The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London Book 3)

by Adele Clee

  Mary had been a part of their community for years. It felt wrong to punish her for her husband’s failings. “And the other option?”

  “We help her to regain everyone’s trust. We could bring her to the castle. Let her serve as maid to Lady Ravenscroft.”

  Fabian considered his friend’s eagerness to help. While Mackenzie’s heart melted whenever he heard a sad story, did his desire to assist Mary stem from more than a need to be kind? “Did you say you knew Mary before she married Doyle?”

  A flush crept up the man’s cheeks. Even his ears turned red. “Aye, when she lived in Truro. Her father owned an inn, and she often served food and cleaned tables.”

  “And you did not think to court the woman yourself?”

  Mackenzie averted his gaze. “Well, I … she’s a good ten years younger. It’s not so much of a problem now as it was back then.”

  “I am almost six years older than Lady Ravenscroft.” Then again, the way he looked at Lillian now differed vastly from the way he’d looked at her as a girl. The thought drew his gaze up to his bedchamber window. The soft glow of candlelight radiated out into the darkness, and he wondered if his wife awaited him in bed.

  “Happen it’s of no consequence.”

  “Why? Doyle might well be dead.” When a man turned traitor, he invariably had enemies on both sides. Everyone distrusted a turncoat, even those who offered the bribe. “For all we know, Mary could be a widow.”

  Something akin to hope flashed in Mackenzie’s eyes, and Fabian cursed himself for not noticing his friend’s attachment before.

  “I’ll speak to Lady Ravenscroft. She might agree to take Mary as her maid.” It was only right he support Mackenzie’s altruistic efforts. But it was not his place to choose his wife’s attendants.

  Mackenzie inclined his head and then gathered Thunder’s reins. “I’ll take the horses to the stable. No doubt you want out of those wet clothes. And it’s your wedding night. Happen there’s a warmer place you’d rather be.”

  The thought of drawing Lillian’s body close and feeling her soft skin against his, sent his blood rushing through his veins. Of course, he’d need strength and skill in the art of seduction if he hoped to break down her barricade.

  “Then I shall bid you a good night.” The sudden urge to slip into bed next to his wife took hold. “Keep me informed should those on watch notice anything suspicious.”

  They parted ways.

  Despite the weight of his sodden clothes, Fabian mounted the stone steps with speed and agility. And yet that was not the cause of his racing heart. Reaching his chamber door, he lingered outside for a moment. If he could just stop his thoughts jumping forward to the moment he settled between Lillian’s silky thighs he might survive the next few minutes without spilling himself in his breeches.

  He turned the handle, half expecting to find the door locked. The fact it was open proved promising.

  Fabian slipped inside and eased the door closed. Wood crackled in the stone hearth, the orange glow of the fire setting a scene ripe for seduction. His gaze fell to the woman sleeping in his bed, her ebony hair draped across her shoulder, her delicate fingers clutching the pillow she used as a barrier to keep him out.

  Rooted to the spot, he listened to her gentle breath breezing through the room. Each exhalation did odd things to the hairs on his nape. Each peaceful sigh sent his thoughts scattering in opposing directions. This lady had the power to rouse chivalry in his chest and lust in his loins.

  As a gentleman, he’d be damned before he’d take a woman who didn’t want him. And so he crept over to the fire and stripped naked in the hope the heat from the flames would warm his clammy skin.

  A slight hitch in her breath forced him to glance back over his shoulder, but she had not moved and still held the same angelic look he’d witnessed moments earlier. When his muscles no longer felt numb, he washed the spots of mud from his face. The longer he stood there, bare as the day he was born, the more amorous thoughts filled his head.

  As a distraction, he found his telescope and stared out of the window. He could see the sea stretching as far as the horizon, the light from the moon casting a silvery path across the surface. He could see the heathland surrounding the castle’s high walls, the carpet of purple heather and wild yellow flowers less vibrant now. A sudden movement in the shadows drew his gaze but with neither man nor beast visible he suspected a nocturnal creature.

