Page 2 of To Dare the Devil

“And you’re a big oaf,” she returned sweetly, and hurried out through the rain to the kitchen to make gingerbread.

15th February 1842, Lower Square, Isleworth, London.

“Not that I’m complaining, but I assume there is a reason you’ve brought us to a muddy field on a cold, wet day,” Lady Elizabeth said, her lips quirking into a smile.

Maxwell Drake, seventh Earl of Vane, laughed, admiring the picture the young woman made against the rain-swept surroundings. Lady Elizabeth Demarteau might have married a bastard nobody in the eyes of the ton, but she was the daughter of a duke and everything about her screamed good breeding and wealth. Her outfit was the height of fashion, her cheeks glowed with health, her green eyes sparkled, and the considering look her husband was giving him reminded Max that he was behaving himself these days.

“There is, my lady,” he assured her earnestly. “As the buildings we have visited to date have been less than satisfactory, I thought perhaps a different option might work better for us. I own this land and I would be happy to donate it to the cause and use the funds I have already promised to build a school here. Something that would perfectly meet your requirements. I know you wanted to begin at once and it would take far longer, of course, but I think in the long run, this would be the best option.”

Lady Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she gave a little gasp. “Well, I wished to begin at once, yes, but I know that is my impatience at work. Building the perfect school would be better, only finding the land close enough to town and— Oh, Lord Vane, this is simply marvellous! Thank you.”

Maxwell grinned. There was certainly something in this do-gooding lark. He had never realised that making other people happy made him feel good too, but then he’d never tried it until after he’d come so close to losing everything. Until recently, he would have lived up to every description of a spoiled, vain, self-centred and loathsome parasite of an aristocrat, but no longer. Some beneficent deity had given him a second chance, a chance to redeem himself, and he’d grabbed hold of that chance with both hands.

“I have taken the liberty of having some preliminary plans drawn up, if you’d like to see them,” he offered.

Lady Elizabeth was practically bouncing on her toes, and her enthusiasm for her project, for life itself, made Maxwell want to hug her. Well, obviously that would be unwelcome and inappropriate coming from him. Her husband obviously felt the same impulse however, and put his arm about her shoulders, leaning down to kiss her temple. Despite all his good intentions, Max could not help a little envy creeping into his soul as she gazed up at her husband with adoration. His old self would have seen that as a challenge and immediately set out to charm and seduce the lady into his bed. These days it chagrined him to discover that not only did he not wish to spoil what was obviously a happy marriage, but he rather thought that was the bit he envied. He desired the closeness, the obvious affection and accord between her and her husband. It must be nice not to be alone in everything, to have someone to share your days, your triumphs and your disasters.

Maxwell blinked, disconcerted to discover Mr Demarteau had spoken to him and he’d not heard a word.

“I beg your pardon, I was wool-gathering,” he said, feeling like a prize twit.

“I said, could we discuss this somewhere warm and out of the rain before my lady catches pneumonia?” the big man replied dryly.

Maxwell nodded at once. “Of course, forgive me. I’m afraid the weather is not being kind to us today.”

“It’s of no matter. I won’t dissolve under this brief shower, and I am so pleased you brought us to see it, my lord. It will be quite perfect, thank you,” Lady Elizabeth said with a warm smile, laying her hand on his arm in a friendly gesture. Maxwell darted a glance at her husband, who regarded him, his placid expression daring him to read anything into the touch beyond her gratitude and a naturally welcoming nature. Maxwell damned his own vile reputation, smiled and handed the lady up into the carriage.

“Forgive me, Mr Demarteau. Let’s get your wife out of the cold. I have an excellent brandy, which I believe will chase the worst of it away.”

Mr Demarteau nodded his agreement. “I’ll not refuse such an offer,” he said politely.

Maxwell hesitated and then decided to give being honest a go. It was something else he was working on, and it had produced mixed results thus far. He did not discount the possibility of getting his nose broken, but it was clear to him this man was well aware of his reputation and feared he would make inappropriate advances to his wife given the opportunity. “You’re a lucky man, Mr Demarteau. Lady Elizabeth is quite remarkable. I’ve met no one like her before. Beautiful and clever, and so very determined.”

“That she is,” Demarteau replied, the tone of his voice at once a warning, and giving Maxwell the distinct impression the man could not quite believe his own luck.

“I envy you,” Maxwell admitted in a rush. “I think… I think I should like to marry, if I could find something close to what you two have.”

Demarteau’s expression relaxed, and his smile was somewhat warmer this time. “Then this new Lord Vane is here to stay? I can’t say I shall miss the old one.”

Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck, his expression wry. “Yes. I’m still finding my way, to be honest, and I am aware I have many bridges to mend, and some that are beyond repair, but I mean to do everything I can to make amends. I know you’ve no reason to think well of me. The gossip mill never ceases and I cannot pretend most of it isn’t true.”

Demarteau shrugged. “We all have a past. Make amends where you can, and marry a woman who will love you despite everything and hold you to account. Perhaps you’ll sleep at night. Worked for me,” he added with rather more honesty than Maxwell had been expecting.

“I’d like to try that,” Maxwell said, meaning it. “She doesn’t have a sister, does she?” he added with a grin.

“She does, as I’m sure you are aware, my lord,” Demarteau said, laughing.

“Oh, call me Maxwell. No need to be formal if we’re to be working so closely together.”

“Right you are, Max, old man. In which case, I’m Nic,” he said with a grin that showed his teeth, before climbing into the carriage.

Maxwell snorted, feeling rather encouraged, and followed him inside.

Chapter 2

Louis,

Eliza is as puzzled as you it appears. I have asked her to discover the reason, but I cannot press the matter without revealing my interest. If you would let me confide in her, I might have better luck, though I hesitate to do so.