Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) Page 4

  “Everything okay, Miss Jo?”

  She gave a genuine smile to the one before her. Pug. With his intense blue eyes and thick dark hair, she knew he was going to be breaking hearts. He had already gained the height of a man even if he were a mere fourteen.

  “Yes, Pug. Thank you for asking.” She reached out and touched the side of his face. “You are so sweet for inquiring about me.”

  He flushed and she dropped her hand, thinking perhaps she had made him uncomfortable with her actions.

  “Get back in here, Jo,” Trystan’s demand came from behind her.

  Pug moved faster than she did, skirting her and placing himself between her and Tryst. Turning she frowned at the scowl on Trystan’s face. Blue eyes slid to her and a mocking grin flashed before vanishing, leaving him expressionless. With a sigh, she maneuvered around Pug and went toward the man who threw her life into such turmoil, sending him a glare. At his side, she peered over her shoulder and gave a glowering Pug an honest smile.

  “You really need to stop ordering me around,” she said as they walked back to the room.

  He did not speak just clamped a hand on an arm and directed her to a settee and sat beside her, crowding her. She jerked free, struggling to control her emotions. Trystan leaned forward and grabbed one of the sheets before thrusting it at her.

  “Are you sure you saw this?”

  “Yes.” She looked at the symbol before putting the paper beside her.

  “Where?” His question was low and sent chills up her spine with the lack of emotion.

  “I told you. At the museum. It was interesting so I drew it.”

  He did not say anything else so she looked at him and nearly shrank back from the cold mask of fury on his face. Concerned she glanced to Colin and Najja. Their expression mirrored hers but Colin’s was angry as well.

  “Did someone show it to you?”

  Tryst’s question drew her attention back to him. She shook her head, realizing this matter was personal—extremely personal—to him. “No. I spied it on a man’s wrist. He reached out to take something from the man he was with and his sleeve slid up.”

  “So you drew it? Damn it, Jo, do you not ever think before you do things? Or do you jump in with your eyes closed?” He jumped up and shouted down at her.

  Her restraint crumpled, like a dead leaf beneath a boot heel. She shoved to her feet, face aflame with the shame of his censure. “I am an artist. I see something I like, I draw it. And I do think before I do things.”

  Crack! She slapped him hard across the face. “I thought that through. Now get the hell out of my house!”

  She ran and bolted for her room.

  Trystan shook with the force of his anger. How could she be so foolish? He expelled a sharp breath and numerous curses. Nothing else had mattered once he had seen the sheet which had the symbol for The Alchemist on it. That had been his entire focus. He saw flashes of his murdered team and the rest of the patrons at that tavern. Could not forget the mocking smile of the bastard. Then there was the shame he had failed his men. His friends.

  Seven years he had been waiting to find this person and avenge the deaths of his friends. He just had not been prepared for it to circle around Jo.

  “I will check on the children.”

  Najja’s voice an intrusion to his ranting and mental trip. Snapping his head around, he spotted the purple fabric of Najja’s dress as she disappeared out of the parlor. He was alone with Colin.

  “How bad is it?” His best friend asked.

  Trystan collapsed on the settee Jo had just vanquished. His cheek still stung from the strength of her swing.

  “She is a marked woman, Colin, if this is true. The Alchemist…” He ran a hand over his face. “She needs to be protected.” I have to get word to Jack.

  “I thought The Alchemist was dead.”

  He fingered the scar on his jaw, feeling the phantom burn of the night it happened. “So did I. I sent him to the gaol. Watched him hang and apparently killed him again.” Apparently, he had been wrong.

  “A protégé?”

  He had not a clue. “Perhaps. But these attempts have been very real on her life.” Unable to sit still, he shoved to his feet. “I will get some protection arranged for her.”

  Colin leaned back and stroked his chin. “Do you really think it wise?”

  Was he kidding? “I cannot leave her unprotected while I go after him, Colin.”

  “I meant, do you think it best to assign another man to be around Jo? To keep her safe?”

  Jealousy tore through his gut with the mere thought. The smirk on Colin’s face told him, his friend knew of his feelings for the spirited and lively Josephine Adrys. “Yes,” he ground out.

  “Okay. I am sure Major McCutcheon would be glad to do it.”

  He snarled at his friend who merely lifted a black brow in response. “I will get someone with experience.”

  “He has been to war, Tryst. He has plenty.”

  “No,” he said adamantly. “She would bat her lashes at him and get her way.

  Colin laughed. “I have never seen Jo do such a thing.”

  Neither had he but he was not about to admit it.

  “I will head back, inform Jack, and return with someone. Can you keep an eye on her until I get back?”

  “Of course.”

