Page 7 of Greed: The Savage (Seven Deadly Sins #7)

That didn’t get the rise she sought. “After you, Addien?” The instant he released her arm, she grabbed the place where he’d wrapped his fingers tight—her skin still maintained the heat of his touch.

His hold hadn’t been the punishing, cruel one of men and women who’d laid their hands on her in violence, but this heart was just as cold.

As Malric shepherded her into the earl’s office, her stomach churned.

That twisting and turning of her belly grew worse the moment she found Dynevor seated—behind his desk.

The sacking place!

Even as Malric moved forward, Addien hung back.

I’m going to be sick.

Lord Dynevor looked past the marquess and found Addien with his gaze.

Oh, god.

Malric followed his employer’s stare over.

Addien’s throat worked.

If he orders me…if he demands I move…I will die…

Her legs knocked too bad to move an inch.

Malric nudged his chin up.

Stunned, Addien briefly forgot her fear.

He was telling Addien to lift her head.

Surely not…

Nothing made sense this day. How did he waver between helpful and haughty?

Even if it came from the blighter, Malric, Addien chose to take that token of support. She joined him at the foot of Dynevor’s desk—and waited.

Lord Dynevor, the all-imperial king of this underworld empire built on sins, opulence, and the profane regarded them.

By the gentleman’s hard, blank countenance, word had already reached him.

Addien’s belly did another dangerous flip.

“Well, out with it.”

She couldn’t speak a single word if she tried. Not that Addien needed to.

With that same general tone he’d adopted when going over his expectations with Addien, Malric delivered his report to the proprietors without inflection. From Addien’s refusal to hand over her cloak, to the quarrel—at least Malric didn’t call it a fight—with the butler, he left nothing out.

When he’d finished tallying her sins, she wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t. He’d not embellished. He’d not expounded when there’d been plenty of room for him to do so.

Addien slid a glance his way.

His focus remained reserved for Dynevor.

“As I’d anticipated, given Miss Killoran has not been schooled in manners and the ways of the peerage, she was put at a great disadvantage today.

Which made her blameless for some of what happened in Lady Darrow’s household.

” He slid a regretful glance Addien’s way as he dealt the death knell. “But guilty in many other ways.”

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

“She will never be suited to a role that brings her into close contact with ladies.”

Addien couldn’t resist stealing a glance down at her feet. For certain, she hadn’t acquitted herself well this day.

“ Never seems an unrealistic stretch of time,” Dynevor said in response to one of his commanding officers. “Don’t you think, Snap?” A harsh twinkle danced in the mercenary proprietor’s steely eyes.

She’d already picked up his meaning, if Malric had not. Clinging to that which connected her to the earl who’d grown up amidst the same gang as Addien and so many others, she went full cockney in her response. “Oi, ye’ve mastered the fancy set. Ye give the rest of us guttersnipes ’ope, my lord.”

Hope grew when he emitted a raspy chuckle in return.

Malric, having realized his misstep, sought to course correct. “I did not mean to imply,” he began stiffly.

“Save your fancy apologies.” Dynevor shoved back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. “Ye know I don’t need them. Ye’ve given truths, and I pay ye for those truths.”

The light of hope within Addien began to slowly die. So that moment of camaraderie got her nowhere. It’d been half-witted thinking it would or even might.

Dynevor put another question to her. “You work with nobs here, Snap. Why so successful here and not out there today at Lady Darrow’s?”

Because Lady Darrow had been a vicious viper who, in between trying to rut with Malric, had spent the time looking down her haughty nose at Addien.

There was too much there for even Addien to understand.

“I’m not arrogant, Dynevor,” she said, carefully selecting her words, knowing each one mattered.

“As Malric here said”—she flung her head in the silent guard’s direction—“I’m not a lady, but I can learn how to behave with—” She had to swallow to force the rest out.

“Nobs.” Addien grimaced. “That is, the nobility,” she finished weakly.

The skeptical stare he passed over Addien didn’t do much for her dwindling prospects here.

Nor did the sigh he let out.

Her insides churned.

Dynevor fetched a cheroot that’d grown too much ash while the earl spoke and tapped the excess onto a silver plate. “I disagree with Thornwick’s opinion that you can’t learn to be a lady.”

