Duke of Desire (Maiden Lane #12)(35)

“Yes, Your Excellency,” the man replied, and trotted into the abbey.

“You both come with me,” he said to the remaining Corsicans, and as he passed, followed by his guests, his men fell in behind.

He led the procession up the stairs and into the same sitting room in which he’d married Iris. He walked across the room to the fireplace.

“Thank you for inviting us in, Dyemore,” Leland said from behind him.

“I don’t remember inviting you to the abbey, Leland.” He turned finally to face the three men. “Any of you.”

“Naturally we don’t mean to intrude, Your Grace,” Andrew said. “We are on our way to London. We just stopped to see you. Had we known …”

His voice trailed away as Royce shot him an irritated glance. The brothers might’ve been twins, they were so alike, both with slightly pointed chins and noses, a faint scattering of freckles across each one’s fair complexion giving him a boyish air.

He’d seen what these boys did by torchlight. In fact, he’d known both since childhood.

After all, the Grant estate was adjacent to his own.

And of course their father, like his own, had been a member of the Lords of Chaos.

“You might want to heed our mutual friend,” Royce said with heavy emphasis.

Raphael lifted an eyebrow. “I heed no one.”

“No?” Leland said. “And yet you wish to join an exclusive company. One with a definite leader.”

Raphael met Leland’s eyes. He’d never seen the man alone—Leland always trailed one or both of the Grant brothers. Raphael had always assumed the man was a sycophant, yet now he seemed the least fearful of Raphael’s presence.

Interesting.

Bardo entered the sitting room and turned to hold the door for Nicoletta, who bustled in with a huge tray of tea and little cakes. She darted Raphael a cautious glance as she set the tea upon a table beside the settee and poured four cups before curtsying and leaving the room.

Andrew piled several cakes on a plate and took a cup of tea.

The other two men ignored the offering.

Raphael threw himself onto a chair. “Tell me why you’ve disturbed my peace.”

“We were sent by the Dionysus himself to see if you’d fulfilled your promise,” Royce hissed like a cat splashed with water. “And a good thing, too—you were ordered to kill her, yet we find Lady Jordan here and, what’s worse, you’ve gone and married her.”

Raphael shrugged, picking up a teacup and sipping. He’d never much liked tea, but it was a drink the English were fond of. “I changed my mind.”

Andrew laughed. “You changed your mind?” The younger Grant brother took a seat across from Raphael, shaking his head. “He’ll kill you, you do know that?”

“Will he?” Raphael cocked his head, feeling the fire, never banked for long, leap within him. “He’s certainly welcome to try.”

Andrew looked puzzled. “But you gave your word on your honor.”

“Honor.” Raphael arched an eyebrow. “In that company? With torches all around, standing with our cocks out, masked and afraid to show our faces.” He leaned forward. “How many victims were there that night, hm, Andrew? How many were children? Don’t talk to me of bloody honor.”

Andrew’s eyes lowered to his lap, where his hands twisted together.

Leland, however, wasn’t as cowed. “He made it plain that you were to dispose of Lady Jordan,” he murmured. “He considers her a liability to the Lords—especially because she’s a friend to the Duke of Kyle.”

“More fool he for kidnapping her in the first place, then.” Raphael said, lounging back. “But tell me, the Dionysus sent you here himself? You saw him unmasked?”

“He left a note.” Andrew looked up, his watery eyes anxious. “You know he never shows his face to anyone.”

“He must show it to someone,” Raphael murmured. “Someone knows where he came from and who he is.”

“No one.” Leland shook his head quickly.

Raphael watched him. “Then how does he communicate? How did he know you were still in the neighborhood? Where to leave the note?”

“Does it matter?” Andrew asked. “We were at Grant Hall. Presumably he must’ve been nearby for the revelry. The note was sealed and left at the door.”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “How are you to report your visit to me?”

“A note in—” Andrew began, but his brother cut him off.

“Why do you need to know? What would you do with the information?” Royce demanded. “You seek to bring down our Dionysus, don’t you? You want to take his place.”

“If I do?” Raphael asked softly.

Royce took a step toward Raphael, his face twisted with anger, but he hesitated on his retort a beat too long.

Royce feared him.

“This Dionysus is strong,” Leland said quickly. “The Lords haven’t had such a fine leader since your father was killed last fall. The man who attempted to become the Dionysus immediately after your father was too obsessed with his own fortune.”

Raphael sneered at the mention of his father. The prior Duke of Dyemore had been a roué of the worst sort and a man completely without honor. In no way had he been fine.