Betrayal

‘Of course,’ she muttered.

Pippa released him immediately and stepped away. Her face flamed at what she had done. The best interpretation anyone could put on her action would be that she cared for Dev as a brother would. The worst was that she was a woman in disguise. Best that she get away and let his mother comfort him.

‘Please excuse me.’ Without waiting for a reply, Pippa rushed from the room.

Alicia, Duchess of Rundell, watched the slim figure of her guest fly out before turning a worried look on her son. ‘I am sorry about Patrick. He was a good man and a good friend.’

Dev stood and limped to the wall of windows that overlooked an extensive garden that was in full bloom. Rosebushes mingled with iris and sweet alyssum. The beauty did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest or the urge to smash his hand through the glass.

‘His death was a waste. I was glad before that we defeated Napoleon. I am ten times gladder now.’

Alicia followed him and put a comforting hand on his arm. ‘You are right.’

Dev gripped her hand. ‘And what am I to do with young Pippen, Mother? You saw the way he comforted me. It was more intimate than I would have expected.’

Alicia met his troubled gaze squarely. ‘What are you going to do? You are the one who laid his head on the…lad’s shoulder.’

Dev sighed. ‘So much sorrow and so much confusion. The boy is too soft and too compassionate for his own good.’

‘Perhaps,’ the Duchess said with a strange smile. ‘But right now, you need rest.’ When his mouth opened on what she knew would be a protest, she put one finger over his lips. ‘Don’t argue with me. Do as I say for once. You will feel better for the sleep.’

To her surprise, Dev did as she urged. That, more than anything else, told her how devastated he was.

And what was he going to do about ‘Pippen’?

Nearly three months after arriving in Brussels, Pippa finally stood outside the door to the Duke of Wellington’s office. She owed this meeting to Deverell who lounged in a chair along the wall, his wounded leg straight out in front. A brass-handled cane leaned against his thigh.