Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid - Julie Johnstone Page 0,41

Lilias were stealing his sanity.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” he muttered.

It didn’t matter why she’d accepted Owen’s proposal. He could not allow it to matter. He had to stick to his damn bloody vow. He had to put Owen first. The yearning hammering him taunted him to do otherwise. He could not talk about them anymore. If he could, he would leave London again, but his sister needed to be taken in hand.

“Why are you here and not with your wife?” he asked, hoping Carrington would go along with the change of subject.

Carrington looked contemplative for a moment, and then he leaned forward. “My wife is in a secret society for women,” he said, voice pitched low. “The Society of Ladies Against Rogues. SLAR.”

“How interesting,” Nash murmured, not really caring. He cared about nothing but Lilias. It was maddeningly awful. Sitting here, he felt dead inside knowing she would be wedding Owen, knowing it was his penance to allow it.

Carrington scrutinized him for a moment, as if he realized Nash’s mind was elsewhere. “My wife started the society after I hurt her greatly. Interestingly enough, Lady Lilias is also in SLAR. It’s made up of women who either have been ruined by a rogue or have had their hearts broken by a rogue. Or both.”

Struck, he opened his mouth to demand more information and then promptly shut it. No. He could not ask. He could not. The desire to do so, though, clawed at his throat. Had she joined the society because of him?

Impossible.

A hammer started in his head, banging his skull and rattling his composure. She had once believed him to be a man he was not. She had not known his secrets. Was it possible she had felt the endless depths of what he had felt, what he still felt? No. Damn it, no. He could not allow himself to go there. Yet, his mind went like a moth to flame. Was it possible? The question echoed in his head, becoming his heartbeat. Even if it was, he was not the man she had thought he was. She didn’t know the things he’d done. She wouldn’t wish ever to be with him if she knew. She was wrapped in pureness and loyalty and honor. He was wrapped in wickedness.

“In fact, Lady Lilias is a founding member,” Carrington said, studying Nash. “She and my wife.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Nash was a blink away from getting up and leaving. He’d never known information could be so much torture.

“Ye asked.”

“I asked you,” Nash said, struggling to keep ahold of his composure, “why you were not with your wife.”

“And I’m telling ye.”

He leaned hard against the back of his chair, feeling as if the world were collapsing in on him. “Do you mind getting on with it?”

“Ye look as if ye want to pound on something,” Carrington said in answer and with a slight smile. “Bad day?”

The desire to do just that rose dark and powerful within Nash. “You found me drinking alone, did you not?”

“Point taken. I’ll just leave ye to it, then.”

Nash had his hand on Carrington’s arm before he’d even realized he’d moved to stop his friend. The reaction was instinctual, and thankfully, Carrington did not protest. Instead, he offered Nash a triumphant look that sounded a warning in Nash’s mind.

The man slowly sat, and Nash released him. “My wife is on a mission,” Carrington said. “That’s what her society does. They task themselves with preventing rogues from ruining unsuspecting women.”

Nash frowned. That sounded as if it could be dangerous. “Do you not worry for her? Should you not be with her?”

“She no longer goes on any dangerous missions without me. It was a vow she made to me once I learned about the society.”

Nash blew out a relieved breath. He couldn’t even think of Lilias in danger. “Very wise of you to require such a vow. I imagine the other ladies did not care for that.” He was thinking specifically of Lilias, but of course, he would not say so.

“I don’t think they loved that my wife would not be joining them, but they’ve not voiced any displeasure to me.”

Nash leaned forward, his pulse ticking upward. “Do you mean to say the other women in the society—What did you call it?”

“The Society of Ladies Against Rogues. Or SLAR, as they refer to it.”

Nash nodded. “Do the other women still go on dangerous missions?”

“They do. They need a good man to take them in hand, but ye’d be surprised