by Heather Boyd
“Won’t Lord Carrington expect to see you this morning?”
“It’s too early to consider killing Carrington.”
Lilly’s face wore a sweet, worried frown. But after yet more sarcastic questioning last night, Giles feared he might strangle his friend if he started up again. He would let the viscount cool his heels awhile before they spoke again.
“I don’t understand why he should dislike me so. I don’t resemble his intended in the slightest.” Lilly pursed her lips and blew across her hot chocolate before taking a delicate sip.
Aroused by the sight, Giles shifted in his chair. “Carrington will come around in time. He’s considered very charming.”
Lilly scrunched up her nose. “Yes. So I’ve heard. I cannot give credence to the rumors though.” A wry smile tugged her lips. “You once said I bring out the worst in you. Apparently that applies to other men as well.”
Giles laughed. “As long as you don’t rush to accept other men with my particular skills as easily as you accept me, I can live with that.” He let his eyes stray, sliding over her skin the way he wished to touch her and was rewarded with a blush.
Lilly peered past him, looking at the door. “The line of gentlemen begging for my company is gone, my lord. Your unexaggerated reputation must have shamed them all into giving up their pursuits.”
He grinned. Breakfast and Lilly. He truly enjoyed starting his day with her. Now if she were just not bleeding, he would enjoy eating his breakfast off the top of her belly and entice her into more love play.
Giles froze with his fork partway to his mouth. What right did he have to use the word love? He indulged in mutual seductions, and not one of them had led him to believe that love existed for him. Yes, women liked what he could do with his body, and theirs, but in his experience that was all they required.
He forked his food into his mouth, thinking hard. He did not dislike the bachelor existence, but there were times, such as this, when he enjoyed not being alone. Admittedly, there was a constant stream of servants entering and leaving Lilly’s bedchamber, giving their behavior a thin veneer of respectability. Very thin, actually. None of them noticed the occasional caress of his hand across her thigh below the table.
Perhaps he should give some thought to taking a mistress once he returned to London. He could set her up in a fashionable area and stay a night or two each week.
The thought soured. He would prefer to stay in his own house in Mayfair, but he could imagine what his sister would do if he brought a mistress into the family home. She would howl into Town and create an embarrassing scene. No woman would endure Katarina in an outrage, and then he would have to start searching for a mistress all over again.
No, perhaps not a mistress. It would be too damned inconvenient to traipse all over London after a woman he had to pay to keep. Giles liked to keep things simple and a kept woman was anything but.
“What are your plans for the day?”
Lilly’s question hung heavy in the air between them. By the way her hands twisted, she expected him to entertain Carrington and leave her to her own devices. He’d rather be with her, but he also wanted Carrington to get to know and trust Lilly.
“Originally, I had thought to ride around the property and check on the tenant farmers, but with the rain—”
“Oh, I didn’t think of them. Do you have many to visit?”
“A few. They are so incredibly hard to get away from.”
Lilly sighed. “Despite your grumble, you sound fond of them.”
Giles grinned. “They have known me all my life and have no respect for the importance of my title. I shall be besieged by the wives and pressed to sample their cooking. The daughters will blush, stammer, and stare, and the sons will attempt to memorize everything about my person in a pitiful bid to emulate my poor self.”
“Oh, dear. Poor Giles.”
Giles threw his hands in the air. “At last, someone who understands the demands they make.”
Lilly laughed and pushed her plate aside.
Dithers rushed to take it away, but his eyes gestured to the door. Carrington loitered outside the door, leaning against the hall wall as he listened to their conversation.
When Carrington’s brow lifted accusingly Giles shook his head, and glanced at Lilly. But he found her staring off into the rain with a wistful expression on her face, unaware that they were being observed.
Giles touched her hand to draw her attention. “I shall go when the weather is better.”
Lilly’s lips lifted into a happy smile.
Sometimes Giles forgot how much time she spent indoors. Being confined, when she had only just managed to get back out of doors, must be maddening.
“I can’t imagine how horrible it would be to ride around, soaked to the skin, and be so far from the ground too.”
“You never learned to ride?”
“Oh, I learned. A future countess must ride,” Lilly mimicked, and then scrunched up her nose. “Thank heavens that nonsense is over. My mother had me tied to my horse once because I was too obvious in my attempts to avoid the lessons. You know my fear of heights. The only pleasant thing I can thank my accident for was an end to the torture.”
Despite what she revealed, Lilly gazed at him with a small smile playing across her mouth. Even though Carrington lingered at the doorway, Giles was tempted to drag Lilly into his lap and comfort her. Of course, there were bound to be kisses involved if they touched, and then Carrington would learn the truth about who was corrupting whom here.
Giles stood. “I had better go find Carrington. We will be in my study when you are ready to face another interrogation.”
Lilly pulled a face, lips twisting into a very kissable shape. “In a little while.”
Giles hurried out before he did something foolish. Carrington waited until they reached the staircase before he grabbed Giles arm and pushed him into the wall. “Breakfasting together? After everything we discussed yesterday. You’re unhinged.”
