Chapter One #2
“Oh, I’m well aware of that. Which is why I was pursuing him three years ago.
Who knows what else he’s done by now. And what did I reap upon my return?
Nearly life-threatening wounds and a cut direct from Prinny.
” The heat of shame and anger filled his chest. “For years I had no idea who the man was. I only had a face and a moniker, but I’d followed him from England into France and back again. ”
Averly narrowed his gaze. “What was he known by?”
“The Jackal.”
Both men frowned.
“Fuck.” Averly tightened his fingers on his glass. “Is this man still alive?”
“As far as I know. Living his best life while I’m living half of one, and operating without support from the Crown.”
It was Ravenhurst’s turn to stare. “Meaning you haven’t given up finding him.” It wasn’t a question.
“No.” He remained silent for the span of a few heartbeats. Then he encompassed them both in his gaze. “What do you know of Marklesfield’s widow?”
“Next to nothing.” Averly shook his head. “Hell, I didn’t know Marklesfield had died. When?”
Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps in the last two years?”
“I’m with Averly,” Ravenhurst said with confusion shadowing his eyes. “I’m afraid I didn’t know Marklesfield died either, but then, I have let much slip from society within the past year or so.” His frown returned. “Why?”
Michael tightened the fingers of his left hand on the ivory head of his cane that was the shape of a wolf’s head. “I’m thinking that in order to get close to the viscount, who was the best friend of Marklesfield, I should call upon the widow.”
Averly shook his head. “That’s assuming she remained in contact with the man.”
He drummed his fingers on the cane. “I rather think that he would, for if she gained an inheritance from her husband, she’d be a wealthy widow, one it would only be natural he’d court. However, I suspect he’s in league with someone else.”
Ravenhurst shot him a glance. “Who?”
“If I had to guess, her brother.”
“God.” Averly rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “You assume the brother would want her to marry the friend?”
“Perhaps. Keep the coin close. And there have been rumors that the brother wishes for her to find another wealthy husband. Perhaps funding for whatever he’s doing has dried up with the death of the marquess.” This was pure speculation, of course, but he was usually right.
Silence reigned in the room for a bit while Averly drained his glass.
“Why pursue him now?” The red-haired duke looked askance at him. “It’s been a few years, and you came out of the last fight nearly dead.”
There was that. “It was the only mission I failed at… and it’s personal now. I won’t fail a second time.” Of that there was no doubt in his mind. He just needed an opening.
Remarkably, resistance came from Ravenhurst. “You intend to use the widow as bait?”
Michael nodded. “If I need to.” It was how the game was played.
Averly seemed mildly startled. “What happens if you get too involved with her?”
His shrug only lifted his good shoulder. “I don’t see that happening.” He’d learned from his mistakes in the past. “I might need to share a scandalous kiss or two, but the goal is to draw Viscount Echerson out.”
“And then what?” Averly asked with suspicion in his eyes. “You’re in London for God’s sake.”
As if that mattered. “I’ll put him down, just like I should have done in France.”
“Shit, Darkemore.” Ravenhurst stared with doubt warring with shock in his expression. “You plan to kill him.”
“If necessary.” There really was no other choice.
“It’s murder, and you’ll hang.”
Michael huffed. “I hardly think so. I’m a duke.”
“Who is currently out of favor with Prinny,” Ravenhurst reminded him.
“He is a traitor at worst and enemy of the Crown at best.”
Averly butted in. “Yet the Crown doesn’t think too highly of you either. Odds are you’ll both hang.”
That was one possibility. “That matters not. After this one last mission, I’ll go back to Cornwall, and no one will ever see me again.”
Slowly, Ravenhurst rose from his chair. “Is that due to the fact you’ll hide away again, or do you plan to put a period to your existence?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Oh, but he knew.
“Don’t be a fool, Darkemore,” Averly said as he turned toward Michael and stared him down. “You survived. Isn’t that enough?”
Not really. He waved his hand in dismissal. “As I said, it’s personal.” Because of the damned viscount, not only was he not a whole man, but also, he’d been branded a public and political embarrassment by the Regent.
Ravenhurst narrowed his gaze. “Are you trying to get back into Prinny’s good graces?”
“Ha!” Michael shook his head. “I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about him.
I left a mission unfinished due to nearly dying from being stabbed and being sent back to England.
After the Regent had bragged to too many people the Jackal had finally been put down.
Echerson left me for dead in the street like a dog.
He will pay for everything he did to me. ”
The silence grew heavy about them.
Finally, Averly stood. “Will you at least fuck the widow? Might take the edge off whatever demons you’re currently fighting.”
God, when was the last time he’d had a woman in his bed?
Six months? Nine? A year? It was difficult to say.
Time ran together in Cornwall. Before his life had come crashing down around his ears, he’d been a celebrated war hero even if he was a spy, and he’d had no shortage of willing women who wished to keep him company when he’d been in London.
Now, he purposefully kept everyone at arm’s length. It was easier that way.
“I can’t answer that at this time, for I haven’t gained an introduction to the lady yet.
However, if I’m in Town for much longer, I might make use of the courtesans at the club.
Otherwise, I only take a woman into my bed if I’m feeling randy.
With the disfigurement things are difficult but not impossible. ”
The grin Averly shot him was positively cheeky. “Nothing wrong with your prick though.”
“True.” Michael couldn’t help indulging in a chuckle.
“And I wouldn’t mind an extended period to get off my rocks and use a few toys I’ve have lying about.
Haven’t utilized them in a long time.” He gave them a rare grin.
“We shall see, but be advised. There might be gossip surrounding me no matter what I decide.”
A laugh came from Ravenhurst. “When is there not when one of us from Club Damnation is involved?”
Laughter went through their group.
Averly drifted over and laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I wish you luck, my friend. Should you need us, please don’t hesitate to make that known.”
“Thank you.” He nodded, but couldn’t help but wonder if that was an empty offering. Not once had any of the men at the club called at his manor in Cornwall to check on his well-being since he’d come home to England. “I hate to leave things undone.”
Once this task was finished, he would return to Cornwall like he told them, but he couldn’t guarantee that he would remain in the world. He was a damned broken duke, a beast with a temper and a cracked mind, a wreck of a man.
What sort of woman would ever want that?