  Placing his telescope on the stone sill, he turned to the bed. Lillian looked so beautiful and serene the sight rendered him frozen to the spot. Devil take him. Why could he not simply climb in next to her? He’d sailed through winds strong enough to uproot trees, felt the boom of thunder shake him to his core. Surely he could lay next to a woman and do nothing but sleep.

  But this wasn’t just any woman.

  Feeling like a boy on the first day of boarding school, he peeled back the coverlet and slipped beneath the cool sheets. One plump pillow separated them. But the bag of feathers might just as well be a stone wall.

  Before closing his eyes, he took one last look at Lillian. They were joined as man and wife, bound together in the eyes of God. Somehow he had to find a way to break down her barrier. Somehow he had to make her want him.

  Lillian heard Fabian return from his search for the stranger. How could she sleep when his safety had suddenly become her priority? She’d exerted every effort to keep her breathing slow and shallow. Another awkward conversation about marriage and duty would not solve the problem. Intimacy was not something one forced. Still, catching sight of his firm buttocks as he warmed himself in front of the fire, awakened a desperate desire to be close to him.

  So why was she clinging to the pillow as if she were alone in a rough sea and it was the only thing keeping her afloat?

  An hour passed.

  The fire in the hearth no longer burned with the same intensity. The man at her side slept peacefully. Indeed, she could not tear her gaze away from the soft rise and fall of his bare chest. The urge to run her fingers over the dusting of dark hair, over the sculpted planes of his abdomen, took hold. So why were her limbs frozen, incapable of acting no matter how tempting the thought?

  Knowing sleep would elude her until she found a way to calm her thoughts, she slipped out of bed. For fear of waking Fabian, she padded over to the fire and stood there warming her hands. The glow gave off enough light to read, though all the books stacked on the side table related to philosophy. After her dreadful experiences, she did not need an education in the principles of behaviour. Besides, she had Fabian to challenge her viewpoint now.

  “Come back to bed, Lillian.” Fabian’s voice was deeper and raspier than usual. The sound stroked her senses. The man made it impossible for her to fight her attraction.

  “I’m not tired.” It took her a moment to rouse the courage to turn around. The sight of him sitting up on his elbows, of his mussed hair and bristly jaw stole her breath. “I thought I might read.” She gestured to one of two chairs flanking the fire.

  “Do you desire company?”

  Oh, why had he used that word? Since marrying Fabian she suddenly desired a great many things. An image of thick thighs and bare buttocks flashed into her mind. “No. You need sleep.”

  “Sleep is not my main priority.” His gaze drifted over the front of her chemise. “You do know that garment is practically sheer. In the light of the fire, I can see the outline of every curve.” A hum left his lips. “I can see—”

  “Yes, yes. Perhaps it’s not the best choice, but I have nothing else to wear to bed.” Her cheeks burned, and she moved to the window. Each step seemed clumsy and awkward under the weight of his stare.

  “Oh, I’m not complaining.”

  She picked up the telescope and gazed out at the sea. Well, she pretended to look, but the naked man in the bed behind her dominated her thoughts.

  “How do you find the view?”

  “Breathtaking.”

  “I agree.” He sighed. “It’s rather
spectacular from this angle, too. When you lean forward the material clings to every place a husband can dare to look.”

  Lillian tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She daren’t move. All she could do was grip the brass object, stare out into the night and wait for her heart to stop hammering in her ears.

  She followed the moon’s reflection on the water, all the time aware of Fabian’s gaze caressing her back. “After such a terrible storm, the night is calm and peaceful.” Unlike the whirlwind of emotions wreaking havoc with her body. “There’s enough light to see quite far into the distance.”

  “If you look west you can see the church. If you’re struggling to find it, I can offer my assistance.”

  She brought her focus back to the castle wall, hoping to trace the path along the coastline to the small stone building where she had pledged her troth. Her gaze drifted past the tall shadow mistaking it for a tree. But there were no trees on the heathland. Holding the scope close to her eye, she skimmed back to the strange grey outline.

  “Have you found it?”

