The Devil's Own Read online

  “Your generosity is truly a blessing to this village,” said he, mildly.

  An awkward silence fell, and Mary squirmed, knowing she was being rude. Hauling her gaze up from the ground was like being dragged naked over a path littered with rusted nails and broken glass, but she did it. What a shock it was to see his benevolent smile and dark eyes full of neither contempt nor wariness but rather intense curiosity and something else, something that made her suddenly warm all over.

  “The world needs more such kindness,” he was saying, his smile broadening.

  She forgot how to breathe, and for a moment found herself unable to form words. “I… It’s my pleasure to serve the Lord in whatever manner possible,” she finally managed. “I am, as you said in this morning’s sermon, His instrument.”

  “Indeed,” he said, his gaze traveling over her face as if memorizing her features, like he was seeing her for the first time.

  Her middle tightened, and her knees suddenly felt a bit wobbly. Perhaps not all hope is lost. She ventured the tiniest of smiles. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for being so outspoken this morning,” she said carefully. “Truly, I meant no offense, and I’m glad you helped clarify the matter. For us both.”

  His countenance froze for an instant, and then his smile faded into a more sober expression. “No offense was taken, Miss Tomblin,” he said in a monotone.

  Her heart leaped for joy, and it was all she could do not to let it show. Her apology had been accepted! “Thank you,” she said, relieved beyond measure that he’d decided to forgive her for having made him so uncomfortable.

  But he wasn’t quite finished. “Certainty is always preferable to ignorance, which can lead to so many tragically avoidable mistakes, don’t you think?” he went on, his light, conversant tone belied by the intensity of his gaze. “One of the many satisfactions granted me through my holy commission is to be able to give certainty to parishioners seeking truth. The knowledge that you no longer labor under a burden of confusion or misunderstanding lightens my own yoke considerably.”

  Mary had no doubts whatsoever as to his meaning. All the warmth and pleasure she’d felt at his forgiveness and attentions bled out, and her eyes began to ache the way they always did just before she cried.

  Well, at least he’s gentlemanly enough to convey his disinterest in a manner that leaves me some dignity. It was time to go before said dignity took flight in an unseemly show of tears.

  Swallowing her upset, she gave him as much of a smile as she could muster. “I’m so glad for you, and shall be ever grateful for your patient instruction,” she managed with false brightness, clutching Augie’s arm. “Well, we won’t keep you—we were just on our way to the mercantile.”

  “Ladies, it was my pleasure,” he said at once, stepping to the side to allow them to pass, his gaze never leaving her face.

  Tearing her eyes off him, she forced her legs to move. Just walk. Don’t think about it, and whatever you do, don’t be foolish enough to say anything more. You’ll only make matters worse. Just keep walking.

  She made the mistake of glancing up at him. A terrible ache blossomed in her chest as their eyes met, threatening to steal her breath and let loose the tears she’d been holding back. Why she should feel such longing after such a definitive rejection was unfathomable, but she couldn’t deny it was there. Oh, how she wanted him to love her back! The tightness in her belly ratcheted up another notch and her heart skipped as he continued to hold her gaze.

  Alarm flashed in his eyes, and he moved back another half step, as if she bore some vile contagion.

  It hurt. Enough that she was able to break the spell and look away.

  From the corner of her eye as she moved past, she saw it happen. The stumble as his heel caught on the raised corner of a flagstone. The graceless hop-twist as he tried to right himself. The fall as he came crashing to the ground with a hard grunt followed by a sharp crack and an agonized outcry.

  Aghast, she stared down at the unnatural bend of his lower leg as he lay there groaning, the color bleeding from his pain-contorted visage.

  Beside her, Augie let out a long, faint moan.

  The sound galvanized Mary. “Augusta Benfield, don’t you dare faint!” she snapped, jolting her friend out of an imminent collapse. “Go and get help!” The reverend let out another pained sound, and she fell to her knees beside him, taking his head and pillowing it on her lap. “Quickly! Go!” she urged, shooing Augie on.

  As her friend hiked her skirts and ran, yelling, into the apothecary, Mary looked down at the reverend. Even as she worried for him, she couldn’t help acknowledging the irony of her situation. She’d wanted to be close to him for a long time, but despite countless daydreams envisioning him in her arms, this particular scenario had escaped even her imagination.

  Despite his rebuff, she was helpless against the feelings elicited by holding him like this. Her skin felt branded by the softness of his coal-black hair between her fingers as she cradled his head and crooned nonsense words of comfort. Even now, after everything—she still wanted him.

  She thought back over their exchange. He’d clearly been caught off guard and flustered by her expression of sentiment this morning, but had just now looked at her with definite interest before again retreating.

  Hope rekindled in her heart. Whether it was shyness or some other impediment that held him back, it was imperative that she learn why he resisted and then figure out how to overcome that obstacle.

  …

  Later that night…

  Devlin lay back against the pillows on his brother’s hard bed, sweat beading his brow as he fought the urge to vomit. Again. The doctor had come and gone in a huff after the bonesetter had put his leg to rights—without the benefit of laudanum, which he’d adamantly refused due to the need to maintain the secret of his true identity. Now, all he could do was suffer in agony as Daniel, who’d eventually discovered his missing clothes, figured it out, and had come to the rectory to look for him, gave him a well-earned tongue-lashing.

