Page 59 of Dukes Are Forever
"I have enemies, Adele." Malloryn leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. "One in particular who would like to see my head removed from my shoulders. He's made no qualms about the fact he will remove any obstacles between us. Nor is he squeamish when it comes to striking down those close to me."
Her lashes obscured her thoughts. "Like the baroness."
The name was a whiplash of guilt across his seared nerves.
"Yes," he managed to say, though he was momentarily blinded by the sight of Isabella's vacant eyes staring sightlessly at the roof as she lay in a bloodied tangle on the carpets of the Ivory Tower. "She's not the first woman I've cared for that he's struck down. But shewillbe the last."
He'd promised himself that as he took one last look at Isabella in her coffin before he gently closed the lid.
Balfour would only hurt those close to Malloryn. Keeping his friends and those he cared for at arm's length was the only way to protect them.
"Our estranged relationship is your best protection," he said. "Everybody knows we don't care for each other."
Adele took a long, slow swallow of her brandy before responding, "Who is it?"
And here came the crux of the problem. The less Adele knew, the less she could repeat. Though he'd clearly made a mistake in regards to her loyalties, he wasn't entirely certain if he trusted her.
But he walked a fine line of leaving her unaware of the danger around her, if he didn't at least warn her.
"Lord Balfour."
"Balfour?" She nearly dropped the brandy. "He died in the revolution. You cut his throat and buried him—"
"Not deeply enough, it seems." Malloryn sat back in his chair as he considered her. "You've seen my maps, my photographs. He's behind everything, though he's content to hide in the shadows as we speak. He wants revenge upon all those who destroyed his power during the revolution. The queen. The Duchess of Casavian and her consort. Me."
It was quite unnerving to see her take such facts and quietly compute them. "Are you certain it's truly him?"
"Considering he had me kidnapped and taken all the way to Russia the other month, yes, I'm certain."
"Kidnapped?" Adele frowned. "You sent me a letter saying you were in Norway."
"Gemma forged my handwriting and signature."
Again, she glanced away. "I should have guessed. It seemed overly familiar."
Bloody Gemma. Meddling in his personal life.
"So where is Balfour now?"
"I don't know." He shrugged. "That's what I'm trying to discover."
Adele drummed her fingernails on her empty glass, staring into the distance. "You think Devoncourt has something to do with him. You said he worked for him."
There was that dangerous intellect again.
An odd surge of curiosity rose within him. He'd underestimated her several times and couldn't afford to do so again. Despite the frills and taffeta, Adele could be a dangerous adversary if she so chose.
He didn't like walking this knife's edge with her.
But he couldn't deny it intrigued him.
"The man you know as Devoncourt is not truly an aristocrat. According to my sources, he's a former Falcon of Balfour's masquerading as the long-lost earl. He was on the edges of the SOG movement before we killed and arrested the ringleaders—" She looked momentarily baffled, so he quickly explained the SOG to her. "We think he's using his false status to gather those former SOG members who faded back into the populace once Ulbricht died. I wouldn't be surprised if he was one of the ringleaders who referred to themselves as the Rising Sons. I'm fairly certain he knows where Balfour is."
"He's been charming me for months." Heat filled her voice. "That bloody bastard. He kissed me."
"I'm aware."
The curt tone of his voice drew her attention.