  “I’ve found something.” The shadow stopped moving, and she realised it was a man. The moon cast an eerie sheen over the figure’s face. Lillian’s heart dropped like a lead weight into her stomach. “There’s a man outside.” Something about him seemed familiar. It wasn’t Vane. This man had a bulky frame, fat as opposed to solid muscle.

  “Did you say a man?”

  The figure raised his chin and looked up at the castle giving a better view of his face. Lillian blinked rapidly. The telescope slipped from her hand. She gasped, her throat so tight she could barely breathe. “It—it’s the pock-faced man.” The words were a strangled cry.

  Fabian threw the coverlet back and jumped out of bed. Undeterred by his nakedness he strode over to the window, picked up the telescope and looked out at the monster who’d haunted her dreams for weeks.

  “What the blazes?”

  Lillian stood a mere inch from hard muscles and bronzed skin, and tried to regain her composure. All thoughts should have been on the beastly figure outside who had somehow followed her to Raven Island. But how could she think of anything but the impressive gentleman at her side? She watched him, mesmerised by the bulging biceps in his arms. Try as she might, she couldn’t prevent her gaze dropping to his narrow hips, lower still.

  “It’s hard to see clearly from this angle,” he complained.

  “Indeed.” Her word was more a purr.

  “You’re certain it’s the man who frightened you in London?”

  “I’m certain. I shall never forget the evil look in his eye.”

  Fabian handed her the telescope and turned to face her. “Stay here.”

  Dwarfed by the expanse of his bare chest, she gulped. “Why, what do you intend to do?”

  “The only way to find out what he’s doing here is to ask him.”

  Fear gripped her. “Surely you don’t mean to go out there?” She touched his arm and their eyes locked.

  “Why else is he here if not for you? I want to know how he knew where to come and why. I made an oath. I promised you freedom, not a life where you’re confined to your room and under constant threat.”

  She glanced at the window, looking for the source of the sudden chill in the air. “Fabian, he does not seem like the sort of man who likes talking. What if he hurts you?”

  A smile touched the corners of his lips. He bent his head and brushed a chaste kiss over her mouth. “He won’t. Regardless of what happens, you’re to stay here.”

  He did not give her a chance to reply. In less than a minute, he’d thrown on breeches, boots and a shirt. She hadn’t realised that watching a man dress could be so enthralling.

  “Lock the door,” was all he said as he darted from the room.

  Lillian paced the floor. Fabian had left without a sword or pistol. What use were fists if the beast had a weapon? She would call Mackenzie if only she knew which room was his.

  Knots formed in her stomach. The Lord saw fit to punish her at every turn. Was she to lose her husband, too? She clutched the locket at her throat. Many times she’d been powerless to prevent Fate’s cruel hands. But she was tired of being weak and vulnerable.

  With steely determination, she strode through the connecting door and into her chamber. She found the mahogany box, removed and loaded the pistol. With no time to dress she returned to Fabian’s room, pushed her feet into her slippers, grabbed his damp coat from the floor and shrugged into the garment.

  The corridors were empty. No one stood guard at the gate. Relief flooded her chest. Surely Fabian’s man had accompanied him in his pursuit of the stranger. Lillian slipped out into the night, realising her mistake as soon as she crossed the heathland and spiky sprigs of heather stabbed her toes. Silk slippers were no match for sturdy boots when it came to midnight hikes.

  Still, she fought on, eager to find Fabian.

  Gruff shouts reached her ears. Squinting in the darkness, she noticed two black figures in the distance. Only when they merged into one did she realise they were wrestling. Lillian cocked her pistol and crept closer.

  “You’ll tell me what I want to know damn it.” Fabian punched the man hard on the jaw. The beast stumbled back but kept his footing and followed with a right-handed jab Fabian was agile enough to dodge. “What is she to you?”

  Bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, Fabian dealt the man a blow to the stomach. The figure groaned but lunged forward. He grabbed Fabian around the waist and tackled him to the ground.

  Lillian thought to take aim as a warning, but she had one shot and knew to use it wisely.

