The Distinguished Rogues Bundle

by Heather Boyd

  In the dark he could lie, but he preferred not to. “Not Scotland—a place in Wales. He went to investigate the possibility of settling you there. I don’t know why he speaks as he does in front of Barrette. But the separation will not happen now, Lilly. You are so much better. Your pain is far less and I have noticed a gratifying improvement in your health. He will not send you away from him now, I am sure of it.”

  “Did you know of his plans before? When he left me here?”

  “He did mention them,” Giles admitted. “He was very upset by the possibility, but he thought it was for the best. The doctors had admitted defeat and he just wanted your comfort assured.” Giles ran his hand down her nightgown-clad arm. “Remember, you were very ill when you first came, Lilly.”

  “What am I going to do, Giles?”

  “Show him you have improved,” he told her, firm in his belief that it was the best course. The only course.

  “I cannot, because I would need to attribute my improvement to something. I could not think of any way to do it and not implicate you.”

  Stunned by her reasons for staying away from dinner, Giles’ grip tightened. The average chit would have landed him in the muck without a backward glance. It just went to prove how far above the average London miss Lilly was. “Perhaps you could attribute the massages to Mrs. Osprey.”

  “But Papa would try to take Mrs. Osprey with us when we leave. And if she will not come, as I’m sure she won’t, he would try to find some other person to fill that role. How could I let a stranger touch me as you do?”

  She was right. That could be a problem, and not just for her. Discussing Lilly leaving Cottingstone, and him, unnerved Giles to an alarming degree. She sounded so stricken that Giles pulled her into his arms and pressed light kisses over her face and lips until she giggled. But his panic never left.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “GOOD MORNING, PAPA.”

  Those three little words cut through the clatter of silver on fine porcelain like a rampaging bull in a china shop. It also preceded the breaking of said fine china, as two sets of hands ceased to function in the manner society dictated. At least it was not an absolute favorite set.

  Giles was astonished to be surprised. That Lilly was up and moving around was certainly not news to him. But it had been a gradual recovery here at Cottingstone. He should have understood the very great shock Lilly would present to others.

  Lord Winter sat in stunned silence while Lilly glided the remaining distance into the room to stand beside his chair. Only Giles and Carrington remembered to stand; their chairs sounded harsh in the quiet room. Lilly leaned in to kiss her father’s cheek, and then she pulled back to look into his rapt face.

  She quirked an eyebrow, then her gaze flicked to Giles in hesitant greeting. They had talked last night about how they would discuss her recovery, but had not achieved an understanding that would not compromise her reputation or sound completely absurd.

  Giles wanted to kiss her good morning, too. That was unnerving. His weight shifted to step forward to greet her, but that moment gave Lord Winter a chance to blink and to breathe. Once he had done so, he achieved movement. Winter reached out a hand to his daughter’s pale face and lightly rested it upon her skin.

  Giles noticed the slight shake of his hand as Lord Winter regained his sense and balance in his mind. What the devil did he think he was doing? Giles couldn’t kiss her good morning. He was not supposed to compromise her. They had agreed to that at least.

  “Daughter!” Winter breathed.

  Lilly rubbed her cheek into his touch like a cat starving for affection. That simple gesture was enough to get the baron to his feet, and he crushed Lilly to him as a shout of laughter escaped him.

  Lord Winter’s laugh sounded rusty and a startled gasp drew his eyes to Barrette’s reaction. The man looked decidedly pale, as if he had seen a ghost. Barrette gulped, and warning bells rang in Giles’ brain. What reason did Barrette have for looking so discomposed?

  When he turned back to Lilly, she was wiping tears from her father’s cheeks. “I didn’t know it rained indoors at this time of year, Papa,” Lilly laughed. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”

  “Not nearly as pleasant as seeing you looking so well. What has happened?”

  “I told you when I was younger that Cottingstone was magical, didn’t I?” Lilly replied, still smiling brightly at him. “It still is.”

  “Good morning, Miss Winter,” Giles greeted her formally, as if they were barely acquainted.

  “Good morning, Lord Daventry,” Lilly replied with excruciating politeness, but their gazes held.

  Trapped by her remarkable eyes, silence lengthened between them. He was remembering Lilly stretched out in his bed last night. Warm and soft—a perfect bed partner. Was she thinking of those hours, too? He did not know what to do or say next, and when Dithers entered the room to set a place for Lilly beside her father, he was relieved for the distraction.

  Lilly murmured her thanks to the butler, and Lord Winter relinquished her hands only long enough for her to seat herself comfortably before he reclaimed them.

  “Magical, indeed.” Lord Winter glanced between them, strumming his thumb across the back of Lilly’s hand. Giles hoped Lord Winter wasn’t wondering how well acquainted they’d become. He didn’t have a good answer prepared.

