Stolen Kisses

by Suzanne Enoch

  “That’s the second time tonight you’ve accused me of turning my back on you,” Richard snapped, blocking Jack’s path. “As I recall, you were the one who took it upon yourself to kill Genevieve. I wasn’t in the room.”

  “Someday, Richard,” the marquis said, stepping around his brother-in-law and jabbing an accusing finger at him, “someday I’ll tell you what really happened that night.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “Go to the devil.”

  To his surprise, Richard followed him to the door. “Jack, I know you don’t want to listen to me, but the Duke of Wenford is pressing for a formal investigation into his uncle’s death. If you could manage to lie quiet for a few days, it might blow over.”

  Jack glanced over his shoulder at his brother-in-law, trying to summon a careless grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Miss Lilith, should I put more rouge on your cheeks?” Emily asked, looking critically at her mistress’s face.

  Lilith examined her reflection in the mirror. Emily had already put more blush on her cheeks than she normally preferred, but even so, the face that looked back at her was wan and pale. “No, Emily. Any more and I’ll look like a stage actress.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Besides, it wouldn’t cover the cold dread that made her hands shake, or the apprehension she saw in her own eyes. She’d begged Aunt Eugenia to wait before holding the engagement ball, but her aunt had insisted they not lose the momentum of Wenford’s interest. Which meant her family was likely worried that Dolph would change his mind, and wanted to strike while the proverbial iron was hot. She wished with all her heart that he would change his mind, but in the two times they had met since his “proposal,” he had been civil and polite and had not given any indication that he regretted his hasty decision. Of course, they had barely spoken, for she’d made every effort to ensure that they weren’t left alone together for even a moment.

  Perhaps it was her, and she was making more of her worries than she should. After all, Dolph was handsome and wealthy. And though he didn’t have the depth of respectability granted his uncle, he was well liked and well mannered, and in time might even surpass old Wenford in power and influence. It was only what he had said that night while they were dancing, and the look in his eyes while he’d spoken, that sent shivers down her spine. And the fact that Jack Faraday had warned her about him, and that she had come to place a great deal of credence in anything the Marquis of Dansbury had to say. Even when it was about her own betrothed.

  Lilith sighed miserably, finally admitting that she missed Jack. She missed seeing him, and bantering with him, and best and worst of all, she missed having him plot for ways to see her and steal kisses as though they were great prizes to be sought and won. He would never kiss her again, now, and because her family had chosen Dolph Remdale for her, she would likely never even see him again.

  Her door opened, and Aunt Eugenia, resplendent in a flowing emerald and ivory gown, stepped regally into the room. “It’s time, Lilith.” She smiled. From the sparkle in her eyes and the high color in her cheeks, she was ecstatic about the hostess role she would be playing tonight.

  Lilith remained rooted in the chair, her legs abruptly refusing to move. “Aunt Eugenia,” she said, her voice shaking, “I’m really not certain about this. It’s so sudden, and I hardly know—”

  “It’s just nerves, dear,” her aunt soothed. “I hardly knew Walter when I married him, and you know how splendidly that match ended up.”

  Poor Uncle Farlane drowned in his fishing pond a year after you were married. “Yes, but—”

  “Lilith, come along. You must be prompt for your own engagement ball.”

  “But I don’t want to marry him!” Lilith finally shouted. She began sobbing, and lowered her head into her folded arms to hide her face.

  In the shocked silence, Emily gasped.

  “You are an evil girl, Lilith!” her aunt spat. “Evil! I’ll see to this.” With a rustle of skirts, Aunt Eugenia hurried from the room.

  “Miss…Miss Lilith?” Emily’s hesitant voice came a moment later.

  “You may go, Emily,” Lilith said, her voice muffled in her arms.

  “Yes, ma’am.” With even more haste than her aunt, her maid sped out the door.