He shouldn’t. Malric was right, she thought wretchedly.

“But I can’t dismiss the complaint that followed you back.” The earl clasped his cheroot tight between his lips and then released it from an impossibly sealed-looking corner. “Lady Darrow’s servant raced here to tell me you made the entire exchange unbearable.”

Addien, a vessel of misery and discomfort, squirmed in her spot.

Her uncompromising employer was far from done.

“She confirmed Malric’s report that you fought her butler, when he attempted to…” He looked at her strangely. “ Take your cloak ?”

This was the time in her life when Addien chose the coward’s way—she opted to take her meticulous employer’s question as a rhetorical.

Dynevor went to Malric for his opinion.

Her muscles wound tightly.

This is when he’d cast her to the dogs.

Malric’s next opinion brought Addien’s head flying up. “I’m not suggesting Miss Killoran’s position at the Devil’s Den be terminated.”

Her heart thumped fast.

Had Malric just vouched for Addien?

It was again Addien’s turn for Dynevor.

“I’m going to need an answer about your fight with the servant and your refusal to relinquish your cloak, Snap.”

Hell.

“This is where you say something, Snap,” the earl warned, the edge in his voice indicating he was fast growing impatient.

Addien tried to swallow several times; on the third attempt, her throat recalled the rhythm.

She felt Malric’s gaze pinned upon her but couldn’t bring herself to look in return. The heat of his focus bore through her; it demanded she face him.

The hell she would.

The minute she did, he’d see the plea laid bare in their depths. She’d sooner leave the Devil’s Den of her own free will than look to him—or anyone—for intervention.

“Snap?” Lord Dynevor’s words were wry, but the dagger-like edge of his voice told her to run. She was in danger.

Addien jumped.

When she trusted herself to speak without her voice trembling, she lifted her shoulders in an audacious shrug. “Oi didn’t much feel like takin’ off me cloak, my lord.”

Dynevor met her cheek with a silent, assessing look. “Answering this question seems like a cause unworthy of this amount of mettle, Snap.”

Addien lifted a single shoulder.

Under any other circumstances she’d agree. Admitting to venturing to Mayfair, and into a noblewoman’s fine residence, half-dressed, with her gown hanging open, was something she was too proud to admit.

It occurred to Addien that the demanding proprietor was desperately attempting to let her save her post.

But she couldn’t do that and save face. Just swallow your pride, Addien. That ain’t going to keep your belly full and your body warm in winters.

The sharp tap of Dynevor’s boots echoing on the floor indicated his lordship’s patience was fast flagging. “ Why wouldn’t you just give the butler your cloak and for the love o’ mike, Snap, why were you glaring at Thornwick the whole time?”

Now, that question was an easy one to answer. “Can’t help glaring at Malric,” she mumbled.

“ Malric ?” Dynevor traced his gaze over the room, tracking for the gentleman in question.

Addien nodded. “Aye, Malric. The gent at my side? Don’t like him.” She made the mistake of nodding in his direction.

The marquess winged an eyebrow in mock surprise, more playful than vexed. A suspicion leant further credence by the way the corners of his mouth twitched like he wavered between a smile and a laugh.

The ghost of a grin also happened upon the Earl of Dynevor’s lips.

Addien felt the renewed stirrings of hope this day.

Her instincts proved right.

Dynevor sighed. “If you’re going to work here, Snap, you have to fulfill the responsibilities assigned to you. That means, if you enter a lady’s household, you hand over your cloak to the waiting servant, like any lady would d—”

“But I’m not a lady!” she exploded. Addien slashed her palm in the air around them. “I’m a street r—”

She felt the silent weight of Malric’s eyes on her, remembered what he said when she referred to herself as a street rat, and hated that it mattered, and hated that he had her at sixes and sevens.

Humiliated at being exposed before not only her austere employer but the imperious marquess, Addien closed her eyes.

The fact that both gentlemen gave Addien leave to order her thoughts, like she was some kind of brainless, overwrought ninny, was mortifying.

But worst of all was the fact Addien did need a moment to get herself under control.

“Malric wasn’t wrong,” she said miserably. “I got no place with the nobility.”