  The men rolled around amidst the low growing vegetation. Punches flew. Despite numerous grunts and groans, it was impossible to tell who had the upper hand. If this were a boxing match, she’d put her money on Fabian. But based on brute strength, the pockmarked man was a force to be reckoned.

  “Go near her again and I’ll kill you.” Fabian’s threat hung in the air. He pushed the rogue onto his back and struck him hard on the nose. A sharp cracked accompanied the spurt of blood and an agonising howl.

  “Not if I kill you first.”

  A flash of light caught Lillian’s eye. Only when the rogue raised his hand did she notice he’d drawn a blade. With no time to think, she aimed and fired. The ball flew through the air at lightning speed, hit the metal tip and sent the knife flying out of the man’s hand.

  “What the—? You almost blew my damn fingers off.”

  “Trust me. Had that been my intention I would not have missed the target.” Arrogance infused her tone. “I could put a ball between your eyes from a hundred yards.”

  Fabian’s head swung around in her direction. “Lillian?”

  Having fired her only shot, she had but one option open. She stepped forward, thrust the pistol inside her coat and pretended to pull another. No doubt the beast was too stupid to notice. She aimed it at the man’s head. “Would you care to put me to the test?”

  The man raised his hands. “Don’t shoot. I’m just the hired help. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  Fabian stood and scoured the ground for the blade, finding it amid the heather.

  The beast scrambled to his feet. The deep indentations in his skin made him appear all the more dark and menacing.

  “What are you doing here?” Lillian stared at him over the barrel of her pistol. “You’ve been following me around London. Why?”

  Fabian came to stand at her side. He had a cut across his cheekbone, blood on his lip. For the tenth time in as many hours, her heart softened at the sight of him.

  “Who hired you?” Fabian demanded. “Was it Doyle?”

  The beast shrugged. “I’m paid to follow Trevane and his sister. I’m to report on their whereabouts.”

  Lillian took a step forward. “Report to whom?” Lord Martin was dead. After all this time, did his accomplice still bear a grudge? Was it his sole intention to cause mischief?

  The beast pursed his lips
. “That I cannot say.”

  “Cannot or will not?” Fabian challenged. “Do you fear this man?”

  “I ain’t afraid of no one, save perhaps a woman with a pistol.”

  “What about a Scot with a fiery temper?” Mackenzie marched to their side and thrust his hands on his hips. “Did you not know pickled bollocks are a Highland delicacy?” He turned to Lillian. “Beg your pardon, my lady, for my foul tongue.”

  “You’re forgiven, Mackenzie.”

  “I won’t get paid if I don’t report back,” the beast complained.

  “I’d be more concerned about being hit between the eyes with a lead ball.” Lillian cocked the pistol. “Now, give me the name of the person who hired you.”

  Fabian cleared his throat. “My wife is prone to sudden bouts of anger. I should do what she says else I can guarantee it won’t be pretty.”

  “Your wife?” The news threw the beast off kilter. He shuffled from one foot to the other and held his rough hands up in surrender. “All right. I’ll tell you. It was Lord Cornell. He’s the one who hired me.”

  “Cornell?” Lillian could not contain her surprise. The lord had never expressed a grievance. She lowered the pistol. Was Cornell the gentleman who paid Lord Martin to ruin her? Despite Vane’s effort to learn the truth, he had failed to uncover a name.

  “His lordship hired me when he heard you were back from Italy.”

  Fabian stepped closer. “And how did you know to come here?”

  “I knew the Scot was following the lady.” He gestured to Mackenzie, who appeared affronted that anyone would have the nerve to pry into his business. “I tracked them back to the Eight Bells. The landlord said he knew nothing, but his doxy had heard talk of the Raven. When Trevane left Vauxhall without his sister, I knew you’d made your move.”

  “That does not explain how you found the island.” Fabian balled his fists at his sides. Lillian supposed one could not offer a lady freedom if every rogue in London knew where she lived.

  “I trailed you along the coast as far as Branscombe. Most people know the Scot. Most people know he lives on the island.”