The Distinguished Rogues Bundle

by Heather Boyd

  Giles’ rejection hurt so much.

  A week ago, Lilly could not have sat as she did now. A week ago, she had excruciating pain. Giles had taken it away. Today, he had given it back tenfold. A week ago, Lilly had not fooled herself into longing for something more than what life had given her.

  She looked around the room and grimaced at the memories the space evoked. She couldn’t stay. She needed to leave Cottingstone. And that thought was enough to begin a hopeless deluge of tears and sobs that wracked her whole body, curling her into a tight ball of misery to grieve over the loss of an illusion.

  A long time later, scratching at her door intruded on her misery and she stood to let Atticus into the room. Lilly was halfway there when she heard the sound of Giles’ distinctive footsteps in the hall. She froze.

  She couldn’t see him again. He shouldn’t know how badly he’d hurt her heart. He would try to explain, offering useless words that would offer her no comfort.

  Giles believed that putting distance between them was for her own good, for her reputation. But Lilly knew he would benefit if she took herself away.

  Atticus whined. Ignoring the dog was difficult, but she stayed where she was, three steps from the door, and hoped the wolfhound would go away.

  As Giles spoke to the dog, Atticus began scratching at the door in earnest. Lilly did not want to upset the dog, but she could not unlock the door to let him in. She might see his master.

  Giles was not succeeding at calming the beast and his heavy knock shook the door. When she bit her lip to keep from answering, he tried the knob. “Lilly, open the door.”

  She would not.

  The door rattled in its frame as Giles pounded on the wood and Lilly jumped back, startled by his vehemence. She just wanted him to go away. She did not want to face anyone who had the power to hurt her so easily or without regret.

  Lilly crept to the door and dropped down near the key hole. Atticus whined as his sensitive ears picked up her movements. In a low voice, pitched directly to the dog, she commanded him to go. A yelp assured her that he obeyed and the sound of scratching stopped.

  Lilly turned away from the door. There, she was free of the man and his hound. The master could now forget she existed.

  “That was cruel, Lilly. Unlock the door.” Giles’ angry voice on the other side stopped her cold. Why did he care how she treated the dog?

  Lilly refused to talk to him. He was not her friend. She was alone, and only had herself and Papa to please. A lonely, dark future instead of the bright one she might have had.

  On the mantle was a bottle of Giles’ brandy, a remnant of her first night of temporary relief. She wrapped one hand around the bottleneck while the other hand reached for the tumbler. Brandy, as with laudanum, would take the hurt away.

  She set both down on the small writing desk, ignoring Giles’ pounding at the door. Crystal clinked against the side of the tumbler as she poured a generous amount in. Tonight, she would still be able to sleep no matter what racket he kicked up outside.

  “Lilly, what was that? What are you doing? Come out of there,” Giles ordered, but she was sipping her drink and the burn in her throat would not allow her to answer, even if she’d cared to.

  When she’d consumed the first glass, she grimly kept drinking. The laudanum had kept her blissfully numb, and she longed for that peace once again. Strong emotions were too much to handle alone. The door rattled in the frame again, but then thumping footsteps confirmed he’d gone away.

  Lilly tried to be pleased by that fact, but was saddened by his quick withdrawal. Was she truly worth so little effort? Barty had always said so. She paused with her glass pressed against her lips and tried to remember who Barty was.

  The brandy did not aid her memory in any helpful way, but she drank it down and refilled her glass again. In the warmth of the window seat, a light draft stirred the dust motes and she found them more fascinating to study than trying to remember bothersome Barty’s identity.

  When the decanter level dropped low, Lilly frowned at it and wondered how she might acquire some more. If her memory could be relied upon, there might be a bottle in the drawing room, dining room, or even Giles’ bedchamber.

  Lilly dragged herself upright and weaved her way around the table. Getting there might require effort. The room dipped and swayed beneath her feet. She smiled, happier to dance among the dust-motes instead.

