No Good Duke Goes Unpunished (The Rules of Scoundrels #3)(12)

“She came to me, Cross,” Digger said, laughter in his voice. “Led me right into temptation, she did. I believe I’ll be keepin’ her.”

“That is entirely untrue.” Pippa instinctively defended herself, struggling against the fox’s grip, silently willing Cross to look her in the eye. “You knocked!”

“And you answered, pet.”

She scowled and looked to Cross.

He did not meet her gaze. “She does not look as though she is interested in being kept.”

“I most certainly am not,” Pippa agreed.

“Release the lady.”

“Always so generous, callin’ the Angel’s birds ladies.”

Pippa stiffened. “I beg your pardon. I am a lady.”

Digger laughed. “With airs like that, you might fool someone one of these days!”

Irritation flared. She’d had enough of this man. Craning her neck to meet his blue eyes, she said, “I see I made an immense mistake by even conversing with you, Mr.—” She paused, waiting for him to do right and provide his surname. When he didn’t, she pressed on. “Mr. Digger. I assure you I am quite thoroughly a lady. Indeed, I am soon to be a countess.”

One of his black brows rose. “Is that right?”

She nodded. “Quite. And I don’t imagine you’d like to be on the wrong side of an earl’s favor, would you?”

Digger smiled, reminding her of a fox once more. “It wouldn’t be the first time, moppet. Which earl?”

“Don’t answer that,” Mr. Cross snapped. “Now, Digger.”

The man holding her released her, his touch a slow, unsettling slide against her midsection. The moment she could be free, she hurried to stand next to Mr. Cross, now paying her even less mind, if it was possible. He was advancing on Digger, his words casual, belying the threat that oozed from him with every movement. “Now that’s out of the way, perhaps you could explain what in hell you are doing in my hell?”

Digger remained focused on her, more thoughtfully, even as he replied. “Now, now, Cross. You forget yourself. I was simply coming over to give you some information I thought you might appreciate—bein’ right neighborly if you ask me.”

“We’re not neighbors.”

“Nevertheless. I’ve information you’ll be wantin’.”

“There’s no information you have that I could possibly want.”

“No? Not even information about your sister?”

Cross stiffened, corded tension tightening the long column of his neck and through the lean muscle of his back, pulling him straighter, taller than before.

Digger pressed on, “I’m guessin’ you not only want it . . . you’re willin’ to pay for it.”

The air thickened. She’d always heard the expression and thought it utterly silly. Certainly, air thickened with fog or with smoke . . . she’d even allow for it thickening with the stench of Olivia’s perfumes . . . but she’d always considered the very idea of emotion impacting the density of gas rather ridiculous—a silly, clichéd turn of phrase that should be exiled from English.

But this air did thicken, and she found it difficult to draw a deep breath, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Lord knows she ain’t comin’ to you herself, you fine cheat.”

Pippa gasped at the insult. Surely, Mr. Cross would not allow it to stand. But he seemed not to hear the personal slight. “You will not touch my sister.”

“It ain’t my problem if the ladies are drawn to me,” Digger said. “A gentleman doesn’t turn ’em away if they’re askin’ for a minute or two.” His eyes slid to Pippa once more. “Ain’t that right, Lady Soon-to-be-a-countess?”

“I find it difficult to believe either that ladies are drawn to you or that, in such a case, you would act the part of a gentleman,” Pippa retorted.

“Cor! Listen to this one!” Digger laughed, the sound booming around the floor of the hell. “She’s a little mink.”

Pippa narrowed her gaze. “I believe you are looking for the word minx.”

“No, I found just the right word. You’re a mink. All sharp teeth and”—his lecherous gaze slid over her—“I’m bettin’ very soft fur. Tell me, Cross, ’ad a feel yet?”

Pippa did not understand the words’ meaning, but when Mr. Cross lunged at Digger, hands like lightning clutching the older man’s lapels with wicked force, she had no doubt that she’d been thoroughly insulted. “You will apologize to the lady.”

Digger pulled away from the grip without much effort, straightening his maroon frock coat. “Ah, not yet then, I’m guessin’,” he said smartly. “But not long of a wait now, neither. Not yer usual type, I’ll say.” He bowed low, a teasing gleam in his eye. “My apologies, Lady Soon.”

Her teeth clenched at the mocking name.

Mr. Cross spoke, quiet menace in his tone. “Leave this place.”

“Don’t you want to hear what I came to say?”

His hesitation was so slight . . . a half second . . . less. But Pippa heard it. “No.”

One side of Digger’s mouth crooked up in a smirk. “You will change your mind. I give you two days.” He waited a beat, and Pippa had the distinct impression that there was an invisible knife hovering between these two men, each strong in his own way. She wondered who held the weapon.