  For several minutes, Lilith could only weep. She’d already told her father she would marry anyone he chose, so long as it wasn’t Geoffrey Remdale, and now she couldn’t go through with his next choice, either. He would be so angry and disappointed. But she couldn’t! Lilith took a sniffling breath. She could tell him again that she would marry anyone else he chose, but after this she doubted he would believe her.

  “Your aunt says you don’t want to get married.”

  With a start, Lilith sat bolt upright. “Your Grace.”

  She’d expected her father, and a rush of dread ran down her spine. Little as she wanted to face his anger, she knew how to deal with her father. The Duke of Wenford was another story entirely.

  “I explained to the dear woman that you were suffering from a case of the nerves, and that you only needed to have me reassure you that you were making the right decision.”

  Lilith wiped her eyes and stood. “Your Grace, this has all simply happened too quickly. Surely neither of us wants to be left with any doubts about—”

  Dolph took a slow step closer. “I have no doubts at all.”

  “But you hardly know me,” she protested.

  The new Duke of Wenford reached into the pocket of his gray evening coat. “I think I know you quite well,” he said, lifting his hand.

  Dangling from his fingers was a single pearl drop earring clasped by silver. Her pearl earring. Lilith stared at it for a moment, blanching. “I’m…I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she stumbled.

  “Oh, I think you do,” he returned. “As soon as I saw my uncle, I figured that Jack Faraday was responsible for his ending up where and how he did. No one else would have the gall. Imagine my surprise, though, when I discovered your pearl earring beneath Uncle Geoffrey’s body.”

  “Your Grace, I—”

  “Let me finish!” he snapped. “You are going to marry me. If you don’t, I’ll make certain everyone knows that you and Dansbury are lovers, and that the two of you conspired to murder my uncle.”

  Again Lilith could only stare. The rumor alone would kill her father. “Why?” she whispered, shock turning her hands cold.

  He smiled. “Because Dansbury wants you.”

  She took a step forward, surprised at the mingled excitement and dread those words sent through her. “Then you’ve already won, because my family would never allow me to marry Dansbury, even if I wanted to.”

  “Which you don’t, of course,” he prompted.

  “Which I don’t,” she repeated stiffly.

  “Which doesn’t matter,” Dolph continued in the same tone. “You are a beautiful woman of good background, in spite of your mother’s unfortunate lack of restraint.” He examined the earring for a moment, then looked back at her. “And no doubt you will work doubly hard to be a quiet and complacent wife.” He smiled, the expression not reflected in his eyes. “And every time Dansbury looks at you, he’ll know he lost. To me.”

  “This is madness,” Lilith protested, more than horrified now. She edged toward the door. She’d heard of marriages for title, convenience, money, or, as in her case, respectability. But to wed simply to win some sort of game of one-upmanship was unbelievable.

  “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Dolph replied, ugly anticipation coming into his eyes again. “The only pity is that Dansbury will likely be arrested before our wedding. We’ll have to visit him in prison.”

  This was all wrong. And it wasn’t just Wenford’s sick motivation for marrying her, but also in the way he was using his uncle’s death. She could almost hear Jack coolly pointing out that Dolph hadn’t even bothered a show of grief, not even for propriety’s sake. And if Wenford had been truly concerned about the cause o
f his uncle’s death, he wouldn’t have kept her earring hidden until he could use it to force her into submission.

  “So, my dear, do you join me in your ballroom? Or do I go alone and express my opinion regarding this earring and the Marquis of Dansbury?”

  “You are a monster!” she spat, glaring at him.

  “I think you’ll grow to like it,” he returned, smiling again. He stepped forward and cupped his big, soft hands on either side of her face, then leaned down and kissed her.

  It was horridly wet and sloppy and cold, and Lilith recoiled. Jack’s kisses were so different, so exhilarating, that she could hardly believe the same physical action was involved. Which meant one of two things—either Jack was a stupendously proficient kisser, or she was in love with him.

