Page 3 of The Duke’s Defiant Angel (Dukes Gone Dirty #1)

3

H ayden peered at Raff through the thick cloud of smoke that hung in the air around their table at the club. His brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean, she said no ?”

Raff took a puff from his cigar before holding it before him to study it. A loud roar came from the room next door where some dancers were putting on a show for the clientele. This gaming hell on Vestry Lane was as far from Mayfair as a man could get, and yet he still could not escape thoughts of Miss Evangeline Dalton.

He couldn’t escape talking about her either, it seemed.

“Exactly what I said,” Raff said. He tried to keep his voice even, but he couldn’t hide his frustration.

Two weeks since he’d chosen his bride. The banns ought to have been posted by now, the contract signed, and the deal as good as done.

Malcolm frowned in incomprehension as he threw some coin down on the table for the next wager. “But that makes no sense.”

“I know,” Raff said.

Hayden squinted at him. “But you’re a duke.”

“I know ,” Raff said again.

All three of them sat in silence as they tried to make sense of it. A viscount’s daughter, pretty as she might be, did not say no to a duke.

“Did you speak to her yourself?” Malcolm asked. His own fiancée was waiting at their neighboring estate like a good little girl, while Raff’s intended bride was…

Well, he had no idea what she was up to. He hadn’t seen her since the night of the Daltons’ ball, and he’d made a point of going to every boring society event he was invited to over the last fortnight. And at every soiree and dinner party, he had perfectly lovely young ladies thrust in front of him, all too eager to catch his fancy.

But the one he wanted…

He stubbed his cigar out with a growl.

The one wanted had not attended. Not a single outing. He was starting to wonder if he’d imagined the angel in his arms.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Malcolm said. “You have not spoken to her, have you?” He sank back in his seat with a smirk. With his black hair and dark eyes, the Earl of Fallenmore’s only son and heir looked like the very devil himself there in the smoky room.

“She said no to the Duke of Raffian,” Hayden said with a shake of his head. “I cannot believe it.”

Raff’s friends shared a look before bursting out into a laugh.

At his expense.

Raff ignored them. “Where’s Benedict?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Hayden said. “He’s left for his country estate. Gave up on all this marriage mart business while you were busy chasing after that pretty chit of yours.”

“I haven’t been—” He cut himself off. Bloody hell. He had been chasing after her like some sort of lovestruck fool.

“Hard to believe her parents let her have her way,” Malcolm said. “What could they be thinking? It’s not as though they could receive a better offer.”

“This coming from a man who's been in an arrangement since birth,” Raff said. “Of course, you don’t understand it.”

Raff tapped his cards against the table’s edge, ignoring a fight that broke out next to him. Fighting was hardly a rare occurrence here on Vestry Lane. It occurred far more often here than, say, White’s. But what this place lacked in decorum, it more than made up for with other benefits. Like the freedom to say or do anything you wanted without all of society talking about it the next day.

Secrets stayed safe here, thanks to the man who ran it all from behind the scenes. King, they called him. And he might as well have worn a crown for all the fear and respect he garnered from those who worked and lived along this stretch of no-man’s land between the slums and the upper crust of society.

No one knew his real name, just as no one knew the name of his head enforcer. That brute was known only as the Beast, and even that moniker was only ever whispered in fear. London’s very own terrifying bedtime story.

Malcolm and Hayden were watching him closely. “Don’t tell me you’re going to let her go without a fight,” Malcolm said. “You’re not one to give up so easily.”

Raff glared at his old friend.

“So? How are you going to convince the girl to give you a chance?” Hayden was clearly enjoying this far more than he ought.

“It’s not the girl I need to convince,” Raff said, his voice tight with frustration.

Malcolm and Hayden stared at him.

He put down his cards with a sigh. “No young lady in her right mind would say no to a duke.”

The other two nodded at this. Every lady wanted to be a duchess. Especially young beauties who’d been raised for it. And Evangeline most certainly had been.

Even now, despite his frustration at being forced to wait for what was his, Raff still felt a smile tugging at his lips at her sweet, demure manners.

He truly had been angry at her parents for letting her out of their sight for even a second. Didn’t they know just how fragile a sheltered little beauty like her could be?

