Page 10 of To Dare the Devil

“So you’re doing good works, building a school?” Kathy gestured to the building works. He did not reply, so she carried on. “Eliza is family. She mentioned an anonymous rich patron funding the build.”

“I would appreciate it if you would not speak of my involvement,” he said.

Kathy regarded him with interest. He stood stiffly, every line of his body radiating tension and unease. He wanted no credit for the school, she realised. Was he truly punishing himself? The man she had known so briefly had turned her young heart upside down and inside out. Not that it had been his fault, exactly. She had known him for such a short time, barely three days, and for all of it, he’d either been unconscious or out of his mind with delirium. But she had woven romantic stories about the sleeping prince, only to discover he was the devil himself. He had shattered her innocent illusions about love, and though it was foolish, she realised now that she had still not forgiven him for it. She stared at him now, seeing not a devil, but only a deeply flawed man, trying to do his best.

“Well then, I wish you success with your endeavours, my lord.”

Kathy discovered she meant it. If he was truly repentant, then he deserved credit for it. It had not been his fault she had assumed him to be something he wasn’t.

“Wait, you still haven’t told me if—”

“No. You did not debauch me in a dark corner,” she cut in, her voice harder than she’d intended, admitting herself shocked to see the flush that rose high on his cheeks.

He let out a shaky breath. “I am relieved if I have never offered you any insult or done you any harm, Miss de Beauvoir, but I cannot shake the feeling that… I know you.”

There was something, some depth of feeling behind the words that troubled her and made her snap out a response.

“You do not.”

Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze, or the emphasis he put on that one word, which gave it too many intimate connotations. Not that they had ever been intimate, not physically, though she had sat with him and sponged his fevered body, changed his dressings and tried to calm him when he was afraid and in pain. She had sung to him and held his hand, told him stories, told him her secrets as though he’d been as sweetly innocent of wrongdoing as she. And then he’d burst out of his sleeping fever to spill his poison in her ears. To confess his darkest secrets to her, ranting and furious with pain and confusion, and she’d been frightened and appalled and so horribly disillusioned. His confessions might have been good for his soul, but they had tainted some part of her she’d not been ready to let go of and she was still angry about the loss she’d felt.

“No,” he said, letting out a breath. Was that disappointment in his eyes? “No, of course not. Forgive me for bothering you.”

He gave her a polite bow and had turned to walk away when the idea struck her out of nowhere. Here was her opportunity. Here was something she could do, something that interested her, that could make the most of her skills.

“My lord?”

He turned at once, a hopeful glint in his eyes that made her remember that sleeping prince and the foolish stories she’d told herself. Worse, that she’d told him.

Annoyed to discover herself fighting a blush, Kathy put up her chin. “If you think you can keep your interest in this project a secret and monitor progress on it too, you’re mad. It won’t take any time at all for people to notice your frequent visits.”

“I know that, but I have yet to employ someone to do the job for me. The truth is, Miss de Beauvoir, I’m not quite used to being a responsible human being. I am trying to get my life in order, to undo years of bad behaviour and idiocy, and getting good staff is—”

“I’ll do it,” she said, aware she was interrupting him again and not giving a damn.

He blinked at her, and she glared at him, daring him to tell she was hardly qualified.

“I have worked for both my father and brother, my lord. My father, as I am sure even you must be aware, is a brilliant scientist. However, his filing skills are non-existent. He has no concept of time, and loathes dealing with correspondence. If I say so myself, my organisational skills are exemplary, I am hard working and I enjoy getting things done and done properly.”

“Yes, but why—”

Kathy didn’t allow him to finish, too determined to get her point across. “I have been looking for just such an opportunity. I have long wanted to improve the lot of those less fortunate, but I have neither the power nor the finances to do so. For example I have tried to raise awareness of the vile conditions in the workhouse here in Isleworth. You noticed, perhaps, how much money has been spent on the elegant building you passed. What a pretty confection it is, so as not to offend its rich neighbours, and yet conditions inside are appalling. The poor creatures who inhabit that pretty edifice are starving and ill-treated, living in filth, and despite endless visits and writing dozens of letters, I am ignored by the dull old men in charge. With your name, and your money, I could make them listen. I could do some good. We can begin with this school project. I will liaise with Eliza and give you regular reports. I will make the very best use of your money and perhaps, if I can prove my worth, you will allow me to pursue other avenues on your behalf.”

He frowned, looking more than a little stunned. She supposed she could hardly blame him; that had been something of a tirade. Kathy did not fool herself into thinking she’d won him over. Once the shock of her outburst had subsided, she assumed he would pat her on the head, laugh at the very idea, and walk away.

She was wrong.

“And you would report to me. Personally.”

Kathy hesitated. Having to spend more time in this man’s company was not a comfortable idea, and yet, she wanted this opportunity to do some good. She had wanted to do something since that ill-fated day she’d followed her brother into the Dials and had her eyes opened to what her life might have been if fate had not been so kind. The day she’d met him. If she could use this opportunity to make a name for herself, she might really do some good for the people who lived in such terrible conditions, and perhaps then she could stand beside her brilliant parents and brother without feeling so horribly ordinary in comparison.

With her heart beating in her throat, she gave a taut nod. “Yes, my lord. I would.”

Maxwell stared at the girl, temptation an itch under his skin. She was too delicious, a heady combination of wilful temper and innocence. She disliked him, no matter her claims that they did not know each other. Perhaps she just knew him by reputation, but he doubted it. She was lying. He was certain of it. Max had lied often enough himself not to recognise it in others. He had hurt her, or insulted her, or someone she cared about. The truth of that weighed him down, reminding him he must do better.

In the past he would not have hesitated to do all in his power to charm her, to beguile her and seduce her, and to get beneath her skirts as quickly as possible. The idea made guilt squirm in his chest, but did not quench the heat flickering in his veins. It was a bad idea to let her within a mile of him, but then that was part of it, was it not? Part of becoming a better man was not to just avoid temptation, but to resist it because it was the right thing to do. It was not supposed to be easy. But if he failed, it would not be him who suffered, as ever.

It would be safer for her to keep her distance.