Giles shook off Carrington’s grip. His friend’s comment about his state of mind was surprisingly accurate. He did not know what had come over him. He was chasing after Lilly like a love-struck boy. Lust-struck, he corrected. This was not love.
He felt an attraction to her. An overwhelming one, most certainly. One glimpse at his trousers at any time of the day could confirm his condition, but it was certainly not love. It could not be.
They were friends, and she was incredibly lonely. “You should pay attention to your own affairs.”
Carrington didn’t comment so Giles stalked down to his study, already missing the uncomplicated conversation with Lilly. They maintained an uncomfortable silence, each developing an interest that didn’t require them to speak to each other. But after a while, he noticed Carrington fiddling with a note in his hand. “What is that you have there?”
Carrington grimaced. “The marriage contract. I had hoped to show you and see if you could find a way out of it.”
Giles sighed. “As far as I’m aware, there is nothing you can do without being sued for breach of promise. Why didn’t you speak up earlier?”
“When I found her, I couldn’t prove I hadn’t just bedded her.” Carrington shifted uncomfortably. “I was a trifle disreputable already.”
Giles scowled. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear it.”
“So,” Carrington began, “when will you be returning to London? You’ve been here much longer than you initially planned.”
Giles glanced up at the ceiling toward where Lilly resided. He wouldn’t go until her future was set to his satisfaction. Just exactly what that entailed, he didn’t want to speculate on just yet. But he honestly didn’t look forward to the day when she was gone from his life.
Footsteps approached, saving him from tendering an answer. Lilly poked her head around the door. “Am I disturbing you?”
“Always, but please come in.”
Carrington scoffed, but Lilly braved his poor welcome and paced about th
e room. Giles watched her for a moment, lingering on the curve of her cheek and the stray wisps of soft hair that would tickle his nose later that night. Sensing the heat of arousal tightening his trousers again, he dropped his eyes to the paper Carrington still held. “Give me that.”
Carrington tossed the parchment across the desk and Giles settled in to read. Couched in near-illegible scrawl was a fairly short betrothal document. He stumbled over a small section of poorly formed words. “Who wrote this?”
“Her father,” Carrington replied after coming around the desk to peer over his shoulder.
“Worst bloody penmanship in history, I should think. What the hell does that say?”
Carrington took the page and peered at the smudged text. “I cannot make it out.”
“Neither can I. Lilly, would you have a look at this please?”
Lilly moved toward them, but her expression conveyed reluctance. Did she think Carrington might snarl if she uncovered bad news? He held the paper out to her.
As she crossed to the window, Giles watched the sway of her skirts. Just a few more days and he could delve beneath them. It was a pity patience had never been a particularly noticeable element of his character. He was wound as tight as a violin string.
“It’s smudged,” Lilly pronounced, turning the page over to examine the reverse side. “But it appears to be exactly over the stipulation that you reside at a certain address. What is the document?”
“My betrothal document. How could you tell what was underneath?”
Lilly shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of idle hours to occupy. Quill nibs can leave impressions on the other side.” She handed the page back. “Did you really accept the condition that you reside in your father-in-law’s home for the duration of the marriage?”
“What?” Carrington scrambled to the window and Lilly patiently pointed out the letters.
“Is she right?” Giles crossed the room and, while Carrington was distracted, looped an arm about Lilly’s waist. He squeezed and had the pleasure of seeing a proper smile cross her face.
“She is.” Carrington slumped against the window frame. “All I can hope for now is an act of God, or for Miss Faversham to call the whole thing off to save us both an unhappy future. I don’t like my chances.”
Lilly sighed. “I don’t like your chances either. The Favershams are evil.”
~ * ~
“Your letters, milord.”
Dithers placed them on his desk, and a thick letter in the pile stood out. Recognizing the heavy perfume in the air, he slid it out. Giles stared at it a long moment then tore it in half.
He was done with Sabine Montgomery. He’d read her last letter. Laced with possessive tones, Sabine had demanded his return to London. Something strange was going on with him if he could not rouse a hint of enthusiasm for London life.
“I take it that wasn’t good news?” Carrington asked, lifting his nose from his brandy long enough to peer across the room with an unsteady gaze.
“Sabine.”
“Persistent?”
“Suffocating.”
Carrington sat forward. “I may have been wrong about your Lilly.”
About time, and a great relief. At least a truce of sorts had developed between Lilly and Carrington over lunch, but Giles had worried that might have been only because of the viscount’s distraction over the swindle of his betrothal.
Giles blew out a breath. “Of course you’re wrong.”
“I should have been more concerned for her because you seemed very likely to leap the luncheon table and devour her. Almost couldn’t finish my meal. No offence to Cook, of course.”
“I think—”
The sound of horse and carriages on the drive ended what ever Giles was going to say. He was at the front window in a heartbeat and saw with horror that Lord Winter had returned. Lilly. He smacked his fist into the window frame and turned for the door trying not to think about the future.
Lilly’s time alone with him was gone. He slowed before he exited the house, his butler and Carrington close on his heels, as another thought slammed home. Most of his satisfaction came from the uncomplicated companionship they had shared. He had been happy. Dear lord, that was certainly finished now.
