Page 41 of A Devil in Silk (Tales from The Burnished Jade #3)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Clara woke to someone shaking her arm and repeating her name in urgent tones. Startled, she blinked to clear her vision.

Elsa’s white-blonde hair shone like a beacon in the darkness, though her strained expression spoke of alarm. “Clara,” she whispered. “Thank heavens you’re awake. You were sleeping so soundly, I was beginning to?—”

“Elsa?” Clara pushed up on her elbows, the cool air brushing her bare skin. With a gasp, she clutched the sheet to her breasts. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right? Has something happened to Daniel?”

Elsa’s hand came to rest on Clara’s cheek, the touch a silent apology.

“No. He’s downstairs. Mr Daventry told us why you were visiting Cheltenham, so we drove here directly.

We know what happened at the seance, that you’re searching for a murderer.

” She paused, a tense beat before the storm. “We know everything.”

Everything? The word cut through her, sharp as a blade to the ribs. Not from fear of a callous killer, but of what her own brother might do.

Clara’s gaze darted to the space beside her in bed, cold certainty settling into her bones.

“Where is Bentley?” His clothes were gone. Elsa had come straight to his chamber, which could mean only one thing. “If Daniel harms him, there’ll be the devil to pay.”

Elsa’s manner shifted from loving sister-in-law to protective wife. “Daniel would never do anything to hurt you or Bentley.”

“Then why does this feel like an ambush?”

“You cannot blame him for being concerned,” Elsa replied bluntly. “We hear you’re a suspect in two murders, and we arrive to find you in Bentley’s bed. Men have complicated ways of dealing with dishonour, and you must allow?—”

“Dishonour?” With no thought for her nakedness, she flung back the sheets and snatched her nightgown from the floor. “There’s nothing sordid or shameful about my relationship with Bentley.”

Making love to him had been the most exhilarating experience of her life. Love lived in every fevered caress. Respect dwelt in every passionate kiss. He’d become her light in the darkness, and she’d sooner be damned than let Daniel harm him.

“Where are they?” she demanded.

“Are you in love with him?”

Anger flared as she threw on her nightclothes. “Of course I’m in love with him. I’m not here to complete a task on my list. There isn’t an adventure on earth that compares to those I share with Bentley.”

Elsa stood, her smile stretching. “Good. Then I suggest you tell him so before Daniel shoots him.”

The news hit like a stray bullet. “What?”

“You wished to witness a duel. If you’re quick, you may arrive in time to save him.”

Panic surged through her. She stumbled to the window, wrenched back the curtain, and wiped mist off the pane. In the yard below, shadowy figures stood in a tense line, moonlight glinting on pistols laid out in an open wooden box.

For an instant her heart ceased to beat.

A second later, she was out of the room and running down the corridor. She burst into the stable yard barefoot, mud squelching beneath her toes, though that was the least of her worries.

A young groom pointed towards the gate in the brick wall, excitement in his step, lit lantern in hand. “Best hurry if you want to see the duel, miss. They’ve gone to the walled garden. Mr Wilson warned ’em pistol fire would scare the horses.”

She lifted the hem of her nightgown and charged after the boy, Elsa at her heels.

The air in the garden was thick with the scent of summer flowers, yet Clara could scarcely breathe. Moonlight spilled across the wide gravel path where the men stood back to back, pistols raised, boots crunching as they began to pace.

Lord Rothley kept count, his commanding voice carrying in the stillness. “Five … six …” He faltered on seven.

Olivia had swept in through the archway, her pelisse thrown over her nightgown, her red hair tumbling loose about her shoulders.

The sight of her seemed to strip the strength from Lord Rothley’s voice. “Eight …” he managed, coughing once to mask the lapse.

“Stop this!” Clara darted forward as the men turned, planting herself in front of Bentley. His pistol was poised, but with a curse he wrenched it aside, the barrel swinging harmlessly toward the path as his free arm locked around her.

She pressed her head to his chest. His heart hammered so wildly she wanted to weep. Lady Rutland had warned her about the dangers of being reckless. Yet she knew the greater peril lay in letting fear stand in the way of love.

“Step aside, Clara,” Bentley whispered, his lips brushing her hair with heartbreaking tenderness. “It will all be over in a moment.”

She looked up at him, suddenly aware she had forgotten to wear her patch, but again she didn’t care. “This is all my fault.”

