by Lisa Kleypas
Alex waited for her in the library, leaning over the papers on his desk. His golden head lifted as she entered the room. Lily smiled at the expression on his face, and turned to show him the rest of her ensemble. Golden pins adorned with diamond clusters were fastened in her hair, glinting among the dark curls. On her feet were small, flat gold slippers with ribbons that tied around the ankles. Alex couldn’t resist reaching out and brushing his hands over her slender body. She was exquisite and perfect, as if she were made of porcelain.
Lily came close and leaned against him temptingly. “Will I do?” she murmured.
“You’ll do,” he said gruffly, and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. Any more than that would unravel his self-control.
The ball, held at the Lyons’ London home, was even more elaborate than Lily had anticipated. Built on medieval foundations and enlarged over several centuries, the cavernous home was filled with light and fresh flowers and expensive decorations of crystal, silk, and gold. A large orchestra sent rich melodies outward from the ballroom. The moment they arrived, Lady Lyon took Lily under her wing. Lily was introduced to great numbers of people—cabinet ministers, opera singers, ambassadors and their wives, and distinguished members of the peer-age. She despaired of ever remembering more than a handful of names.
Smiling and chatting, Lily sipped from a glass of punch and watched as Alex was dragged away by Ross and a number of men. They were demanding that he arbitrate some wager. “Men,” Lily remarked dryly to Lady Lyon. “I have no doubt the wager is over how quickly a particular raindrop will roll down the window pane, or how many glasses of brandy a certain lord can drink before he topples over!”
“Yes,” Lady Lyon replied, a teasing glint in her eye. “It’s astonishing what some people will do for a wager.”
Lily held back a mortified laugh, knowing the elderly woman was referring to the infamous evening at Craven’s. “That bet,” she said with an unsuccessful attempt at dignity, “was entirely your nephew’s suggestion, ma’am. I hope I may live long enough to put the entire episode behind me.”
“When you’re my age, you’ll tell your grandchildren all about that episode, in order to shock them,” Lady Lyon predicted. “And they’ll admire you for your lurid past. Time has given me great understanding of the old saying ‘If youth knew, if old age but could.’ ”
“Grandchildren…” Lily mused, her voice soft with sudden melancholy.
“There’s still plenty of time for that,” the elderly woman assured her, misunderstanding the reason behind her sadness. “Years, in fact. I was thirty-five when I bore Ross, forty at the birth of the last, my Victoria. You still have a great deal of fertile ground, child. I suspect Raiford will sow it very ably.”
“Aunt Mildred,” Lily exclaimed with a quick laugh, “you’re shocking me!”
Just then a servant approached Lily discreetly. “Milady, I beg pardon, but there is a gentleman in the entrance hall without identification. He claims to be here at your request. Perhaps you would deign to come and testify as to his credentials?”
“I invited no…” Lily began in surprise, but her mouth snapped shut as an ugly suspicion entered her mind. “No,” she whispered, causing the servant to regard her with confusion.
“Milady, shall we compel him to leave?”
“No,” Lily gulped, and manufactured a fake smile, conscious of Lady Lyon’s sharp gaze fastened on her. “I believe I’ll go and investigate this little mystery.” She stared directly at the elderly woman and forced herself to shrug blithely. “Curiosity has always been my downfall.”
“Killed the cat,” Lady Lyon replied, looking at her speculatively.
Lily followed the servant through the handsome house to the entrance hall with its ceiling of intricate plasterwork and painted rondels. A flow of guests came in the front door, each one individually greeted by the Lyons’ efficient staff. Amidst the incoming crowd, a still, dark figure was clearly distinguishable. Lily stopped abruptly, staring at him with horror. He smiled at her and made a shallow, mocking bow, accompanied by an elaborate flourish of his dark hand.
“Can you vouch for this guest?” the servant at her elbow inquired.
“Yes,” Lily said hoarsely. “He’s an old acquaintance, a-an Italian nobleman. Count Giuseppe Gavazzi.”