  Dancing was thirsty work, so Lilly attempted to pour the last of the brandy, but the dashed glass kept moving and she spilled most of it on the tabletop. The door behind her crashed open and footsteps rushed toward her. Her sudden turn made the room rock alarmingly, but strong arms caught her before she landed on the floor.

  “Ah, Lord Wicked come to finish me off have you? Perhaps a quick dive off the bridge would save you from my company. Barty said I should have learnt to swim.”

  Lilly giggled as the dust motes swirled around the earl’s head like a divine halo. How absurd. She let her heavy head fall against his shoulder.

  “My God, how did you get this drunk so fast?”

  She struggled to pull herself away from him. “What do you care, my lord? I’m none of your concern.”

  “Lilly, please try to understand.”

  Giles did not want her friendship. He didn’t want to know her anymore. She shoved against him as hard as she could, but he was always going to be stronger.

  The sudden movement was not a good idea, however. Her stomach roiled. Since Giles held her still, Lilly had no choice but to heave up the contents of her stomach—mostly brandy—all over him.

  A long moment of silence reigned after her vulgar display and she giggled into the silence, spinning away from the stunned man. At last, he was silent. No more hurtful words passed his lips. Somehow, she found the bed and dragged herself across it.

  ~ * ~

  A proper lady should never over-indulge in stronger spirits. That one would be his first lesson for Lillian Winter, and his cautionary tale for his fellow man. Giles pulled the last of his soiled clothing from his body by the time Dithers answered his hastily rung summons.

  Unfortunately, the butler inhaled sharply at the scent of the chamber then started gagging. Had Giles understood why Lilly fought against him, he might not have behaved like a complete barbarian. Nevertheless, he still would not have let her go.

  Dumping his soiled clothes on top of the ruined carpet, Giles surveyed the consequences of their conversation. Lilly had not taken the discussion well, after all. He’d been a fool to think that his way was best.

  Clearly, Lilly hadn’t agreed. As Giles gazed at her, slumped crookedly over the bed and oblivious to the world around her, he cursed his poor judgment yet again. He’d caused her more pain, but he especially didn’t like that she had tried to drown her sorrows in hard spirits.

  Flicking her hair from her cheek, his heart ached at the sight of Lilly’s beautiful face splotched red from crying. He’d done that to her. Bastard that he was.

  And the girl would have more misery to come from the aftereffects of the brandy. She would ache like the very devil if she stayed in that position too. He rolled her so she lay straight on her back, tugging her soiled gown to her ankles for modesty.

  Dithers regained his composure and crossed to open the window, but gasped as he realized that the master of the house was completely naked. He hurried back to shut the bedchamber door. “Milord?”

  “Don’t say it, Dithers. I know how bad this looks.” He pointed to the rug. “Grab that end, will you?”

  Together they rolled the ruined carpet and clothes up into a log. Despite Dithers’ scowling assistance, they dumped the whole lot out the window, removing the majority of the smell in the process. Still naked, Giles crossed to the dressing table to search for Lilly’s perfume. He sprayed some into the air.

  He could feel Dithers’ scowl lancing his bare backside. “Dithers, go fetch me a pair of fresh trousers, a robe, and arrange to burn that carpet and everything with it, will you?
I think they are beyond repair.”

  At the washbasin, Giles rinsed his hands and then dampened a cloth, prepared to cross back to Lilly. Dithers’ expression was hostile. “Now, Dithers. Unless you want to wait for an innocent girl wake and start screaming from the very sight of me.”

  “For Miss Winter, milord.” Red-faced, the butler did as requested.

  Giles looked down at the sleeping beauty and shook his head. Now he had two problems to deal with: Lilly’s father, and an angry servant with the ability to make his life difficult. The cloth in his hand dripped water on his foot and reminded him to stop staring. He wiped over Lilly’s face and lips, reached for her hands and wiped them too, then set the cloth aside.

  He loosened her gown and eased it off her shoulders and down her body gently. There were splatter marks along the hem that needed cleaning, he reasoned. He wasn’t stripping her for any nefarious purpose. As Giles slipped her silk stockings down her legs, she moaned and he found himself rising without the annoying restriction of clothes.