  “Don’t think too hard, girl,” Dolph said, obviously not reading her thoughts. “Your answer should be obvious, even to a female.”

  She needed time to sort out this disaster, and to determine how and if she could possibly escape from it. She needed to talk to her father, to figure out how she could warn Jack about Dolph and the earring, and to untangle her own growing suspicions about the old duke’s death. Slowly, trying to hide her repulsion, she held out her hand. “I shall go with you,” she stated.

  “Good girl.”

  The evening was a nightmare of familiar faces congratulating her and wishing her well—friends and acquaintances who had no idea how little she wanted to be there, or how much she detested her newly betrothed. From the cold and heartless manner in which she had entered London, determined to find the most respectable match available, they had no reason to doubt her happiness. And now that she had realized what she didn’t want in a husband, it was too late.

  Or perhaps it wasn’t. As the evening finally began to wane, she spied her father standing beneath the garden window, basking in triumph. The moment her betrothed was occupied with his cronies and the crowd had thinned enough for her to make her way over to her father without being intercepted, she approached him, trying to decide how much she dared tell him about Dolph and the late duke’s death.

  “Papa.”

  “You have made me a happy man, daughter.” He smiled, taking her hand. “Wenford’s talking of getting a special license so you can be wed by the end of the Season. Perhaps by the end of the month.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she continued.

  “Your aunt told me about the fit you threw earlier.” For a moment his countenance darkened. “You might have ruined everything. Be grateful that His Grace was so understanding.”

  “Papa, he…he frightens me.”

  Her father lifted an eyebrow. “Frightens you? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a true gentleman. And he dotes on you.”

  Lilith took a breath. “Might we go somewhere private for a moment?”

  “Lilith…” he warned.

  “Just for a moment, Papa,” she insisted. “Please.”

  He scowled. “All right. All right.” With obvious reluctance he gestured her into his private office. As soon as he closed the door, he rounded on her. “So what is it this time? You don’t like His Grace, but you’ll marry anyone else I choose?”

  She’d known he wouldn’t be easy to talk to. All she did know was that she absolutely did not want to marry Dolph Remdale. And that the man who had caught her heart was the last person in the world she could ever hope to marry. “I know I don’t—”

  “You tried that already!” He lifted a book and slammed it down on his desk again. “Do you intend to give me the same promise until you’ve gone through every unmarried lord in London? This is nonsense! You are engaged to His Grace, the Duke of Wenford, and you will marry him!”

  “But I truly don’t like him!” Lilith shouted back.

  “You are an evil, flighty girl, just like your mother! If old Wenford hadn’t been murdered by Dansbury, he would have made certain of things. I knew you couldn’t be reasoned with.”

  Lilith opened her mouth—then, suddenly suspicious, shut it again. “You promised me I wouldn’t have to marry old Wenford,” she said slowly.

  He glared at her for a moment, then looked away. “You would have changed your mind,” he muttered.

  Abruptly Lilith remembered her father’s puzzled and disappointed search of the drive the morning Wenford had expired and Jack had carted off the body. “You expected him to call on me that morning, when you dragged William and Aunt Eugenia off to Billington’s breakfast and gave the servants the day off,” she accused, hardly believing she was daring to speak to him so, much less what it meant.

  “You would have been a duchess,” he growled. “And it’s arranged so you will be a duchess. And that is final. Now, say goodnight and go up to bed before you cause any more mischief. I swear, you’re worse than William.”

  Lilith wanted nothing more than to escape from the party, and she hurried upstairs. The evening had begun as a nightmare and had only grown worse. Her father had known what the old duke was like. By leaving the two of them alone together, he had also known what would transpire. She would have been compromised, and would have been shamed into marrying Old Hatchet Face rather than admit to having been ruined! It was in essence the same thing Dolph threatened her with. Marry him, or let everyone think she had become Dansbury’s lover.

