by Lisa Kleypas
“You’re all very noisy when you argue,” Henry informed her. “And the servants have been talking.”
“Would you be sorry if I did stop the wedding?”
The boy shook his head. “Oh, Penelope’s all right. As far as girls go. But Alex doesn’t love her. Not like…”
“Caroline,” Lily said flatly. Each time the blasted woman’s name was mentioned, she felt an unpleasant stabbing sensation. What had been so bloody marvelous about Caroline that Alex had gone so mad over her? “Do you remember her, Henry?”
“Yes, quite well. Though I was just a boy then.”
“And now you’ve reached the grand old age of…what is it, eleven? Twelve?”
“Twelve,” he said, grinning in response to her teasing. “You’re rather like her, you know. Except you’re prettier. And older.”
“Well,” Lily said wryly, “I hardly know whether to be flattered or offended. Tell me what you thought of her.”
“I liked her. Caroline was a lively girl. She never made Alex angry like you do. She made him laugh. He hardly ever laughs now.”
“A pity,” Lily said absently, remembering Alex’s brief, dazzling smile when they played cards in the gallery.
“Are you going to marry Derek Craven?” Henry asked diffidently, as if the matter were of merely academic interest.
“Good God, no.”
“You could marry Alex, after you get rid of Penelope,”
A laugh burst from Lily’s lips. “Get rid of her? Heavens, you make it sound as if I’m going to dispose of her in the Thames! First of all, my dear, I don’t intend to marry anyone, ever. Second, I don’t even like your brother.”
“But didn’t I tell you about the time when I was afraid of the dark and Alex came to my room and told me—”
“Henry,” she said in a warning voice.
“Just let me finish this one story,” he insisted.
Lily groaned and settled back, resting her head against the morocco sleeping cushion while the list of Raiford’s virtues continued.
Derek and Worthy bent over the desk in the central gaming room. The mahogany surface was covered with a multitude of notes concerning preparations to be made for the upcoming masked assembly. The only thing they had agreed on was that the gambling palace should be decorated to look like a Roman temple. Derek wanted the ball to reflect the grand decadence of the Roman civilization at its zenith. Unfortunately he and Worthy had conflicting ideas on how the effect should be achieved.
“Awright, awright,” Derek finally said, his green eyes glinting with exasperation. “You can ’ave the columns an’ silwer swags ’angin off the walls—but that means I gets my way about the wenches.”
“Painting them all white and draping them in sheets to resemble statues?” Worthy asked skeptically. “What would they do for the entire evening?”
“Stand on their bloomin pedestals!”
“They wouldn’t be able to hold their poses for longer than ten minutes.”
“They does what I pays ’em for,” Derek insisted.
“Mr. Craven,” Worthy said, his usually calm voice edged with frustration, “even if your idea were feasible, which it is not, I believe it would lend the event a tawdry and lurid atmosphere not in keeping with the usual standards at Craven’s.”
Derek frowned. “What the ’ell does that mean?”
“He means,” Lily’s laughing voice came from behind them, “that it would be outside the bounds of good taste, you lowbrow cockney.”
Derek’s dark face lit with a smile as he turned to see Lily standing there. Dressed in a lavender gown embroidered with silver thread, she resembled a dainty confection. Lily launched herself at him, laughing as he swung her around and set her on her feet.
“ ’Ere’s Miss Gypsy, back from the country,” Derek said. “Did you give Raiford ’is come-uppance?”
“No,” Lily replied, rolling her eyes. “But I’m not through with him yet. She gave a sigh of pleasure at being in the familiar atmosphere of the club, and beamed as she caught sight of the factotum. “Worthy, you handsome devil. How have things been without me?”
The small, bespectacled man smiled. “Only tolerable. You are a welcome sight as always, Miss Lawson. Shall I order something from the kitchen?”
“No, no,” Lily said immediately. “Monsieur Labarge will want to stuff me with all his latest puddings and pies.”
“You needs it,” Derek commented. “No bigger than a titmouse. Come ’ere.” He slid an arm around her narrow shoulders and walked her to a private corner. “You looks like ’ell,” he remarked.