  The red-splotches faded from her skin, but her mouth hung open and, to his amusement, Lilly began snoring like a baby bear. His erection remained. So did her chemise.

  Giles could not credit his physical reactions at such a time. He juggled the loose-limbed girl under the covers and tucked her into the clean, fresh linens, dragging the blankets up to Lilly’s chin as he always did.

  When he was done, he brushed his knuckle beneath Lilly’s jaw, ending her snoring. Her lips pouted, brow scrunching unhappily at his caress. He chuckled, unable to fathom how such a quiet girl’s emotions controlled him.

  He nuzzled her cheek and pressed light kisses to her skin. “Foolish girl, now I have another thing to feel guilty about. Your head will ache like the devil tomorrow.”

  Lilly turned her head until her skin touched his lips. He kissed her cheek again and continued kissing until he reached the corner of her lips. He paused there and searched for the resolve to pull away, but he’d lost it. Sometime after breaking her heart, he’d lost his own. Lilly owned him.

  Giles closed his eyes and kissed Lilly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A SCRATCH AND shuffle of papers woke Lilly from a confusing sleep. Her eyes refused to open easily, and she lay in her bed wondering why her stomach ached so badly. Her mouth tasted of ashes.

  Lilly cracked her eyes open a slit and groaned as bright light pierced her brain. Moving gingerly in the bed, she grew aware that her head throbbed in time with her blood. She wished she could remember why she felt so horrible. She’d gotten used to feeling good again.

  Yesterday.

  Yesterday, Giles had spurned her simple friendship and destroyed her fragile world. Yes, she remembered that too well. Her chest ached, competing with the pounding in her head, and she was not sure which one was the winner. Giles had pushed her away, and she had come back to her room to hide her heartbreak.

  She was always alone—it was nothing new—but she had become used to hearing Giles’ voice and the touch of his hands upon her. Now both would be gone, and the sense of loss was overwhelming. Lilly raised a hand to her face to prevent the tears in her eyes from spilling, but her limb was as heavy as lead. Pressing her fingers against her eyes, she struggled to control her emotions.

  At least her sense of smell hadn’t deserted her. Lemon scent bathed the room in a comforting balm, subtle and soothing, a counterpoint to the pain in her head. She breathed deep and dragged her hand away from her face, rubbing over her aching chest. She was foolish to allow Giles’ rejection to hurt her so badly. She curled up on her side to study the bedpost and the distant door.

  She’d locked her bedchamber door last night. The first time she’d ever thought to take such a step. Locked out the pain that waited beyond, and had even sent Atticus away. Poor dog. But if his master didn’t want her then she shouldn’t monopolize his company.

  Running her fingers over the stitching on the sheet with one finger, Lilly contemplated the mess her life had become. Nothing was ever allowed to be truly wonderful for long. She should be used to the disappointment, but as a child she’d had far different dreams than this. All she had wanted was a home and to marry someone who would be nice to her. It hadn’t seemed too much to ask.

  Lilly heard that faint sound again and realized someone else was in the room. It was probably just Mrs. Osprey. She must be reading or doing something equally involved, because she made scarcely a sound. The housekeeper must have used the spare key to slip into the room while she slept. Lilly hoped Mrs. Osprey had relocked it again. Not that Giles would seek her out anymore. He had other more interesting women to talk to.

  Not in the mood for company, Lilly lay still, as though she were asleep. She would prefer to pretend a while longer that yesterday had not happened, and that she had never become better acquainted with Giles Wexham.

  Without Atticus in the room, she could pretend that this was just another bedchamber in a long line of anonymous guest rooms across England, an unknown location seen through a brief moment of clarity. Just at this moment, she would give anything to have the fog of laudanum settle over her and blur the world away.

  But china clinked behind her, reminded her she was being rude. In fact, she was quite amazed at the silence the housekeeper had managed to maintain. Mrs. Osprey was a jittery sort of woman and stayed still for only very short lengths of time. Lilly supposed she should turn around so as not to appear impolite. It wasn’t right to take her disappointment out on Giles’ housekeeper.

