"Only to the park across the road," he replied. "Your husband can have no qualms about that, can he?"
"You don't know Malloryn very well if you think that," she replied dryly, as she accepted his arm.
"Ah, so I was right." Devoncourt's blue eyes softened as he stroked his hand over hers. "It was not by your design to give me the cut direct the other night."
What the hell could she say?
Malloryn had warned her away from Devoncourt, away from all of this, but she couldn't quite admit to Devoncourt why.
Adele let herself smile somewhat bitterly. "Apparently, while my husband might have no interest in touching me, he's quite territorial about other men venturing too close."
"Typical."
"Precisely my thought," she said.
"Did you ask your father about Malloryn's... nighttime escapades?"
"And have him throw my marriage in my face? I think not, my lord."
Devoncourt seemed to be trying to read her expression. "You should have, you know. You might have learned a thing or two about him."
"You seem awfully interested in my husband," she chided, rapping him on the arm with her fingers.
"One always studies one's opponent. And I never know when I may learn a deadly weakness to exploit."
"Are you going to fight a duel over me?"
"Perhaps. Would you like that?"
"What young woman isn't flattered by such attentions?" she replied smoothly.
Devoncourt's thumb brushed against her palm; an indecent gesture that sent a shiver through her. Despite what she might think of him, he was good at what he did.
"Would you meet with me again?"
"I am meeting with you," she pointed out.
"Privately?"
"I've told you—"
"He doesn't have to know." Devoncourt boldly tucked one of her curls behind her ear, his heated gaze darkening. "I know you spend your nights alone, cherub. All alone in that big house while your husband gads about London doing... whatever he damned well feels like doing. It's not as though he keeps track of your schedule, does he? You could slip out for the night. Tell him it's a ball."
She'd promised Malloryn she'd stay out of this, but what if she could somehow twist Devoncourt to her plans?
Malloryn had already admitted he had nothing in regards to the SOG.
"What did you have in mind?" Adele whispered, looking up into Devoncourt's cerulean eyes.
This time his smile touched every inch of his face.
Reaching inside his coat, he produced a gold-rimmed invitation embossed with a rising sun.
Her gaze locked on the logo.
"What is it for?"
"A secret gathering. A masquerade, of course. There'll be music. Dancing. Little alcoves where one can steal away privately, if one has the need for it."
"A ball?" she replied cynically.
"Not a ball. It's a little more... exclusive. A little more like the old days, when blue bloods were allowed off their leashes."
"That sounds dangerous."
"Oh, it is," he purred. "But not for you. All I want to show you is another side of life. You have no liking for your husband, do you?"
"He's a cold, merciless prig," she said mechanically.
"And your marriage is barely that."
"So you keep saying."
"What if you could free yourself from such a marriage?" His voice lowered.
"The last thing I want is a divorce." Her heart started beating a little faster. Because she knew he wasn't speaking of divorce at all.
And suddenly the stakes were higher than they'd ever been.
What if someone was plotting Malloryn's murder?
Could she get Devoncourt to tell her more?
"There are other ways to end a marriage," he replied, "And as I said, Malloryn has many enemies."
Her heart skipped a beat.
It wasn't an outright confession, but when it came to someone murdering her husband, she wasn't about to take any chances.
"The only other way that I can see is widowhood." Each word came out slowly. "I'm not quite certain I'm ready for that, and all it entails. He isn't... cruel."
Devoncourt seemed to hesitate. "There are rumors he's very fond of his mistress. A love match, they say."
She didn't bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "He wouldn't be the first aristocrat to prefer his mistress's bed."
"Yes, but she's been saying she doesn't expect him to be at your beck and call for very much longer. She'll have him all to herself."
"What does that mean?"
Devoncourt gave her a frank look. "All he has to do is declare you mentally unfit, my dear. He owns you. And it's common knowledge the marriage didn't come about of his own volition."
Despite the fact she knew he was lying, a shiver ran down her spine. "You're saying Malloryn might lock me away?"
It was a very real fear every woman in the Echelon faced.
Her father had even threatened her with it, if she didn't apologize to Lord Corvus for slashing his face with the little knife she carried up her sleeve.
"You would be out of Malloryn's way, and he would be free to spend his nights where he willed it."
No point reminding Devoncourt that he himself had told her that her husband was already spending his nights where he wanted. He must think her an utter fool. Anger stirred, lashed to a tempest by both Malloryn's request that she forget all this nonsense, and now Devoncourt's dismissal of her intelligence.
"What should I do?" she whispered, making her eyes very big and very round.
His hand immediately softened against her cheek. "I would protect you, cherub. I promise I would love you if you let me—"
"A lot of men have made me promises. Why should yours be any different?"
Devoncourt seemed momentarily taken aback.
Sorry, it seems I haven't quite swallowed your lies completely, dearest. "You ask me to put my faith in one man when I dare not trust another? You have no claim over me. No power over him. You ask me to walk into ruin with no guarantees of my safety. How can I beat the Duke of Malloryn? How can you destroy him? He's so powerful."
"He's not completely invincible." There was a faint snarl to his voice.