“As long as you’re here with me, you are part of the nobility, Snap,” Dynevor said, nor did he tender that in a way meant to suggest they were family. Everything to the earl came down to business at the Devil’s Den. “I’m an earl. Thornwick’s a marquess, destined to be a duke.”

The universe would heap even more power upon a man more powerful than kings combined and that truth grated.

“Most of our patrons are peers, Snap. We’ve got ladies in our ranks now. Hell,” he said, taking a pull from his smoke, “I’ve even got Wakefield as an owner here. There’s no escaping it.”

She knew well enough to point out Dynevor sounded as peeved as Addien at those facts.

The earl took one last puff on his cheroot and then tamped it out on his dash.

“I understand you’re not comfortable in this new role.

I’m showing you mercy because I know this is an adjustment.

” A ripple of distaste crossed his face.

“It’s one I myself had to make. But going forward, you’re going to behave like you’re a lady out there.

” He dropped his elbows on the surface of his desk.

“The thrill-seeking ladies who want to safely take part in the games here at the club can’t do so if I’m sending a…

” Frustrated, he spanned a hand in Addien’s direction.

“A street rat into the homes of lords and ladies.”

“…In the work I do? The term rat is reserved for the contemptible sort. Sneaks. Informers. The disloyal. Is that how you see yourself, Addien? Is that how I should view you?”

Warmth found its place back inside her breast. Perhaps because it looked likely she’d retain her post after all. But she thought not.

For all the ways Dynevor looked out for the bastard-born orphans in his employ, it’d been Malric who’d defended Addien against self-disparagement today.

“In the future, Addien…” The earl sucked her into the present. “When you’re told to remove your cloak, you’ll do so, even if you don’t like the garments you’re wearing.” He gave her a pointed look.

Heart dropping, Addien followed his gaze…and his meaning.

Malric could out her at any moment. She waited for it and knew he’d relish it. He had the information about why, and he was oh so eager to lord it over her. She knew it.

Malric’s low baritone cut through the silence. “Miss Killoran will not make the same mistake again, Dynevor.”

Stunned at being saved for a second time by the marquess, Addien stared wide-eyed at him.

The earl narrowed his eyes on the gentleman more than ten years his senior. “Do you?”

“I’ll see to it.”

“And how will you see to it?” Dynevor probed.

“Going forward, Addien will answer to me,” the marquess said while Addien’s head spun. “I will see she’s properly instructed on how to behave in noble households.”

Malric stared at Addien. “Isn’t that right, Miss Killoran?”

She gave a shaky nod. “Y-yes.”

The moment she and Malric were excused, the marquess brought the door shut behind them.

At some point, Latimer had retired, leaving her and Malric alone. At least, for the moment.

She knew what she had to do.

She knew and utterly hated it.

God, she’d rather claw out her own eyes than thank this man for anything. But she was grateful and she owed him her thanks. It took everything within her, but Addien grudgingly got the words out. “Ye’ve got my thanks, Malric.”

“Aww, Addien.” Malric offered a tight-lipped smirk. “When you say it like that, I can almost believe you.”

She gritted her teeth.

The thing of it was, she did mean it. What did he want? For Addien to get on a knee? Kiss his feet? Heap praise upon his arrogant head?

“Ye got my thanks and that’s enough, Malric.” She slid a derisive glance over his person. “Do with it what you will.” What she’d given was more than most people from the Seven Dials gave.

Addien made her way unbidden.

“Oh, Addien ?”

She ground her feet to a standstill.

“There is one more thing. When I told Dynevor, I would see you schooled on manners and proper decorum, I wasn’t feeding him a line.

You have work coming. There’ll be no tests or trials.

I’m not your tutor. I’m not your governess,” he said coldly.

“I’m your superior. It’ll be up to you whether or not you succeed in Polite Society.

” His flinty gaze cut through her. “And if there is another hint of what happened today at Lady Darrow’s, I will not hesitate to report you. ”

Pinpricks of ice shivered up her back.

This is what she’d expected from the wretch.

“Are we clear?” He slipped a silky threat into that whisper.

“Abundantly, Malric,” she spat.

Like some empty-headed fool, she’d let her guard down. It was a mistake she’d not make again.