“That seems to be the general opinion today,” she said dryly.
Derek’s sharp gaze detected the feverish brightness of her eyes and the pinched look about her a mouth. “What’s the matter, lovey?”
“Raiford turned out to be impossible,” Lily replied briskly. “I’m resorting to drastic measures.”
“Drastic,” he repeated, watching her closely.
“To begin with, I’ve abducted his younger brother.”
“What?” Derek followed Lily’s pointing finger until he saw the handsome blond boy waiting at the far end of the room. The lad was turning a slow circle, viewing the opulent surroundings with wide eyes. “ ’Oly ’ell,” Derek breathed in amazement.
“Holy,” Lily corrected, and looked at him with a sort of sheepish defiance. “I’m setting a trap for Raiford. Henry’s the bait.”
“Jayzus, you done it this time,” Derek marveled softly, in a tone that sent a chill down Lily’s spine.
“I want you to keep Henry for me, Derek. Just for one night.”
All the friendly concern faded from Derek’s face. He gave her a frosty stare. “I never lets chiwdren in my club,”
“Henry’s an angel. He won’t give you any trouble.”
“No.”
“At least come and meet him,” Lily pleaded.
“No!”
“Please, Derek.” She tugged at his arm. “Henry’s been so excited at the prospect of meeting you. He considers you the most important man in England, aside from the king.”
Derek’s eyes narrowed.
“Please,” she wheedled.
“Awright,” he finally said. “I says ’ello, then ’e’s off.”
“Thank you,” Lily said, bestowing several approving pats on his arm.
Muttering under his breath, Derek allowed her to pull him to the doorway, where Henry was waiting. “Mr. Craven,” Lily said, “I would like to present Henry, brother of the earl of Raiford.”
Adopting his most courteous smile, the one usually reserved for visiting royalty, Derek gave Henry an elegant bow. “Welcome to Craven’s, milord.”
“It’s even better than I imagined,” Henry exclaimed. He seized Derek’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Smashing! Capital!” He left them and searched the room like an inquisitive puppy. His small hand dipped into a bowl of cribbage-counters, then traced the elaborate backs of the Empire-style chairs. He approached the hazard table as reverently as if it were a shrine.
“Does you play?” Derek asked, vaguely amused by the boy’s enthusiasm.
“Not well. But Miss Lawson’s teaching me.” Henry shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe I’m here. Craven’s. Damn and blast, what it must have taken to build this place!” He regarded Derek with an awestruck expression. “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. Only a genius could have done this.”
“Genius,” Derek snorted. “Not by ’alf.”
“But you are,” Henry insisted. “To think of starting with nothing and going so far above your buttons…Craven’s is the most famous club in London. Hang me if you ain’t a genius! Me and the fellows at school, we all admire you more than any man alive!”
Lily thought that Henry was laying it on a bit thick.
Derek, on the other hand, was warming rapidly to the boy. He turned to Lily with a pleased expression. “Certainly no cock-brain, this one.”
“I’m jus
t repeating what everyone says,” Henry said sincerely.
Suddenly Derek gave him a hearty clap on the back. “Bright as a new copper,” he said. “Fine boy. Come with me, you little cheeser. I ’as some comely wenches for you to meet.”
“No, Derek,” Lily warned. “No dice, drinking, or women for Henry. His brother would have my head.”
Derek looked down at Henry with a crooked grin. “What, does she think this ’ere is, a bloody nunnery?” He dragged Henry away with him, assuming a lecturing tone. “Finest girls in England I ’as. There’s no man what’s ever got crinkums or the clap from my wenches…”
Lily and Worthy exchanged rueful glances. “He likes the boy,” Worthy commented.
“Worthy, don’t let anything happen to Henry. Keep him out of sight. He can amuse himself with a deck of cards for hours at a time. Make certain he’s not corrupted or harmed in any way.”
“Certainly,” the factotum assured her. “When would you like him returned?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Lily sighed thoughtfully, her forehead puckered in a frown.