She ought to be protected and coddled. And as her father was clearly not doing right by her, it was that much better that he’d decided to make her his.

And she would be his. She was exactly what he needed in a wife. Biddable. Beautiful. Obedient. Dutiful.

And beddable in the extreme.

He shifted, adjusting his erection at the mere memory of her. Christ, he needed her in his bed, and he needed it now.

But he suspected her father already knew that.

“I’ll bet you everything on this table that it wasn’t Miss Dalton saying no,” he said.

Hayden stared at him in clear confusion. “Then who was it saying no?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Her father.”

“Why wouldn’t her father want the likes of you for a son?” Malcolm asked. He sounded so offended on Raff’s behalf, Raff was a little touched.

“You’ve got more money than God,” Hayden said.

“Nearly as much power, too,” Malcolm added.

“Much as it pains me to admit it, I think Benedict had the right of it.” He scowled down at his drink. “I showed too much interest too soon. Now her father no doubt wants to negotiate on the marriage contract.”

He sneered as he said it. Truth be told, he couldn’t care less about the details of the contract. His friends were not exaggerating about his fortune. He had more money than he knew what to do with. He didn’t need her dowry or any of the other inheritance that might come her way.

But her father’s rejection roused his suspicions. Only a fool or a desperate man would play games with the Duke of Raffian. The viscount didn’t strike him as a fool. So Raff had been doing his digging, and he’d hired King’s own man to confirm his suspicions.

“Ah, there he is now,” Raff said, straightening as a man strode toward them in this den of vices.

With his hat pulled down low, even with his tall, thin frame, he blended into the shadows. In this world of secrets and coded language, he was known as Tracker. All Raff really knew about him was that he was a former Bow Street Runner before he’d gone to work for King—and any of King’s clientele who had need of his skills.

“Your Grace,” the man said in a gruff voice as he reached their table.

“Have a seat.” Raff gestured to the chair that ought to have been occupied by Benedict—that coward. “Was I right?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Tracker said, his razor-sharp features giving nothing away as he slid a folder in Raff’s direction.

“Right about what?” Hayden asked.

But Raff was too busy looking over all Tracker had compiled. What he found made Raff’s gut twist with disgust and his blood run hot with anger on his angel’s behalf. “Just as I thought,” he said. “He’s using that sweet little girl of his for his own gain.”

“Aren’t all fathers?” Malcolm muttered. The bitterness in his voice had Raff and Hayden looking at him sharply. It was no secret that Malcolm’s father was a cruel old beast. During their school days, Malcolm had taken pains to avoid his family home. But he was a grown man now, and he waved away their concern. “What is it? What does it say?”

“He’s lost nearly everything, the old fool,” Raff said, tossing the file down. “He’s even used up the money that ought to have gone toward her dowry.”

“And he didn’t want to tell you,” Hayden said, filling in the pieces.

“No doubt he’s got one of his old crony friends lined up to take her off his hands, so he doesn’t have to admit to what he’s done,” Malcolm said.

Raff grunted in agreement, but he was still busy staring at the documents compiled before him. He’d no idea how Tracker had gotten his hands on all this, and he didn’t rightly care. But now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he’d need to act in haste.

He knew the night of their ball that the Daltons weren’t doing a good enough job of protecting his angel. What Tracker found only confirmed it. Shoving away from the table, he nodded at Tracker. “Have King add your pay to my credit.”

He dipped his head. “Yes, Your Grace.”

His friends were already on their feet. “Where are we going?” Hayden asked.

“Not you, just me,” Raff said. “This is a meeting I ought to have alone.” A plan took shape and gave him renewed energy. Two weeks had felt like a lifetime, but just as soon as he had her father’s signature on the marriage contracts, he’d get himself a special license.

“Place your bets, gents,” he said to his friends as he gathered his overcoat and hat. “In less than a fortnight, I’ll have that girl in my home and in my bed.”

Just the thought had him aching again. He clenched his jaw tight as he donned his hat.

“I’ll take that bet,” Hayden said as Raff headed toward the door.

“New wager,” Malcolm called out in a bored drawl. “How long until she has him on a leash and begging for his freedom?”

“Fuck off,” Raff called back to them, but his friends were too busy laughing to hear him.