“Neither of us is to blame.” He bent his head and kissed her blind eye and scarred brow, so lightly her heart twisted into knots.

Tears gathered behind her eyes. “Did you add kissing scars to your list?”

“It’s an encyclopaedia, not a list,” he said softly. “I would need more than one lifetime to experience the things I long to do with you. But now you must step aside and let your brother fire.”

Fire? Had he lost his wits?

“No. If roles were reversed, what would you do?” She reached up and cupped his cheek, her voice breaking. “You’re the love of my life. I would protect you with my dying breath.”

He inhaled deeply, his eyes brightening. “Say that again.”

“If roles were?—”

“No. The part where you said you love me.”

Her throat tightened, but she had nothing to hide from him. “You’re the love of my life. The dream I wake for, the memory I cling to, the adventure I never want to end. I don’t want to live without you, Bentley.”

The words left her trembling. She had bared herself completely, offered him her heart without shield or mask, and there was no taking it back.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if her words erased all doubt. “I love you. I’m in love with you. It has always been you, Clara. No one but you.”

Bentley held her close, his mouth claiming hers. The kiss was deep, soul-deep, filling every hollow place inside her with the certainty of his love. For a moment there was nothing but him, the taste of him, the strength of his arms, the promise in his touch.

Until the crack of pistol fire shattered the illusion. They both flinched, breaking apart. Daniel stood ten paces away, pistol raised to the sky, smoke curling from the barrel.

“I believe I’ve made my point,” he said, his voice calm but resolute.

Striding forward, he clasped Bentley’s shoulder, the decade-long friendship intact.

“I’m taking Clara back to London tonight.

We leave in fifteen minutes. I’ll call on you tomorrow.

We’ll discuss how we proceed in a respectable manner. ”

Clara turned to her brother. His dark eyes no longer looked as dangerous as they had a moment ago. “This isn’t a ploy to force me to leave? I have your word you speak in earnest?”

“I’ve never lied to you, Clara.” His expression softened, though his tone allowed no argument. “There’s a murderer at large. I’ll not risk your safety. Not when you have personal ties to this case. Rothley told me what happened at the seminary. That Miss Forbes’ family live in London.”

She didn’t want to think about the snippet of information the matron found in the files. She wanted to argue and beg to stay the night, but knew better than to test her brother’s patience. “Very well. I’ll go with you. But you’ll let me see Bentley tomorrow.”

Bentley’s arm tightened around her as if reluctant to let her leave. “Then I ride behind,” he said firmly, meeting Daniel’s gaze. “I’ll not see her travel unguarded.”

Daniel sighed, the sound of brotherly exasperation. “So be it. We’ll meet in the yard in fifteen minutes.” He strode away, Elsa threading her fingers through his, holding fast as though sharing his burden.

Lord Rothley offered to escort Olivia inside, relieving Bentley of his pistol as he did so. The tension in the air was stretched thin, perilously close to breaking.

“We should go,” Clara said. “I’ll not give Daniel cause to challenge you again. And he’s right. We’re not safe while a killer roams free.”

She made to step back, but Bentley drew her tighter against his chest. “I’m sure your brother can spare us a minute’s grace.”

His lips found hers, kissing her as if they might be parted for months, as if every breath could be their last.

Yet even in his arms, whispers of the curse crept through her mind. With every new clue came another chilling revelation. These deaths were somehow tied to her mother. And the killer would not stop until Miss Forbes was avenged.

Bruton Street, Mayfair

Bentley woke to the dim light of late afternoon.

He had slept for a few hours, though not nearly enough to ease his weary bones.

His shoulder throbbed from shifting a fallen tree on the Oxford Road, yet the ache only drew a smile.

While Dalton busied himself with ropes and pulleys, Clara had tugged Bentley behind the carriage and claimed his mouth in a rushed frenzy.

Proof life with her would never be dull.

The memory stirred something deeper. Nothing compared to the moment she stepped between him and danger at the duel, declaring he was the love of her life. Once matters were settled with Dalton, Bentley would plan an outing worthy of her adventurous spirit and ask her to be his wife.

A balloon ride came to mind as he dressed, something daring enough to excite her. He could already picture her laughter carried on the wind as they drifted high above the city. The thought stayed with him as he fastened his coat and descended the stairs.

Hockton appeared in the hall, a slight tremble in his hand as he offered the salver. “A letter from Mr Dalton, my lord. And a note from Mr Daventry, delivered by a penny boy five minutes ago.”