Nicole Jordan by Wicked Fantasy Page B

probingly.
    “I’ve spoken to Phineas Cochrane, and he has agreed to review them.”
    “You didn’t mention your concern about running slaves to Heward?”
    Inwardly Antonia squirmed uncomfortably, knowing she was being disloyal to Heward by not trusting him. “No, I didn’t mention it. I am certain he will be vindicated, but you will only believe his innocence if it’s proven by an impartial observer.”
    When Deverill didn’t reply, she realized he was unlikely to ever believe in her betrothed’s innocence.
    They both fell silent. And when the waltz ended, both left unsatisfied with the conversation—Deverill more so.
    He had made little progress, he was aware, in raising doubts in Antonia’s mind about her betrothed. With her advantages of beauty and fortune, she could have any man she wanted. It didn’t have to be Heward. There were far better candidates, Deverill was convinced.
    He himself certainly didn’t fit the bill, with his lack of title and his notoriety. And marriage of any kind was not in his plans.
    He had a seaman’s need for freedom, an explorer’s sense of wanderlust, a Guardian’s claim to duty. And his own, deeply personal mission that required his complete devotion; a sworn vow that could not be fulfilled by half measures.
    There was simply no place in his life for entanglements. He couldn’t afford to be shackled by the demands of a wife. In truth, the last thing he wanted was to settle down tamely with a proper, genteel lady who would need to be handled like fine porcelain and who would reluctantly perform her duties in a passionless marriage bed.
    Antonia would be different, he expected, but that hardly mattered. He had dedicated his life to the Guardians, and his responsibilities would keep him far from England. And she, of course, must marry a nobleman.
    That didn’t prevent him from craving her, though, nor did it ease the fierce stab of desire he felt every time he saw her. He wanted her, in spite of everything. When she turned that cool, disdainful expression on him, he longed to give in to his primal urges, to turn her pretense of ice to fire.
    Acting on his urges was out of the question, Deverill sternly reminded himself. He couldn’t have Antonia. But he damned sure wouldn’t let Heward have her, either.
    This past week he’d had his own people investigating the baron, asking questions of servants and employees and business acquaintances. And he’d solicited the help of three other Guardians in London, all peers of Heward’s, to subtly interrogate his lordship’s friends.
    What he’d discovered thus far was highly disturbing. On the surface, Heward appeared the picture of refined elegance and suave charm, but that charm was apparently deceptive, for it concealed a vicious temperament and a proclivity for brutality.
    Deverill had already personally seen one instance of it several years ago, against a beggar lad, but now he’d begun hearing tales of Heward’s cruelty to his servants, as well as several even more unsavory allegations about his dealings with the lightskirts he patronized.
    Where once Deverill had wanted to make Antonia see how boring and stuffy and pretentious a husband Heward would make her, he was now determined to show her the baron’s dark side. If Heward could be provoked into losing his temper in front of her, his display of rage would at least raise suspicions in her mind about his true nature.
    Eventually, Deverill swore, he would succeed in his goal. He was more resolved than ever to pry her away from Heward.
    He had to be clever how he went about it, though. Antonia would have to decide on her own to break their betrothal. He couldn’t push her. She was just stubborn enough to dig in her heels and do the opposite of what she was being pressed to do. But he had no intention of giving up.
    If necessary, he would find her another noble husband, Deverill thought without enthusiasm, even with distaste.
    His next opportunity would come the day after