Page 57 of The Duke and the Darkness

“Are you certain?” Devlin pressed.

“Have I seen him in the flesh with my own eyes?” Crewe asked around chews. “No. But my contacts claim he is, and Ibelieve them.” He swallowed and gestured the apple at Devlin. “Someone with inside knowledge is attempting to put the old enterprise back together. If not him, then who? Who else would know so much about the management of their scheme?”

When Crewe’s gaze slid to Peyton, Devlin bristled at the implication. “She doesn’t know as much as that.”

“Nor would I willingly participate in anything like that,” Peyton confirmed.

Crewe’s eyes assessed her coldly. Then he wordlessly took another bite of apple.

A knock sounded from the half-open door behind Devlin, and he turned to find a tall figure in the doorway. The morning sunlight from the street behind the man darkened his face and front, but Devlin would have recognized him anywhere.

Chase Maddox, Duke of Greysmere. Former mercenary with the Prussians during the War of the Fourth Coalition. One of Devlin and Lucien’s oldest and dearest friends from Eton. A dedicated student who had gained more from Anthony Titus’s guidance than simply learning to fight.

And the most troubled man Devlin knew.

Chase stepped into the converted warehouse and slowly moved his gaze around the room to take it in, his face inscrutable. Dressed in all black, wearing a greatcoat over a tunic and loose-fitting trousers, Chase greeted Devlin and Crewe with slaps to their backs as each man came forward.

Devlin had been best friends with Chase for nearly twenty years, yet since the accident that claimed the life of Chase’s toddler son two years ago, his old friend had been completely out of contact. Immeasurable grief and anger at himself for letting the accident happen had driven him to the Continent in pursuit of Anthony Titus. He needed to study under his old mentor once more to learn how to exorcise the new demons that haunted him. Devlin had heard rumors that Chase had returned toEngland and sent word to Greysmere House that he was needed, but he hadn’t been certain until that moment that Chase would appear.

Then his eyes fell on Peyton. Chase cast a careful look over her from head to foot. It was the same measuring glance he would have given any opponent—or any enemy on a battlefield. Since his son died, that was exactly how Chase saw the world, Devlin knew. As a battlefield filled with enemies.

Peyton tensed under Chase’s scrutiny.

Devlin went to her side to put her at ease. “Chase, this is Miss Peyton Chandler, the woman I wrote to you about. Peyton, may I introduce Chase Maddox, Duke of Greysmere, and one of the best men to ever enter battle?” He squeezed her elbow. “You can trust him with your life.”

“Thank you for coming to help,” she said and held out her hand to him. He bowed over it with all the stiffness one would expect from someone who had been well out of society and living like a monk for two years.

With a sharp nod, he released her hand. “I went to your townhouse at dawn to investigate and found evidence of gunpowder in a rear cellar storage room. The explosion and fire were intentional.”

Her face darkened with worry. “Who was hurt?”

“Most of the servants escaped unharmed. Your man Wilkins is recovering at a nearby inn. He wants to see you, to make certain you’re safe. I told him you’d contact him later today, if you were feeling up to it. Hearing from you will put him at ease.”

Devlin frowned as he watched his old friend. Chase’s voice was low, deep, and controlled, as was every aspect of his presence.Now.Two years ago, the loss of his son, then his estrangement with his wife—and with her, everything he’d wanted for his future—had left him little more than a ruinedshell. Titus had managed to do the impossible and bring him back to the land of the living.Partially.

Peyton nodded. “I’ll send a message to him immediately.” Then she pressed, “And Betty Proctor?”

Chase grimly met her gaze. “She’s still unaccounted for.”

“Unaccounted for,” Devlin repeated to reassure her. “That doesn’t mean dead.”

Chase agreed. “Especially since the rest of the household seems to have escaped without harm, and no remains have yet been found in the debris. We have to assume everyone made it out safely.”

She nodded stiffly, as if willing herself to believe that. “And everything else…is gone?”

Devlin knew what she was asking—did anything from her past survive the blast and fire, anything from her childhood or of her parents?

Chase understood the grief of such a loss, and empathy softened his voice as he answered, “The fire destroyed everything.”

Except for a faint tremble, Peyton showed no outward sign of how devastated she must have been. Good God, the control she possessed to stand there and accept news like that, how hard-won that restraint must have been, and all she’d gone through to gain it… It broke his heart.

So Devlin turned the conversation to another concern and asked Crewe, “And Horrender?”

With that, he passed a faintly apologetic glance in Chase’s direction. Their old friend had only learned that morning about what their fathers had done with Horrender’s help, when Crewe had taken it upon himself to tell him with Devlin’s permission. There would be feelings of betrayal at not being confided in sooner, Devlin knew, but he also knew that Chase understoodthe need to protect family at all costs. Even at the price of keeping secrets from old friends.

“Horrender—or someone pretending to be him—is taking credit for it,” Crewe answered. “But then, he would. If he’s putting back together the old enterprise, he would see it as an opportunity not just to destroy you and whatever evidence you have linking him to the attack but to also send out a warning to Dartmoor and me to leave him alone and to others not to cross him. Just as he wanted to do when he murdered the Chandlers.” He tossed the rest of the unwanted apple into the stove and slapped closed the front grill. “But he didn’t do it alone.”

“What do you mean?” she asked and reached for Devlin to steel herself against the answer.