On the steps, Giles was annoyed to see that Lord Winter had brought another guest with him, Mr. Bartholomew Barrette. A cousin of Lilly’s, if Giles remembered correctly. Seclusion at Cottingstone was turning into a regular house party. His mother had held the last one, and that was the sad occasion of Lilly’s injury.
“Lord Winter, what a pleasure to see you, sir. You should have sent word of your impending arrival.”
Lord Winter looked harassed, and Giles found himself measuring the interloper. The cousin stood a little under Carrington’s lanky height, but possessed none of his style. The man was a peacock of the worst sort.
“Good to see you, Daventry, and very glad to catch you at home. Do you mind if I stay a day or two? I have an overpowering need to devour some of your exceptional brandy before I return to London.” He glanced sideways. “My nephew, Mr. Bartholomew Barrette.”
“Barrette.”
“Lord Daventry.”
Simple and straight to the point. At least the man didn’t fawn all over his title as many did.
Since the old man had asked him to keep his travels secret, he supposed he should keep the charade in play until Lord Winter informed him otherwise. At least Giles had prepared Carrington by explaining Lord Winter’s particular requests about keeping Lilly’s presence secret.
“I’m afraid you will have to share the brandy, sir. Viscount Carrington, if you remember.” Carrington held out his hand.
The baron looked startled at his friend’s identity, but he recovered swiftly and, after a brief hesitation, he shook Carrington’s outstretched hand.
Giles laughed to cover the awkward greeting. “I do have a good drop stashed here, and certainly enough to share around. Please come in and let your body catch up to the carriage.”
“I’d be grateful. But I must get back to Lilly in London soon. She’s expecting me.”
Carrington coughed as they ascended the front steps and caught Giles’ eye. Giles dipped his head. Yes, they were going to play a game. So Mr. Barrette was to be left in the dark about Lilly, was he? Giles wondered how that was going to be possible when she was wandering about the manor in near fine form.
Giles pushed away his anxiety and turned to his guests, desperate to have them ensconced in the drawing room as quick as may be. At the offer of brandy, Giles could swear that Barrette looked satisfied. Perhaps he liked to indulge as much as his uncle did, but when offered brandy, Barrette was very quick to refuse. His only use, it seemed, was topping off the glasses.
As Winter divulged his plans for Lilly’s confinement over dinner, Giles knew something was wrong. He distinctly remembered Winter mentioning a trip into Wales—not Scotland.
“The situation in Scotland will be perfect for my daughter’s fragile state. Lilly will enjoy the feminine companionship of Mrs. Harris and her daughter instead of my dull attendance. The quiet of the small village will appeal to her.”
“When will you take her there?” Barrette’s question sounded like a polite inquiry, but Giles could see he hung on Lord Winter’s every word.
“Soon, soon.” Winter chuckled, a sound that rang false to Giles. “Lord Daventry must be visited with first and then Camille’s next performance attended.”
“Of course, you should not let the lady think her company unwanted. A few days relaxation, and then a period in Town to sample London’s delights should see you right for the long trip. It’s just the thing,” Giles agreed.
Winter rubbed his hands together and picked up his glass again. “Just the thing, indeed.”
Privately, Giles thought they were laying it on a bit thick, but Barrette looked to be lapping it up. He could see the other man counting out the days. Lord Winter would be lucky to get away from him at this rate. They’d made the ne
xt weeks sound like too much of an adventure.
An hour after dinner, Lord Winter was asleep by the fire and Giles was wondering why Lilly had still not joined them. She had better have eaten a tray in her room or they would have more than a few words on the subject.
Giles supposed Lilly was better off without being subjected to Mr. Barrette. The man was a crashing bore, and hinted at connections that Giles doubted were real. He was not good friends with half of the ton. Yes, this man would bear watching for the knives impaled in his victims’ backs as he climbed the social ladder.
Since Barrette made no move to tuck old Winter into bed, Giles supposed he’d best do the job. With Carrington’s help, they negotiated the drunken baron up the stairs and to his bedchamber. “Pinkerton, give us a hand with the old boy, will you?”
Giles knew right away that he had made a mistake. He should not have known the valet’s name, but Lilly had mentioned him and he’d remembered. Barrette might have heard him.
True to his fears, Barrette watched from the door, a speculative look gracing his face. Aside from casual conversation, Giles ought not to know Winter’s staff, and certainly not by name. Since Pinkerton appeared efficient and capable of handling the loose-limbed baron, Giles left him to it and bade Barrette a good night before retiring to his room, claiming he kept country hours.
~ * ~
Not long after the clock struck two, the bed dipped. Giles surged upright, found Lilly’s face with his hands and kissed her. God he had missed her this evening. When he eventually let her come up for air, he was painfully aroused. He had her in his room and on his bed. Oh, the things he wanted to do.
“Is Papa going to banish me to Scotland?”
His desire didn’t abate entirely with her question. “Were you spying on us tonight? That is a dangerous practice, darling.” Giles flicked her hair back behind her shoulders and pressed his lips to the skin below her ear.
Lilly squirmed. “You did not answer my question, Giles. Stop distracting me. Is it true?”