  She shut her door and sat on the edge of her bed. All the proper men she knew in London were turning out to be monsters, and the only one who seemed to care for her happiness, the only one who ever listened to what she had to say, was Jack Faraday. Lilith sighed, heartbroken. Whatever did or didn’t lie between them, Jack had no idea that Wenford had her earring. Nor was he aware that he might actually have been correct in his speculation that Dolph knew more about his uncle’s death than he confessed to.

  She paced restlessly about the room. If she told William about it, her brother would try to take care of things on his own, and likely would ruin whatever hope she had of escaping from this insanity.

  Lilith paused, hugging herself and looking out the window into the dark streets of Mayfair. Maybe escaping wasn’t such a bad idea.

  Chapter 14

  “My lord,” Peese said patiently, as he balanced two lamp shades and a chair in his arms, “spring cleaning is, I believe, supposed to be done in the spring.”

  “Shut up, Peese, before I hand you your papers again,” Jack said absently, as he opened another of the half a hundred trunks stored in his substantial attic. “Take those downstairs and add them to the rest. I’m certain Father Donaldson will find a better use for them among the poor than they’ve found in the damned attic.”

  “But some of these are heirlooms, my lord.”

  “And they’ve been looming over my head long enough. Downstairs, Peese. And tell Frederick and Peter that I have noticed their absence and I expect them back up here posthaste.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  For the past three nights, Jack had spent a great deal of time and energy drinking. And still he’d been unable to forget Lilith. Tonight, considering the events going on at Benton House, the idea of drowning himself in brandy had little appeal. Tonight was her engagement ball, and all the good ton would be there. He must still have some pride remaining, for he simply didn’t want to be seen out among the bad ton, whether that was what he had become or not.

  So he’d spent the last three hours burrowing through his attic, cleaning out years of accumulated heirlooms which had been of little purpose when they were acquired, and were absolutely useless now. Donating them to charity felt right, though admittedly it was a very small step toward salvation for a man with both feet firmly planted in Jericho. It did keep his nearest neighbors guessing about whether he was packing to leave the country, which at least provided some amusement. He straightened to stretch his back, slapping a layer of dust from his buckskin breeches. It must be past two in the morning, but he certainly had nowhere to be. And nowhere to go.

  “My lord?”

  “Peese, if I don’t see Freder
ick and Peter upstairs in two minutes, I will—”

  “My lord, you have a caller.”

  “I’m not home.”

  “Yes, my lord, but it’s a female.”

  Jack paused and turned around. “Antonia?” he asked, hoping it was not.

  Peese shook his head, and unless Jack was mistaken, he hesitated for a moment. “The other woman, my lord.”

  “Damnation, Peese, can you narrow it down somewhat?”

  “The one who came calling last week, my lord. The one you took into the morning room.”

  Jack froze, his heart hammering. “Lilith?”

  His butler nodded. “I believe that was what you called her, my lord.”

  The marquis swallowed, the thoughts coursing through his mind having nothing to do with how angry and disappointed he’d been with her, and with himself for becoming so caught up with the cold chit. Probably because she wasn’t cold, and he didn’t want to see her wed to Dolph Remdale. He strode out of the attic and hurried down the two flights of stairs. Something must have gone very wrong for her to be here under any circumstances, and at two in the morning, he couldn’t even imagine what might have happened. But if Dolph had hurt her, he was dead.

  The drawing room door burst open, and Lilith turned with a start. Jack stared at her, his expression intensely worried. He was out of breath and covered with dust, his dark hair disheveled as the rest of him. He was without his cravat, and coatless, his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his arms. Dansbury was breathlessly handsome, and she couldn’t have taken her eyes off him if she’d wanted to.

  “Jack,” she whispered in relief. She’d been so worried he’d be at one of his clubs, or worse, that he’d refuse to see her. Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “He…has my…earring,” she managed. “He said he’d…he’d use it to…to tell everyone—”

  “Wenford has your pearl earring?” Jack interrupted sharply, shutting the door behind him.