Page 41 of No One's Bride
“I despise being in anyone’s debt, Chance,” Sebastian said, keen to prove he had power in his own right and was not at Daventry’s beck and call, “and I always pay my dues. Should you need assistance in any matter forthwith, you only need ask.”
Aaron screwed the paper in his fist, throwing it into the fire before saying, “I shall hold you to that, Denton.”
Then Miss MacTavish did something surprising and jumped to Sebastian’s defence. “Lord Denton is quite rigid when it comes to keeping oaths. You can trust his word. And kindness begets kindness. If ye would like me to talk to Miss Chance on any matter, know I shall oblige.”
Aaron considered the lady, his gaze lingering on her person for far too long. He professed to have no time for women, but Miss MacTavish’s forthright manner doubtless had great appeal.
While Sebastian’s blood simmered, Aaron gave a curt nod. “Wait here. Help yourselves to refreshment. I shall speak to Delphine and see what rooms we have available.”
As soon as Aaron left the plush office, Sebastian crossed the room and pulled the stopper from the brandy decanter, keen to soothe his mounting ire.
Daventry appeared at his shoulder to offer one of his banal truisms. “Love is never without jealousy.”
What the devil?
Was Sebastian’s slight possessiveness so obvious?
Had the serpent writhing in his chest started hissing?
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not jealous, and I’m not in love.” Yes, he was eager to protect a woman he considered a friend. When it came to the spell, was it not right to show concern over a man’s sudden interest? “We may be friends, but do not presume to know what I’m feeling.”
“I was referring to Aaron Chance,” Daventry said, amused.
Damn. Sebastian rarely jumped to conclusions. “I see.”
“When a man has fought his way up from the streets, he seeks to keep his family close and is fearful of change.” Daventry gestured for Sebastian to pour brandy into his glass. “Aaron won’t cope when one of his brothers leaves the nest.”
What would Aaron do if his brother died under mysterious circumstances? “They share a lucrative business. I doubt they plan to sail the high seas, cross oceans and live a thousand miles apart.”
“No.” Daventry glanced at Miss MacTavish, who had taken a book from the side table and was busy scanning the pages. “That reminds me, Mr Kirkwood is a regular patron here. I’m told he served with your brother Michael aboardThe Perseus. Perhaps you might play a game of hazard together.”
Suspicion flared.
Daventry knew something.
“For what purpose?”
Daventry shrugged. “To reminisce. To discover what life was like aboard the vessel.”To delve into your brother’s private affairs, he might have added.
“Is this where you tell me that nothing is coincidental? That one must make the most of every opportunity?” Was Daventry manipulating events from the orchestra pit? A maestro directing him and Miss MacTavish, forcing them to dance to his tune.
“Am I that predictable?” he teased.
“Yes, and I’m well aware of your motivations here.”
“What are his motivations?” Miss MacTavish said, joining the conversation. “Do ye speak of the grimoire?”
Daventry replied, revealing the connection to Mr Kirkwood before Sebastian had time to draw breath. “A death abroad must rouse many questions. I merely thought Denton might use the opportunity to address concerns over his brother’s sudden demise.”
“Concerns?” Miss MacTavish’s brow furrowed. “I thought he died of a tropical fever.”
Every muscle in Sebastian’s body stiffened. The memories did not live in his mind. To speak of them would mean dragging a net deep into the belly of the beast and hauling the debris to the surface.
“He did,” Daventry said, keen to dredge up the past. “But Denton clearly has unresolved issues. He fights the hardest man in the White Boar’s fighting pits every anniversary. He has to punish someone for what happened to his brother. That’s where he gained the scar on his jaw. My agent, Mr D’Angelo, always attends the event.”
Sebastian met Miss MacTavish’s wide-eyed gaze. He expected her nose to wrinkle, to see the sour pout of disapproval, but she looked at him as if he were a Highland warrior come to rid the village of a scourge.
He could imagine the mechanisms in her mind smoking from overwork. Later would come questions he would refuse to answer, and they’d be back to bickering.
