Free The Bride of Devil's Acre by Jennifer Kohout

for.”

    Devil leaned up against a two-hundred-year old elm tree, watching as Lord Edwards left his townhouse. He climbed into his waiting carriage, looking neither left nor right, and started off towards the palace.  
    It wasn’t by chance that Devil stood cooling his heels in the shade. He’d planned his arrival down to the minute, taking into account what he knew about Edwards’ schedule and proclivities.  
    Devil gave it another five minutes before stepping out of the shadows and into the afternoon sunlight. After half an hour spent in the shade, even the weak English sun felt warm, and burned the chill from his shoulders.  
    The Edwards’ townhouse was just what one would expect; big, elegant, and unapproachable. The house symbolized wealth and longevity, the Edwards’ name having survived through the ages. The house had stood for over two hundred years, and Devil had no doubt it would be here in two hundred more, an Edwards firmly entrenched behind its iron gate.
    “May I help you?”
    “I’m here to see Lady Edwards.” Devil handed the butler his card.
    Benson dropped the card onto a tray without reading it. “I’m sorry, sir. Her ladyship is not receiving callers.”
    “Give her my card. I guarantee she’ll see me.”
    “Her ladyship is not at home.”
    Not at home. The universal excuse when a lady wishes to avoid a caller.  
    “I believe you are mistaken, Benson.” Devil drawled out the man’s name and succeeded in gaining the butler’s attention. “Perhaps you should check on her ladyship.”  
    Benson stiffened.  
    Devil stood half a head taller than the man, but the butler still managed to try to look down his nose at him.  
    “Do I know you, sir?”
    “Perhaps not, but I know you.” Devil handed Benson another card. “Perhaps you should read it this time.”
    Benson hesitated, the card waiting between them.  
    Devil extended the card a little further, giving it a little shake for good measure.
    Benson snatched up the card. He was reluctant to take his eyes off the unwelcome caller. Something about the man warned him against looking away.
    Devil waited while Benson glanced down, his eyes going wide. It was a reaction to which Devil was accustomed. “Now you know who I am.”
    “Yes, sir. I do believe I am familiar with the name.”
    “Very good.” Devil smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, but one that meant he expected no more trouble from this point forward. “Now, her ladyship…”

    “My lady?” Benson hesitated at the sitting room doorway. Their unwelcome guest stood waiting in the foyer, a dark presence that caused the space between Benson’s shoulder blades to itch.
    “What is it, Benson?”  
    “You have a visitor.”  
    Jacqueline sighed. She’d been enjoying the quiet of having the house to herself. It had taken everything she had to convince her father to keep to his daily schedule. Relief at having her back—and fear of something else happening to her—had prevented him from leaving her side for more than a few minutes since her kidnapping. He meant well, but if Jacqueline didn’t get some space soon, she would be one for the asylum.
    “Who is it?”
    Benson handed her a card. Jacqueline ran her thumb across the engraved lettering: Purgatory
    Jacqueline’s head snapped up. “Are you sure?”
    “Positive, my lady.”
    Jacqueline examined the card again. Made of expensive card stock, it lacked any embellishments, or a name, but she didn’t need one. There was only one man in London with the audacity to affiliate himself with the underworld.
    “And he asked to speak with me, not my father?”
    “Yes, my lady.”  
    “I wonder what he wants,” Jacqueline said, staring at the card in her hand. The lettering was bold, like the man, she supposed.  
    “I’m sure I don’t know, my lady. Shall I make your excuses?”
    “What? Ah, no, send him in.” Jacqueline set the card aside. “Lets see what he has to say.”
    Benson hesitated.
    “What is