In a courtly manner Worthy crooked his elbow. “I’ll escort you to your carriage, Miss Lawson.”
Lily slipped her hand through his arm. “By this time Lord Raiford should be quite frantic, wondering where Henry is.”
“Did you leave him a note?” Worthy inquired matter-of-factly.
“No, the earl’s no fool—it won’t take long for him to figure out what became of Henry. He’ll be in London by nightfall. And I’ll be ready for him.”
Whether Worthy approved or not, he showed her the same loyalty he gave to Derek. “How may I be of assistance?”
“If by chance the earl shows up here first, direct him to my terrace. You must keep Henry hidden from him, or my plan will be ruined.”
“Miss Lawson,” the factotum began respectfully, “I consider you to be one of the most valiant women I’ve ever known—”
“Why, thank you.”
“—but are you quite certain you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course I do!” A smile of pure delight spread across her face. “I’m in the process of teaching Lord Raiford a lesson he’ll never forget.”
When Henry’s absence was noted and the search for him began, one of the housemaids revealed that she had seen the young master conversing with Miss Lawson shortly before her departure. The driver returned from London, and was startled to be on the receiving end of a barrage of questions. He admitted he had not seen Master Henry entering or leaving the carriage, but Henry was an agile lad and could have maneuvered about undetected. Alex was certain his brother was with Lily. The blasted woman had taken Henry with her, in order to make him come to London. Well, he would go and take the city apart, brick by brick. He couldn’t wait to reach her…and make her rue the day she had decided to cross him.
It was dark by the time he reached Grosvenor Square. Alex bounded out of the chaise-and-four almost before the driver had stopped the vehicle. Wearing a grimace, he strode up the steps of No. 38 and hammered on the door with his fist. After a few moments the door was opened by a tall, bearded butler. The man was impressive. Hewore his dignity like an invisible mantle, his expressionless face set with authority. “Good evening, Lord Raiford. Miss Lawson has been expecting you.”
“Where’s my brother?” Without waiting for a reply, Alex pushed his way inside. “Henry!” he bellowed, setting the walls to trembling.
“Lord Raiford,” the butler remarked politely. “If you’ll come this way—”
“What of my brother?” Alex barked. “Where is he?” Not bothering to match the butler’s decorous pace, Alex leapt up the stairs two at a time. “Henry? Henry, I’m going to tear you limb from limb! And as for Miss Lawson…she’d be wise to climb on her broomstick and escape before I reach her!”
Lily’s cool, amused voice drifted to him from the hall branching off the second landing. “Raiford. After being ejected from your home, I suppose you think you have every right to barge into mine!”
Following the voice, Alex flung open the first door he came to. He discovered an empty sitting room. “Where are you?”
Her maddening laughter drifted down the nail. “In my bedroom.”
“Where’s Henry?”
“How should I know? Do stop that atrocious bellowing, Raiford. I doubt a wounded bear could produce more noise.”
Alex charged to the next door. Flinging it open, he stepped into the bedroom. He had a brief impression of gilded beechwood and green silk hangings. Before he could turn his head, he felt a crashing blow to his skull. With a grunt of pain and surprise, he fell to his hands and knees. The scene blurred, and black mist rolled over him. Clutching at his head, he sank into the flooding darkness.
Lily lowered her arm, still holding the bottle. She stood over him, feeling a strange mixture of dismay and triumph. Alex looked like a felled tiger, his golden hair bright against the jewel tones of the carpet. “Burton!” she called. “Come here at once. Burton, help me lift Lord Raiford to the bed.”
The butler came to the door of the bedroom. For a long moment he stood there, his gaze traveling from the cloth-wrapped bottle in Lily’s hand to Alex’s prostrate form. He had witnessed hundreds of Lily’s scrapes and escapades, but this was the first time his composure had ever been visibly rocked. He managed to school his expression into impassiveness. “Yes, miss,” he finally said, and bent to heft Alex’s large body over his shoulder.
“Careful, don’t hurt him,” Lily said anxiously. “I mean…not any more than I already have.”