The servant eyed Giuseppe dubiously. Although he was dressed in the manner befitting a nobleman—silk breeches, sumptuously embroidered coat, a starched white cravat—there was something about Giuseppe that betrayed the crudity of his character. Compared to him, Lily thought silently, Derek Craven had the bearing and gentility of a prince.
Once Giuseppe had mingled freely with the nobility, had unquestionably been one of them. It was obvious from his smug expression that he still considered himself to be. But his charming smile had deteriorated into an oily smirk, and his striking handsomeness had turned hard and common. The black eyes that had once been so soft now contained an offensive rapaciousness. Even dressed in fine clothes, he was as distinct from the other guests as a raven would be in a company of swans.
“Very well,” the servant murmured, and left her quietly.
Lily stood still at the side of the hall as Giuseppe sauntered toward her. He smiled and gestured to himself proudly. “It remind you of the days in Italy, no?”
“How could you?” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Get away from here.”
“But ’ere is where I belong, cara. I come to take my place now. I ’ave a money, blue blood, everyt’ing to belong. Like when I meet you first in Florence.” His black eyes narrowed insolently. “You make me very sad, bella, not to tell me you ’ave marry Lord Raiford. We ’ave many t’ings to talk about.”
“Not here,” she said through her teeth. “Not now.”
“You take me in there,” he insisted coolly, gesturing to the ballroom. “You introduce me, you become my, ah…” He paused and searched for the word.
“Sponsor?” she asked disbelievingly. “My God.” She put her hand over her mouth, struggling to maintain her composure, aware that people were glancing at them curiously. “Where is my daughter, you insane bastard?” she whispered.
He shook his head tauntingly. “There are many t’ings you do for me now, Lily. After, I bring you Nicoletta.”
She choked back a frustrated, hysterical laugh. “You’ve said that for twenty-four months.” She couldn’t stop her voice from rising. “I’ve had enough, enough—”
He hissed at her to be quiet and touched her arm, making her aware that someone was approaching them. “This is Lord Raiford?” he asked her, noting the man’s golden hair.
Lily glanced over her shoulder and felt her stomach throb sickly. It was Ross, his handsome face alert with curiosity. “No, his cousin.” She turned to face Ross, masking her torment with a bland social smile, but not quickly enough.
“Lady Raiford,” Ross said, looking from her to Giuseppe. “My mother sent me to inquire about your mysterious guest.”
“A friend of mine from Italy,” Lily replied easily, though inwardly she was humiliated at having to introduce him. “Lord Lyon, may I present Count Giuseppe Gavazzi, a recent arrival in London.”
“How fortunate for us,” Ross said with such overdone blandness that it was an insult.
Giuseppe preened and smiled. “It is my ’ope we will both profit from our acquaintance, Lord Lyon.”
“Indeed,” Ross replied in a regal manner reminiscent of his mother. He turned to Lily and asked politely, “Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Raiford?”
“Immensely.”
He regarded her with a thin smile. “Have you ever considered a career on the stage, Lady Raiford? I believe you may have missed your calling.” Without waiting for a reply, he strolled away in no apparent hurry.
Lily swore under her breath. “He’s going to my husband. Leave, Giuseppe, and put an end to this farce! Those seedy rags won’t fool anyone into thinking you’re an aristocrat.”
That infuriated him—she could see the
malevolence flaring in his ebony eyes. “I t’ink I stay, cara.”
Lily heard her name being called in greeting as more guests arrived. She threw them a smile and a little wave, and spoke quietly to Giuseppe. “There must be a private room nearby. We’ll go somewhere and talk. Come quickly, before my husband finds us.”
Idly rolling a snifter of brandy in his hands, Ross stood by Alex, who had gathered with the other men in the gentlemen’s room. They were all engrossed in arranging objects on a table to illustrate points as they disputed military tactics. “If the regiments positioned themselves here…” one of them was saying, sliding a snuffbox, a pair of spectacles, and a small figurine to the corner of the table.
Alex grinned and clamped the end of a cigar with his teeth as he interrupted. “No, it’s easier if they split and move here…and here…” He positioned the snuffbox and figurine so that they trapped the enemy, represented by a small painted vase. “There. Now the vase doesn’t stand a chance in hell.”
