Free The Bride of Devil's Acre by Jennifer Kohout Page A

it?”
    “My lady, the gentleman’s reputation…” Notorious didn’t begin to describe the man who stood waiting. It wouldn’t do for her ladyship to be found alone in the man’s company. “Perhaps I should send Emme?”
    Jacqueline resisted the urge to laugh, but just barely. It would be considered extremely unseemly for her to break into hysterics, especially with company waiting. “Benson, I have very little reputation left worth protecting. There is no reason to disturb Emme.”
    “If you insist,” the butler said, but didn’t move from his place in the doorway.
    Jacqueline lifted her chin. “Send him in, Benson.”  
    Benson’s shoulders sagged with defeat. “Yes, my lady.”
    Jacqueline watched Benson bow out of the room. She could hear his clipped footsteps retracing his way to the foyer. The sound echoed in the afternoon stillness of the house, an unmistakable tattoo of disapproval.
    A moment later, Benson’s footsteps returned, this time accompanied by a second set of steps and the distinct tap of a walking stick.
    The man who walked into Jacqueline’s sitting room was nothing like what she was expecting, and everything his name suggested. Black hair, green eyes, and an arresting face, he didn’t just enter the room, he dominated it.  
    “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Devil said.
    Jacqueline rose as feminine awareness roared to life. The sensation caught her by surprise. Masculine power rolled toward her, heating the air in the room and squeezing her chest.  
    “I admit to taking this meeting out of curiosity.” Jacqueline indicated the chair across from her, the delicate table between them pitiful protection, should she need it. “Are you sure it isn’t my father you wish to speak with?”
    “No, I came to see you.” Devil took the seat across from Lady Edwards, searching her features carefully. Hazel eyes set in a pretty face watched him with polite curiosity, but not a glimmer of recognition. Apprehension, perhaps, but not fear.  
    Devil could work with that.
    “Would you care for tea?” Jacqueline wasn’t sure what one offered a notorious club owner, and, if the rumors were true, criminal. “Perhaps something stronger? I can have a bottle of brandy brought in.”  
    If there was any left.  
    Jacqueline’s father had been working his way through their supply of spirits, her kidnapping sending him to the bottom of a bottle each night.  
    “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.” He hoped. Having made the decision to come, Devil was eager to get on with the business at hand.
    “Very well.” The social niceties seen to, Jacqueline tugged her cuffs down over her scarred wrists and folded her hands in her lap, expectantly. “What can I do for you, Mister…?”
    “Radcliffe, Douglas Radcliffe.” The use of his given name felt foreign, he had been Devil for so long. His mother had called him her little devil, and the childhood nickname had stayed with him long after her death. “But you can call me Devil.”
    “Devil,” Jacqueline said. The name felt strange on her tongue. Inappropriately familiar, perhaps, but not unpleasant. Nothing went on in London’s underworld, it was said, without this man’s expressed knowledge, and permission.
    “I have a business proposition for you,” Devil said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs.  
    “If it’s business you’re after, then it’s my father you should be speaking to.”
    “This is business of a more personal nature.” Devil watched a dimple appear between Lady Edwards brows. “Recently, I’ve discovered that, due to my lack of pedigree, certain business opportunities remain closed to me. I am in need of a wife, one with an exceptional name to help pave the way into the upper echelons of society.”
    Jacqueline blinked. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
    “It’s simple, really. I’m asking you to marry me.” Devil ignored Lady Edwards’ stunned expression. It was a plausible