Panting with the effort, Burton lowered Alex’s slack body to the bed. Then Burton stood and restored his own appearance, straightening his coat, vest, and tie. He finished by smoothing down a tuft of gray hair that was standing up from the side of his head. “Will there be anything else, Miss Lawson?”
“Yes,” she said, going to sit by Alex’s prone form. “Ropes.”
“Ropes,” Burton repeated emotionlessly.
“To tie him up, of course. We can’t have him getting away, can we? Oh, and be quick about it, Burton. He might wake up soon.” She regarded her prisoner thoughtfully. “I suppose we should remove his coat and boots…”
“Miss Lawson?”
“Yes?” She looked up from her contemplation of Alex, her brown eyes fawnlike.
Burton swallowed hard. “May I ask how long the earl will be staying with us?”
“Oh, just for tonight. Have his carriage brought to the back and lodge his driver for the evening.”
“Very good, miss.”
While Burton went in search of the ropes, Lily approached the slumbering giant on her bed. All of a sudden she was rather amazed at what she had done. Alex did not stir. Lying there with his eyes closed, he seemed young and vulnerable. His feathery lashes cast shadows on the highest edge of his cheeks. Without his familiar scowl, he looked so…innocent. “I had to do it,” she said remorsefully. “I had to.” She leaned over him, smoothing his tousled blond hair.
Deciding to make him more comfortable, she untied his black cravat. The silk was still warm from his skin. Contemplating him silently, she unfastened his waistcoat and the top two buttons of his white linen shirt. Her knuckles brushed the taut skin at the base of his throat. An odd, pleasant shiver went through her.
Wonderingly she touched his golden cheek, the stern edge of his jaw, the silky curve of his lower lip. The growth of his night-beard had begun to show, turning his jaw and chin into scratchy velvet against her fingertips. No fallen angel could have possessed a more compelling mixture of darkness and light. She saw the strain on his face, a tenseness that remained even in slumber. Too much drinking, too little sleep. And grief from long ago had cast its indelible shadow on his features.
“We’re alike in some ways, you and I,” she murmured. “Pride, temper, and obstinacy. You’d move a mountain to get what you want…but you, my poor brute, don’t even know where the mountain is.” She grinned as she recalled the way he ha
d tossed her clothes out the bedroom window.
On a sudden impulse, she bent over him, gently pressing her lips to his. His mouth was warm, unresponsive. She thought of the crudely intimate way he had kissed her in the library. Lifting her head, she stared down at him with her nose almost touching his. “Wake up, sleeping prince,” she murmured. “It’s time for you to realize what I’m capable of.”
Alex drifted slowly into wakefulness. Irritably he wondered who was pounding on a drum nearby…thump…thump… reverberating in his skull. He winced and turned his aching head against a cold, soothing pressure nearby. “There,” came a low voice. “There, you’ll be all right.” Alex squinted his eyes open, and saw the outline of a woman’s face above his. He thought he must be having another dream about Lily. Those were her eyes, the spicy color of gingerbread, and her mouth, curved into a disarming smile. He felt her soft fingertips trace over his cheek. “Damn you,” he mumbled, “Will you haunt me forever?”
Her smile deepened. “That’s entirely up to you, my lord. No, don’t move, you’ll dislodge the ice. Your poor head. I tried to hit you as gently as possible. But I had to do it hard enough that a second time wouldn’t be necessary.”
“Wh-what?” he asked groggily.
“I hit you on the head.”
Alex blinked in dawning awareness, beginning to understand it was no dream. He remembered tearing into her house, coming to her room…the blow to his head. He gave a muffled curse. Lily was sitting cross-legged beside him. He was stretched out full length on a bed. For all Lily’s show of calm concern, there was a victorious look about her that caused his nerves to crackle with warning. “Henry—”
“Don’t worry, he’s fine. Absolutely fine.” She smiled reassuringly. “He’s staying the night with a friend of mine.”
“Which friend?” he demanded. “Who?”
Her gaze turned wary. “When I tell you, don’t jump to conclusions. If I had the slightest doubt as to his well-being, I never would have—”