Someone else spoke up. “But you’ve forgotten the scissors and the lampshade. They’re in a prime position to charge from behind.”
“No, no,” Alex began, but Ross interrupted, pulling him away from the table.
“You have an interesting strategy,” Ross said dryly, while the others continued the battle. “But there is a flaw, cousin. You should always leave a path for retreat.”
Alex glanced back at the table assessingly. “You think I should have left the snuffbox where it was?”
“I’m not talking about the deuced snuffbox, cousin, or any sham battle.” Ross lowered his voice several notches. “I’m referring to your clever little wife.”
Alex’s face changed, his gray eyes freezing. He removed the cigar from his mouth and heedlessly stubbed it out on a silver tray nearby. “Go on,” he invited gently. “And choose your words with care, Ross.”
“I told you Lawless Lily isn’t the kind of woman a man keeps forever. It was a mistake to marry her, Alex. She’ll make a fool of you. She’s making a fool of you at this very moment.”
Alex regarded him with cold fury. He was going to beat Ross to a pulp for speaking of Lily so cuttingly, but first he had to find out what was going on. She might be in some kind of trouble. “Where is she?”
“Hard to tell,” Ross said with a slight shrug. “Just about now I would imagine she’s found a private corner, to share a passionate embrace with an Italian good-for-naught masquerading as a count. Gavazzi was the name, I believe. Sound familiar to you? I didn’t think so.” Ross’s confidence was shaken as Alex gave him a look so darkly promising that it could have come from the devil himself. Then Alex left with silent swiftness. Ross leaned back against the wall indolently and crossed his legs, assured once more that whatever he wanted in life would be his—as long as he had the patience to wait. “As I predicted,” he murmured pragmatically, “I’ll be the next to have her.”
“You’ll never put an end to this, will you?” Lily railed in the privacy of a small upstairs parlor. “It will go on forever. I’ll never have her back!”
Giuseppe crooned softly, trying to pacify her. “No, no, bellissima. It is over soon, very soon. I bring you Nicoletta. But first, you make me welcome to these peoples. You make me friends ’ere. This, this is what I work for all these years, to get the money for making me an important man in London.”
“I see,” Lily said dazedly. “You weren’t good enough for Italian society—Good God, you’re a wanted criminal there—and so now you want a place here?” She stared at him in furious disgust. “I know how your mind works. You assume that you’ll be able to marry some wealthy widow or some foolish young heiress and play lord of the manor for the rest of your life. Is that your plan? You want me to become your sponsor and gain you entrée? And you think these people will accept you on my recommendation?” She exploded with a bitter, mocking laugh, and then fought to control herself. “My God, Giuseppe, I’m barely respectable. I don’t have a thimbleful of influence!”
“You are the countess of Raiford,” he said in a hard voice.
“It’s only out of respect for my husband that these people tolerate my presence!”
“I tell you what I want,” he said inflexibly. “Now you do it for me. Then I give you Nicoletta.”
Lily shook her head wildly. “Giuseppe, this is ridiculous,” she burst out desperately. “Please, just give me my daughter. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything for you. You aren’t meant for the haut ton. You use people, and you have contempt for everyone—do you think they can’t see it in your face? Don’t you realize that they’ll find out exactly what you are?”
She started in repulsed shock as Giuseppe came to her, putting his wiry arms around her, the flowery musk of his cologne wafting in her face. He touched her chin with his hot, damp hand, and moved it to her throat. “Always you ask me, when do I bring back your baby, when do I make an end to this,” he said silkily. “Now I tell you, it will end. But after you ’elp to make me part of this world.”
“No,” she said, giving a disgusted sob as she felt his hand slide to her heaving breast.
“Remember what we ’ave together?” he whispered, confident in his powers of seduction, his body becoming aroused against hers. “Remember the way I teach you love? The way we move together in the bed, the pleasure I bring to you as we make our beautiful baby—”
“Please,” she said in a strangled voice, straining away from him. “Let me go. My husband will come soon to find me. He has a jealous temper and he won’t…”
Suddenly a terrible, agonizing coldness came over her. She stopped speaking and began to tremble. With slowly dawning horror she turned her head to find Alex in the doorway. He was staring at her in disbelief, his face stark white.