  “How could you do it?” The vein on Daniel’s temple stood out like a pulsing purple caterpillar against his brick-red face. “Do you know how long I stayed out there in the cold on my knees praying for guidance? Three hours!” he bellowed. “While you stole my clothes and impersonated me to members of my own flock! And now, here you are with a broken leg, in my house, in my bed, with everyone thinking you’re me!”

  “I deserve every bit of your wrath,” Devlin gasped. “I should not have done it. I know that now.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you’ve learned your lesson,” his brother deadpanned. Dropping into the chair beside the bed, he buried his face in his hands. “What are we going to do?”

  Devlin stared at him. “What do you mean? You’ll tell everyone what I did, that it was a thoughtless prank, and—”

  “And you’ll never be allowed to cross Winterbourne’s threshold again.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. Putting on a brave face, he dismissed the idea with a wave. “Nonsense. David will understand it was merely high spirits that inspired me, and that I harbored no malicious intent.”

  “David is the head of our family now,” said Daniel soberly. “He has responsibilities, and our baby sister is one of them. Word of this gets out and it will damage our entire family’s reputation and ruin her prospects this Season. He would disown you in a blink to protect her.”

  He felt the blood drain from his face at the thought of losing his family again after just having been welcomed back. “I did not even think of—”

  “No, you did not,” cut in Daniel, eyes ablaze. “And there are other things to consider, too, such as my reputation. The people you spoke with today, you said they could not tell the difference. How many of them would wonder whether or not this was really the first time you and I had switched places? How many might wonder if we’d often played such a game at thei
r expense for our own amusement?”

  “Surely they would never think such a thing of you,” he reasoned. But despite his bravado, misgiving began to creep in.

  “How would they know for certain?” asked his brother. “This incident could cast doubt on my character and everything I’ve ever said or done here. All the years I’ve spent cultivating relationships with these people, building their trust in me, their earthly shepherd—all gone, or at best irreparably damaged.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “You’ve quite possibly just ruined my life.”

  Pain spiked in Devlin’s lower leg again. “You’re not the only one suffering here,” he snapped. “I’m supposed to leave for London next week to seal a deal that will guarantee my future. Without it, my rivals will move in and I’ll lose everything I’ve invested—though I hardly expect any sympathy from you over that prospect.”

  “You’re a bloody selfish bastard, Dev,” muttered Daniel thickly, rising to go and stand before the hearth.

  The shock of hearing his saintly twin use such language brought Devlin up short, and the anger drained out of him as he spied Daniel surreptitiously wiping his eyes. Falling back, he heaved a sigh. “You’re right. I am. And, unlike you, I deserve whatever happens. I suppose this is God punishing me for my many sins. And you along with me, unfortunately.”

  “You’re wrong,” said his brother softly. “I don’t believe God works that way.” Crossing his arms, he began to pace the room. “I know you meant no harm, Dev, and that it was just a silly prank to you. But now we have to deal with the consequences. I don’t want to lose the faith the people here have placed in me, and I don’t want you to lose your family again.” His mouth compressed, and he fell silent.

  Devlin sat up a little. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?” he breathed, wondering if this was a fever dream induced by his broken leg. “But how can—”

  “You’re going to take my place here until you recover enough to return to London,” replied Daniel, holding up a hand for silence. “I’ll write out all my sermons, which you will deliver. I know you’ll remember the words, but do you still remember how to deliver the worship serv—”

  “Yes. Absolutely,” cut in Devlin. He hadn’t felt the call to ministry but hadn’t been able to bear the thought of being parted from Danny, so they’d attended seminary together. Both had graduated with high honors, largely due to their ability to recall everything they read in perfect detail, but he’d decided at the last minute not to be ordained. That had been the beginning of the end for him and the duke. “I remember all of it.”

  “Good.” His brother’s face remained unreadable. “We’ll go over it again this week, and you’ll deliver the Christmas sermon. I’ll attend in disguise to observe.” He took a shaky breath. “You won’t be expected to return to your—my—other duties for a while yet. When you do, you’ll have plenty of offers of help.”

  That sounded reasonable enough.

  “I’ll list those duties out for you,” continued Daniel in clipped tones. “Under the circumstances, you will not be expected to casually socialize. If anyone comes to you needing counsel, you will dispense no personal advice, but will direct them to an appropriate Bible verse and tell them to pray. Hopefully, things will remain uneventful until we can exchange places again, but if, heaven forbid, a situation arises, you’ll have to be careful to act as I would.” He paused and pointed a trembling finger at him. “And, after tonight, no drinking.”

  Now that was a sore blow, especially considering how much pain he was in at the moment. He accepted it, however, as part of his penance. “Danny, when Father disowned me, you were the only one who stood by me. I cannot ever forget it. I swear to you I can do this and no one will ever be the wiser.”

  “Good, because if you fail, it will be the ruin of me and very likely our entire family. Which will, as you know, be in attendance at the Christmas Eve service.”