  “And why do I need protection? Never mind. Why are you still in my house? I told you to leave!”

  Trystan looked at her. Her stance fierce and warrior like. Jo’s blue eyes shot flames at him. Lord help him, he wanted to kiss her. Again and again. All over.

  “If Jo is in danger, I will protect her.” Najja entered the conversation.

  “No.” This from Colin. He rose and went to Najja’s side. Pug and Alex appeared as well. “I cannot allow this. I will not allow it. You are carrying our next child. This is no time for you to be a bodyguard.”

  Trystan slipped his gaze to Jo to see how she took the news. Her anger segued into pure joy and she hugged her friend with a squeal of honest pleasure. “I am so happy for you, Najja. Colin is right, your first priority is your family.”

  “You are my family, Jo.” The women hugged again.

  “I think this is crazy. There is no reason for anyone to be after me. It is all nothing. I will stay out here and avoid London until my parents return.”

  Tryst ignored her, knowing she was his weakness. Now was not the time to get drawn into her fight. Still, he had to force himself not to look at her. Focusing on Colin’s face, disregarding the amusement in his friend’s eyes, Trystan continued to talk. “No more than four days, Colin.”

  His friend nodded and Trystan headed for the door, the etching Jo drew in his fist. He paused to pull on his coat—still wet—grab his cane and halt before Jo. Her amazing blue eyes burned with fire and he could clearly identify the stubborn set of her jaw.

  Words burned his tongue and he longed to say them to her but he refrained, instead brushing past her and out to his carriage. Thankfully, his driver was waiting and he swung in the saddle of his stallion who had been tied to the back. “Follow me back to London.” At the man’s nod, he set his heels to his stallion and they rode off into the rain.

  He stopped to rest his horse the bare minimum before pressing on. Wet and sodden he reined his horse in before Jack’s dreary building. A waiting footman took the reins from him.

  “Rub him down well and see he gets a good measure of oats. He has earned it.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  With a final pat to his horse, he pushed through into the house and strode to the normal room, uncaring of the water he left behind, trailing in his wake. Without knocking, he entered the back room. Jack sat at his desk, writing. He paused and glanced up. The man arched a silvered brow at the intrusion.

  Reaching into his coat, Trystan withdrew the paper he had taken great care to keep dry. Silent he tossed it on the desk.

  Jack opened it and stared. Even though he said nothing, Trystan could tell
of his displeasure. His boss stood, went and poured two drinks, then handed him one. They drank together after Trystan shed his wet overcoat.

  “This is what she saw?”

  “Yes. She needs protection. I thought Derek.”

  That brow shot up again. “Not you?” Jack returned to his seat. “You do not seem to be any worse for it after getting the drawing.”

  Only because you cannot see inside me. “I am going after The Alchemist.” He refused to rise to the bait.

  Jack stared and leaned back, lacing his fingers together. The door opened and the butler walked over and bent down to hear what Jack told him. Then left.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Trystan frowned. “Are you telling me to let it go? That filth has killed our friends. Our brothers.”

  “I am saying no such thing.” He pursed his lips before nodding. “I would prefer him alive, but—” He held up a hand. “I know that might not be possible.”

  That was the damn truth. “I should go.”

  “Yes. I will send Cam out to protect her.”

  His heart stuttered a bit. “Cam?” He had much rather it be Derek. Cam was a marquess who loved women, Derek was a bit older, still sharp, and on his game but one he did not have to worry about trying to think of a way to get Jo into bed. Cam on the other hand was a rake of the worst kind.

  “Yes, Cam. I think he is the best choice.”

  “I can escort him out there.” That way I can have a talk with him on the way.

  Jack’s smile was not even remotely kind. “No need. You have your job to do and Cam has his.”

  He hesitated. “I told them I would return with her guard.”

  “Then you misspoke. Cam can handle this. You claim you want nothing to do with it, so get going.”

  Trystan swallowed his scathing retort. Jack would never budge. He jerked around and left, his house the destination. He had his own things to do, not worry about Jo or which unmarried, handsome man was protecting her. Once he had reached his house, his mood had sunk even more.

  He kept a minimum staff around for he was well used to and adept at doing things on his own. Once the water had been delivered for his bath, he was on his own until he rang for someone. There was no dawdling, he made short work of it, dressed, and began to pack. From secret compartments, he pulled out weapons and began stowing them in his bag and on his person.

  A dry black cloak over his shoulders, he hastened down to the first floor and located his butler.

