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.
"Well, you certainly weren't interested in kissing me." Adele's lips thinned. "And now I'm not even certain if he was. I hate being made a fool of." Pushing to her feet, she paced the room, looking thoroughly vexed. "But what did he want with me? Was I merely a plaything? A means to draw blood from you without a direct confrontation? A jibe?"
"He could have been after information."
"Because I know so much," she said, a little bitterly.
Malloryn didn't respond. He'd said it only to be polite.
"So what now?" Adele demanded, turning on him in a rush.
He'd have to remember that: She might be furious, but she thought swiftly on her feet.
Rather like the night she'd trapped him into marriage.
"Now? I put you in a carriage and send you home. Life goes on as if this.... None of this happened. Stay away from Devoncourt, but continue your life as usual. I would encourage you to make a disparaging remark or two about me in public. Laugh and dance. Flirt. Spend half my fortune—"
"In short, be a good little duchess and bat my eyelashes at people."
He paused, warned by her tone.
"Damn it, Malloryn! I could help," she cried, her eyes flashing with determination. Despite everything, he couldn't help rousing again at the sight of her like this. All fierce and determined, a warrior in silk. "From the sounds of it, you have no idea who might be an SOG sympathizer or a Rising Son. You're rarely seen in society. Too high and mighty to hobnob with the rest of the elite, according to most sources. But I know the Echelon like the back of my hand.
"And if Lord Devoncourt belongs to Balfour, then why not let me get him right where you need him? He thinks he's charming me—"
"You are not getting involved," he said sharply, pushing to his feet. "This isn't a game, Adele. This is dangerous. The last thing you want to do is make yourself a target."
"My entire goddamned life since I entered the Echelon has been dangerous. Do you think this is the first time I've faced a man who could kill me? Why do you think I got involved in trading hemlock rings in the first place? It was the only means I had of striking back—"
"While I won't pretend I don't know what you're speaking of, this is a little different than dealing with privileged lordlings who think they can take whatever they want." He forced his tone to harden. "You were there when the baroness shot herself. Balfour put a mind-altering device in her head. He made her kill herself and she knew it. She knew there was no hope of saving herself even as she pulled the trigger. I will not add your name to my list. No. My final answer is no—"
"But—"
"And if you continue arguing, then I will simply ensure you have not the means to put yourself in danger."
"What are you going to do? Lock me away?"
"If. Necessary."