  Devlin’s mouth went bone dry as the weight of his brother’s world settled on his shoulders. He nodded.

  “Now,” said Daniel, going over to his writing desk. “While you are healing and seeing to matters here, I will go to London and temporarily take your place. You’ll need to instruct me on how to convincingly behave like you and give me all the particulars on what must be done to preserve your livelihood. I suggest you send letters ahead to—”

  “Yes, I’ll prearrange everything, of course,” Devlin assured him. “I’ll write my managers and clear my schedule until the end of February.” His brother’s face blanched. “We cannot exchange places until I’m able to walk again—with a cane, at the very least,” he reasoned. Despite his throbbing leg, he managed a wry smile. “You may be a holy man, but if you suddenly start walking normally before it’s realistically possible, you’ll either incur suspicion or have people flocking to Harper’s Grove in search of a miracle.”

  Daniel’s expression remained stoic and utterly without humor as he nodded. “Agreed. Now, regarding your social commitments, I must assume you cannot simply disappear for so long a time, so I’ll fulfill at least some of your obligations—whatever invitations you have already accepted, at the least. But be warned, Devlin. While I’m in London acting on your behalf, I will not commit any unethical act. I may be quite literally walking in your shoes, but I will not live your life of sin and vice.”

  A fresh round of sweat broke across Devlin’s brow, but he nodded. His brother knew he ran gaming hells, but it was doubtful his pious sibling understood everything that went on behind those doors. Provided he instructed his managers thoroughly in his letters, God willing, he’d never find out.

  As for the contract with St. Peters, it had already been drawn up prior to his leaving. All Daniel had to do was sign it and then have St. Peters add his signature in the presence of their solicitors and witnesses.

  Now he just had to force his sinful self to behave in a pious manner that, apparently, allowed for no fun whatsoever while living a life of drudgery and servitude…for the next two months. And school a vicar in how to behave convincingly like a rake.

  Devlin knew his brother could do it, just as he knew himself capable of flawlessly playing Daniel’s part. Before Danny had felt the call to serve the Church, he’d been just as mischievous, just as full of devilry as he. And he’d been a bloody good actor, too. There hadn’t been a soul in the whole of the county they hadn’t been able to fool.

  Soul. A sinking sensation settled in his gut as he thought about what his twin was about to do in order to save them both. It was one thing for him to lie industriously, but to ask Daniel to do it…

  It’s not as if I’m corrupting him. Such was the strength of his brother’s religious conviction that he would doubtless easily withstand London’s temptations. If anyone was capable of coming away from that magnificent cesspool of vice untainted, it was surely Saint Danny.

  He put it out of his mind.

  For the next week, Daniel hid in the rectory after having sent word to their family of the accident, which he made out to be far less serious than it was, and saying that Devlin had come to stay and care for him. David couldn’t drag himself away from his duties, but he sent Dean a couple of times in his stead, along with the ladies, all bearing gifts meant to make the invalid comfortable throughout his convalescence.

  Devlin, for his part, made a show of feeling far too poorly to entertain company for more than a few minutes at a time, and his twin shooed them away so the “invalid” could rest.

  Hour after hour, Devlin listened as Daniel brought him up to date on changes in ecclesiastical practices, shared intimate knowledge concerning the goings-on in the villagers’ private lives, and instructed him on his own personal habits.

  Christmas Eve came. Knowing it was a wrench for his twin to give up his favorite service, Devlin took extra care in his preparation.

  It had to be perfect.

 
Donning his brother’s cassock, surplice, and tippet was surreal, but nowhere near as strange as then leading a worship service on one of the highest holidays of the year—from a chair and using crutches. He’d never thought to lead any church service and felt a right hypocrite preaching about the Lord who, out of love for sinful man, had chosen to become flesh and blood to walk among them and teach them the ways of righteousness. There was a reason he’d decided not to accept ordination. It just wasn’t in him to be saintly.

  His gaze kept straying to where Daniel stood at the back, concealed in the darkest corner beneath the choir loft with his head bowed. The simple farmers’ clothes he wore and the dense black shadow about his jaw from a week’s unshaven growth helped conceal his identity, as did the thick scarf he wore wound about his neck and chin, but if anyone looked closely…

  Several times, he found himself glancing at Miss Tomblin, who sat in the second pew with her family. Her enraptured stare never left his face, and it became abundantly clear the girl truly fancied herself in love.

  It was hard to believe his twin didn’t reciprocate, but he knew Danny. His brother was practically an ascetic and had never been prone to passion. At times, it was difficult to comprehend how the two of them, looking so very alike, could be so opposite in nature.

  The thought brought a brief smile to his face as he considered the effect that difference would likely have on Miss St. Peters. He’d warned Daniel about her, if only in the vaguest of terms, and Danny had merely shrugged and told him it was of no import. Doubtless, his naturally aloof demeanor where women were concerned would put her off in no time.

  His gaze was again drawn to Miss Tomblin. He’d done nothing but cause his brother grief. If nothing else, he could take care of this small matter for him. By the time Danny returned to Harper’s Grove, Miss Tomblin would no longer be a problem.