powerful emotion nearly knocked him as flat as the attacker’s blow had laid the gentleman.
The gentleman was vaguely familiar to him and exceedingly lovely. He had light hair and an almost cherubic face. His lips were soft and tinted slightly red. He was clean-shaven to the point where Dev wondered if he needed to shave frequently at all. And he had the most captivating, sad, blue eyes.
“Let me help you,” Dev said, softening his tone on instinct and reaching for the man.
The gentleman recoiled a bit at first, then, when Dev slipped an arm around him to help him to sit, he blew out a breath and leaned briefly closer to Dev. The urge to embrace the man, pet him sweetly, and assure him that all would be well was nearly overpowering.
“Can you stand?” he asked the gentleman, shifting his stance so that he could lift the man to his feet before he had a full answer.
Once standing, the man seemed to recover his senses. “I cannot thank you enough,” he said, stammering slightly, still obviously traumatized by the attack. “I do not know what…I was so…I believe he was trying to kill me.”