  “I am on my way out for a while, Mills.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  He never had to say any more. Mills had always served men who served the Crown. A single nod and he was on his way. A horse waited, readied for him and he set off at a breakneck pace to Jack’s. Once there, he exchanged horses from his polished gelding, appropriate for a viscount, to his stallion who had seen him through so much. An ugly brute when compared to his gelding but he had stamina and speed plus a level headedness which was hard to find.

  “Hey Ptolemy,” he said, patting the sorrel on his neck before transferring his things to the saddle.

  The stallion whickered and pawed the ground. Items stored he grabbed a fistful of lighter brown mane and vaulted easily into the well-worn saddle. Tugging on the brim of his hat, he set his heels to Ptolemy’s sides and they were off, easily swallowed up by the cloudy, moonless night. His destination the place the other killings had happened.

  § § §

  After three weeks, he returned discouraged and frustrated to Jack’s. Tired and dirty, he strode up to the front door. The news he uncovered had been disturbing.

  Jack was in the hall as he entered and paused in his discussion with Captain Royce Bottomley. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

  Cranky, Trystan bit back his retort, well aware Jack was gruff. Not to mention this was not a job for those who needed hand holding or coddling.

  “Those marks were left as well. One was killed with some sort of poison while the other had taken a knife to the back.”

  “So The Alchemist has resurfaced.” Jack shoved a hand through his hair. “I need your men here, Royce.”

  “Right away.” The one armed man wheeled around and headed off.

  “You look like shite, Trystan. Are you going to the Duchess of Haversham’s party?”

  He wanted a bath and bed, not necessarily in that order. His plans in no way included attending a social function.

  “No.”

  Jack nodded. “Very well. You should get some rest, you are no good to me half dead.” Relieved he nodded. Jack continued, “If this is how it is looking there is the chance this person is trying to ferret out those who work for the Crown.”

  He had thought about that. Did not stop his desire to put it out there who he worked for just to get the bastard coming after him. He knew Jack would not go for that.

  “Which means Miss Adrys is even more of a target. In the past seven years no one has seen him, until her.”

  Jack’s phrase stopped him cold. Fear slithered through him at the thought of any harm coming to Jo. His Jo. She had seen the man with the mark. He closed his eyes on the mental image of her lying lifeless on the ground, blood blossoming across her chest. Sightless eyes which had been so full of life staring past him with—

  “Wilkes!”

  The sharp tone released him from the unpleasant throe he had been in. “What?”

  “Pay attention.”

  “I need to protect Jo.”

  The man’s brow arched. “Miss Adrys is very well protected.”

  Tryst stared at his handler and blinked. “I need some rest. I will be back.” Without waiting for anything else to be said, he walked back out and sent for his carriage that sat housed here from a previous mission. He rode back to his town home with the curtains drawn.

  Once home he called for a bath to relax his tired and sore muscles. He ran some things over in his mind and tried to figure out how this person could be The Alchemist.

  Did I not kill the real one? His thoughts continued as he dried off and dressed. Could all of these deaths be my fault?

  Seven years had passed and he scowled as he sat in his large leather chair, legs sprawled before him. On silent feet, Mills entered with footmen in tow. They removed the tub and one placed a tray laden with food beside him.

  “Thank you, Mills, but I was going to go to bed.”

  “Forgive me but I thought you were attending the ball.”

  Placing his gaze on his butler, he waited for him to continue. He did not say anything else so Trystan asked, “Why?”

  “No reason, my lord.” He waved the footmen out.

  “Mills,” he warned.

  “I merely thought you would be checking on Miss Adrys.”

  Jo. His heart pounded. “Did you now?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Mills’ eyes twinkled. “She has after all been in the news.”

  “What?”

  “She was attacked in Hyde Park.”

  His pulse skyrocketed. Safe and well protected. Like hell she was. “Is she—”

  “By all accounts she is fine. I have not spoken to her, but I have learned she is not any worse for the wear.”

  Relief swamped him. He knew Mills had his own sources for news, sometimes the servants knew more. “And she will be going tonight?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He had to see for himself. “I will go.”

  “Yes, my lord. I will have your attire ready.”

  Knowing Mills, he already did. “Wake me in a few hours.” In the back of his mind, he wondered how Mills knew he would be back by now.

  “Very good, my lord.” Mills retreated.

  “Some days, I wonder who really runs this place.” He drank the tea given and headed for his bed, stripping off his clothes as he went. A groan slid free as he collapsed on his bed.

  Later on that night, he descended the stairs of his town home, dressed impeccably in black. A nod to his butler and he was in his carriag
e on his way to the ball. He felt better; the four hours of uninterrupted sleep in a secure location had done wonders for him.

  Late like usual, he waved off the announcement of his arrival and strolled in. He skirted the edge of the ballroom and frowning slightly when he did not see his target.