Giuseppe followed Lily’s unblinking gaze and made a slight exclamation of surprise. “Lord Raiford,” he said smoothly, dropping his hands from Lily. “I t’ink you ’ave per’aps a little misunderstanding. I leave now, and allow your wife to make the explaining, si?” He winked surreptitiously and left with a smug smile, certain Lily would smooth everything over with a few glib, wifely lies. After all, she had a great deal to lose.
Alex’s gaze did not move from his wife. They were both silent, forming a frozen tableau in the midst of the elegant room. The laughter and music of the assembly floated up to them, but it might as well have been a universe away. Lily knew she should speak, move, do something that would take the dreadful expression from his face, but all she could seem to do was stand there and shiver.
Finally he spoke. His voice was low and so raw that it was unrecognizable. “Why were you letting him hold you like that?”
In a whirl of panic Lily tried to think of a lie, something that would convince him he was mistaken, some clever story. Once she might have been able to. But she had changed. All she could do was stand there stupidly. She knew exactly how a fox felt when it had been run to ground—stiff and cowering, waiting helplessly for the end to come.
When she didn’t answer, Alex spoke again, his face contorted. “You’re having an affair with him.”
A trapped, terrified look came over Lily’s features, and she stared at him mutely. Her silence was answer enough. With a hoarse sound of pain, Alex turned away from her. A moment later, she heard his ragged whisper. “You little whore.”
Lily’s eyes brimmed with tears as she watched him stride to the door. She had lost him. Lady Lyon had been right…only death or betrayal could destroy him. Her secrets didn’t matter now. Somehow she managed to croak his name pleadingly. “Alex.”
He stopped with his hand on the closed door, keeping his back to her. His shoulders lifted and fell rapidly, as if he were trying to master emotions too violent to contain.
“Please stay,” she said brokenly. “Please, let me tell you the truth.” Unable to bear the sight of his still form, she half-turned, wrapping her arms around herself. She took a tormented breath. “His name is Giuseppe Gavazzi. I met him in Italy. We were lovers.
Not recently…five years ago. He was the one I told you about.” She bit her lip until it ached sharply. “It must disgust you, having seen that contemptible man and knowing that he and I…” She broke off with a harsh sob. “It disgusts me. The experience was so dreadful that he wanted nothing more to do with me, nor I with him. I thought I was rid of him forever. But…that wasn’t quite true. My life changed forever after that night, because I found out…I found out…” She shook her head impatiently at her own stammering cowardice, and she forced herself to continue. “I was pregnant.” There was no sound from Alex. She was too afraid and ashamed to look at him. “I had a child. A daughter.”
“Nicole.” His voice sounded thick and odd.
“How did you know that?” she asked in dull amazement.
“You spoke it in your sleep.”
“Of course.” She smiled with self-derision, tears running down her face. “I seem to be quite active in my sleep.”
“Go on.”
Lily wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve, and steadied her voice. “For two years I lived with Nicole and Aunt Sally in Italy. I kept my baby a secret from everyone but Giuseppe. I thought he had a right to know, that he might take an interest in her. He didn’t care, of course. He didn’t come to see us. Sally died during that time, and all I had left was Nicole. Then one day I came back from the market, and…” Her voice faltered. “She was gone. Giuseppe had taken her. I knew he had her, because later he brought me the dress she was wearing that day. He kept my baby in hiding and refused to give her back. He asked for money. It was never enough…he wouldn’t let me see her, and he kept demanding more. The authorities couldn’t find her. Giuseppe was involved in other illegal activities, and he was forced to leave Italy to avoid prosecution. He told me he was bringing my daughter to London, and I followed him here. I hired a Learie officer to search for Nicole. All he managed to discover was that Giuseppe had become part of an organization, an underworld that has taken root in many countries.”