It felt as though he had spent an eternity wandering aimlessly. “The journey has been rather hazardous, treacherous in places.” He glanced at Juliet. “But the discovery of a rich, new land has made every miserable moment worthwhile.”
“Then all is as it should be.”
“Indeed.” Devlin leant forward, touched Juliet’s knee and shook her gently. “Juliet. Wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered beneath her lids.
“Juliet,” he whispered, but she did not wake from her slumber. Devlin came to kneel beside her, took her chin gently between his fingers and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
She sucked in a breath, and her eyes flew open. “Devlin. Has … has something happened?”
“Your father is currently prowling about downstairs. Do you wish to remain here, or shall we go and catch the blighter in the act?”
She shook her head, blinked rapidly and pushed the blanket off her shoulders. “No, we will go together.” Her gaze moved languidly from Devlin’s face. Her head shot back, and she gasped as she locked eyes with Dariell. “Mr Dariell, I did not see you there.”
Dariell inclined his head. “Forgive me, madame. I shall return to my chamber if my services are no longer required.”
Juliet stared at Dariell for a moment. “Perhaps you should accompany us.” She cast Devlin a look that begged for his support. “You have a way of seeing things others do not. When it comes to my father, there is no telling what he might do.”
“If that is what you wish,” Dariell agreed.
“I have no objection.” Devlin stood and took hold of Juliet’s hand. “Let us see if the baron has had any luck finding the letters he so desperately seeks.”
The long-case clock chimed three. Devlin, Juliet and Dariell all hurried down the stairs before the vibrations ceased. They had no need to hunt their prey. The faint glow of light creeping out beneath the study door alerted them to their quarry.
They tiptoed to the door and stopped outside.
Dariell clutched Devlin’s arm. “I shall wait here,” he mouthed silently.
Devlin nodded. He gripped Juliet’s hand and waited for her nod of approval before pushing open the door gently and padding lightly into the room.
A lit candle stood in its holder on the large oak desk.
Seated in Devlin’s chair while rummaging in drawers left deliberately unlocked, it wasn’t until the baron heard the click of the door closing that he realised he was not alone.
Devlin smiled. “Found what you’re looking for?” Arrogance dripped from every word. “Are there any cupboards you wish me to unlock? Perhaps you might like to ferret around in my wife’s bedchamber, too.”
The baron froze.
It took a few seconds for him to gather his composure and paste his usual arrogant smirk. “Your housekeeper refused to return those foolish letters Hannah wrote. You cannot blame a man for taking advantage of an opportunity.”
“That was three years ago.” It took every ounce of willpower Devlin possessed not to put an immediate end to the baron’s antics. Not to end the man’s life as quickly as one snuffed out a candle. “What makes you think my brother kept them?”
“Ambrose told him the letters were here,” Juliet said. Her palm was hot and clammy as she gripped Devlin’s hand. “And the baron told me earlier that the letters were too incriminating to destroy.”
The baron slammed the desk drawer shut and sneered. “I should have known you were not to be trusted.”
Devlin felt the slight tremble in Juliet’s hand. Thoughts of leaping over the old desk and ramming his fist into the baron’s face pushed to the fore. But for once in his life, violence would not help to solve this matter.
Unable to satisfy the ravaging hunger for revenge, Devlin opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reprimand, but Juliet spoke first.
“I am loyal to my husband, to the man who has taken better care of me than you have done these last six years.” Her voice broke, but she did not shed a single tear. “I am loyal to the man who will father my children, children who will know what it means to be loved by their parents.”
The words touched Devlin like nothing else before.
The image of him surrounded by little ones tugging on his hand, begging for his attention, infused his mind and body with an intense euphoria. Juliet was right. When Devlin hated he did so with a bloodthirsty hunger to rival the devil’s. But when he loved, it was with a deep, abiding passion.
“What is it with the Drake men?” The baron’s words dragged Devlin from his reverie. Contempt radiated from every fibre of the lord’s being. “Hannah was like a dog with a bone, wouldn’t let go of the notion that Ambrose might change his mind, might agree to marry her despite his thorough disrespect.”