  With a sigh, Lilly turned over and faced the direction of the sound, blinking her eyes as if waking from sleep, but Mrs. Osprey was not there at all.

  Giles sat at her writing table, pen poised beside his teacup with papers scattered before him. He was also looking steadily over his shoulder at her. Lilly threw the covers over her head and scurried underneath, not wanting to face his rejection again.

  However, the sudden movement made her head ache with fresh pain, and she couldn’t hold back her gasp. She cursed herself for showing weakness in front of him, and pulled the covers tighter to her head.

  The chair creaked and loud footfalls came closer, tapping against the wood like an army come to make war. Lilly buried herself deeper. Could the man not take the hint that she didn’t want to see him?

  She did wish Giles would not stomp across her chamber like that either. He could at least walk on the carpet. Surely they could hear his footfalls all the way to India.

  The bed dipped as Giles’ weight settled on the edge, and Lilly tried to squirm away. Strong arms caged her in place, then bright daylight pierced her eyelids as he pulled the covers back. She put her hands up to cover her face.

  Giles sat still, waiting her out it seemed, but she was not going to look at him no matter how long he stayed there.

  “How bad is your head today, Lilly?” Giles asked quietly, but far too loud for her throbbing head to appreciate.

  She stayed silent and wished him a thousand miles away. How dare Giles sound like he cared for her comfort, today of all days? She tried to roll over, but he did not let her. His big hands pressed high on her chest and pushed her flat on her back, then grasped her wrists and pulled them away from her face.

  Lilly truly did try to fight him, but she was nowhere near strong enough to hope to win. “Go away, Lord Daventry.”

  “No.”

  Lilly whipped her hands into fists, prepared to do something with them, but he chuckled softly and pressed her hands to the mattress beside her head, permitting her no movement at all.

  She opened her eyes to glare at him, but the effect was ruined by the way the light made her flinch. Giles’ gaze was sad when she could finally meet his eyes. Her head throbbed, so she stayed just where she was and did not fight him. It would not matter. He would go away soon enough.

  Giles remained silent. She found herself hypnotized by his blue-eyed stare and the motion of his thumb over her clenched fists. She relaxed her hands in defeat and made to pull them bac
k, but Giles twined his fingers through hers and held tight.

  She did not understand him. Surely, this was no way to keep his distance.

  “Now, I believe I asked how you were feeling this morning and I am still waiting on an answer.”

  “What does it matter? Please just go, my lord. I don’t want you here. You don’t want to be here either. Stop pretending and leave.”

  “Giles,” he reminded her. “What I wanted yesterday, and what I want today, have no bearing on the question. I need to know how you feel. You did drink a lot of brandy last night. Your head probably feels as if one hundred angry drummers are pounding away in there.”

  Giles released one hand and brushed her hair back from her eyes. Lilly froze at the look on his face. That expression was one she did not recognize. No one had ever looked at her in such a way before and she was tongue-tied.

  He continued to straighten the strands and stroked the longer lengths through to the tips. No one ever played with her hair, either, yet he seemed fascinated by it.

  “I drank brandy? I don’t remember.”

  “That’s probably just as well. It was not one of your finer moments.” Giles’ fingers brushed her ears and she squirmed away from the tickle. “Here, let me help you sit up. You have slept the day away.”

  Warm hands eased under her shoulders and Lilly gingerly moved into an upright position. While Giles settled more pillows behind her back, Lilly breathed deep, savoring his scent and wrapping it around her like a well-loved blanket.

  When she was comfortable, he sank down on the mattress edge again and just stared at her. A glance at the window confirmed that the sun was indeed setting. She had slept another day away.

  When her gaze returned to Giles, he was no longer watching her face. His bright eyes were cast somewhat lower than that. Startled, she looked down. Why had she worn the fine silk chemise to bed? She breathed in to ask, but her indrawn breath displayed what held Giles’ attention.