Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid - Julie Johnstone Page 0,80
him and kill him. No, no. Murdering a peer would keep Nash separated from Lilias, and nothing, nothing, could keep him from her now. Not after learning of this betrayal. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was rising and shoving his chair back to go to her. She needed him, and he needed her. And in this moment, everything else paled in comparison to the news Carrington had relayed. Owen was a liar. Owen was not Thomas, not anything like Thomas, who had been good and honest. What else had Owen lied about? Rage seared Nash’s veins. He’d been so consumed by guilt, so determined to live a life of penance that he had hurt Lilias, almost forced her to wed someone she didn’t love.
He was at the door when a thought struck, and he stilled. “She may not have me,” he said, more to himself than Carrington.
His friend answered, anyway. “I would wager my entire fortune that she will have ye.”
Nash tugged a hand through his hair, doubt rising. “She doesn’t know everything.” He told Carrington then about the horse race with Owen and then about his brother and the ice. Shame curled within him.
“Good God, Greybourne. Those things were not yer fault. Letting Lady Lilias slip through yer fingers will be yer fault, but yer brother charging ye on the ice was not. Ye tried to save him, didn’t ye?”
“God, yes.” Nash stared down at his hands, a memory tickling the back of his mind, but before he could delve into it, the door to the Gold Room burst open and Owen stalked in, his uneven gait more pronounced at his clipped pace.
“You,” he snarled, pointing his cane at Nash. “You took her from me!” He started toward Nash, but Carrington stepped in front of him to block his path.
“Let him pass,” Nash said to Carrington as Nash concentrated on the man he wanted to throttle.
Carrington immediately moved, and Owen shoved a chair out of his way, knocking it over in his haste to stand in front of Nash. “You vowed not to pursue her,” Owen spat, his face turning red and his expression twisting.
“I kept my vow,” Nash said, his own fury climbing.
“She’s mine!” Owen roared, pushing Nash in the chest. “And if I cannot have her, I’ll ensure you don’t, either.”
The threat snapped the last thread of control Nash possessed. He reared back and hit Owen in the jaw, shutting him up and sending the man staggering backward and falling onto his arse. Nash’s pulse thumped in his ears as he came to stand over Owen, who was struggling to get back up. Nash raised his foot and pressed the man down to his back. “Make no mistake, Owen. I’ll kill you if you so much as touch a hair on Lilias’s head or dare to ever kiss her again. You lied about her kissing you on the balcony. You manipulated me, and now I know it.”
His nostrils flared as he stared down at the man he’d almost helped wed the woman Nash loved. “Do not go near her,” he managed through clenched teeth. “She’s broken her betrothal to you, and made her wishes known, and if you cause her one more second of pain, I’ll cause you a lifetime of it.”
“Get off me!” Owen demanded, trying to knock Nash’s foot away but not succeeding. “She can’t love someone like you! I did everything right. I was there for her! I stayed by her side for seven years listening to her carry on about you, pine over—”
“What?” Nash interrupted, realization hitting him full force. He leaned down, grabbed a fistful of Owen’s overcoat and yanked him up. “You told me she never asked about me.” His head pounded with the understanding of just how much Owen had manipulated him through the years. A fury, like he’d never felt, pulsed through him. He’d practically carved out his heart to step aside for Owen to win Lilias. He reared his fist back to punch Owen again, but a woman’s voice rang out, freezing him mid-motion.
“You!” Asher’s wife bellowed, coming into the room in a swirl of silk. She pointed a finger at Nash. “How dare you betroth yourself to another woman and break my friend’s heart all over again! Your actions will be her undoing! She’s gone and run off with Kilgore!”
Lilias sat on the seat of Kilgore’s gig, shivering as he drove them deeper into St. Giles. As the gig bumped over the dirt