  While Dithers attended to the broken china, Giles busied himself with pouring Lilly’s tea, adding milk and sugar, as well as acquiring a plate of food for her. He supposed he should not have heaped it as high as he did, but he got carried away remembering Lilly in his bed last night and forgot to stop.

  When Giles sat down again and glanced her way, Lilly tapped her plate edge to let him know she wasn’t amused by the amount of food. He buried his smile behind a mouthful of egg and let the conversation waft over him.

  It was a good thing Giles had managed to return Lilly to her room last night undetected. Her return to her cold bedchamber occurred on the cusp of sunrise coloring the sky a deep purple. He had entertained a woman in his bed last night and had not made love to, nor caressed, her to any great degree. That was unheard of for him.

  When their talk had begun to spin in circles, Giles had silenced her with a lengthy kiss and tucked her beneath the blankets with him, spooned her back into his front.

  It was as if they had lain together for years.

  He had drifted to sleep in a cloud of light perfume and long, white-blonde hair. Lilly had fallen asleep quickly and had not stirred until nearing daybreak.

  To his amusement, she had not wanted to leave his bed this morning. In the end, Giles had lifted the grumbling woman and carried her to his door. She hinted he was developing a mean streak. He thought, perhaps, it was the tattered remnants of a conscience.

  “Shall we take a stroll, daughter?” Lord Winter enquired. “There is much we should speak of.”

  “Of course. The gardens are lovely.”

  Cut off from Lilly, Giles tried to contain his anxiety. When father and daughter departed the room, Giles had to content himself to watch from a distance as they became reacquainted.

  Carrington appeared at his shoulder. “Are you certain she will hold her tongue?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know, that Barrette fellow gives me an odd feeling. I couldn’t swear under oath, but I don’t think he likes your Lilly. Do you mind if I keep an eye on him?”

  Since Giles only wanted to know what Lord Winter planned to do with Lilly now, he kept his eyes on the pair outside. “I’d appreciate that.”

  Carrington clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Try not to show you’re so interested in the girl. You are usually more discreet than this.”

  “Everything with Lilly is different.”

  “I can see that plainly. If you’re not careful, Lord Winter will see it too.” Carrington exited the room.

  Lord Winter expressed his delight over the miracle of Lilly’s recovery in a physical way, stopping often to stare at her, reaching
out to touch her cheek, and even once walking with his arm around her shoulders while Atticus trotted alongside.

  Giles wanted to do that and his chest ached at the lost opportunity. They looked comfortable, but Lord Winter kept Lilly out of doors too long for his liking. With a quiet word to Mrs. Osprey, Giles had Lilly’s wrap brought to him. A presumption on his part, of course, but a wise precaution given the nip in the air.

  “Join us inside for luncheon, Lord Winter. My cook is overjoyed at having so many mouths to feed,” Giles asked, settling the wrap about Lilly’s shoulders and giving her shoulder a brief squeeze.

  “Of course. Forgive me, Daventry. When one day you have the opportunity to walk around with your daughter on your arm, you will understand my possessiveness.”

  Giles coughed and Lilly looked away from him quickly. They gained the terrace and strolled toward the dining room doors.

  “Lilly and I were just discussing a return to London. Since the season isn’t completely over, I proposed that we return to see if any young gentleman catches her eye. She does not seem convinced of her appeal, but I think she will do very well in Town. Don’t you?”

  Giles’ hand gripped the door handle tight as he opened it. “That seems a sudden decision. Are you sure you shouldn’t give her more time to adjust to her better health?” He did not enjoy the image of Lilly surrounded by young men vying for her hand. They would swarm after her like bees.

  “No time like the present,” Lord Winter stated brightly.

  Giles ground his teeth.

  “We can return to London and settle down into the old townhouse,” Lord Winter continued. “I shall be very proud to launch Lilly on society.”

  Giles’ jaw dropped. Lord Winter’s plans for Lilly’s future were very different from his plans of yesterday. The man seemed determined to be rid of her as quickly as possible. It irritated Giles unbearably that Lilly didn’t meet his eyes while her father outlined his plans for her life.

  Dump her in the country, or a quick marriage to the first man that offers. The poor woman’s head must be spinning. But she smiled her way through lunch, and allowed herself to become reacquainted with her cousin. Barrette seemed over his shock of the morning, and appeared very keen to be friendly with Lilly.

  Giles did not like that at all.

  Carrington exchanged a long look with him and his frowns seemed to coincide with Giles’ worried thoughts.

  While Barrette played at the pianoforte for their entertainment, Giles watched Lilly and Lord Winter from the sidelines. Barrette kept up his smiles for Lilly and the baron eyed the pair with something like speculation in his gaze. Giles decided it had better not be happy speculation.

  While Barrette’s face lit with animation as he played a vigorous tune, and Lord Winter beat out the tune on the chair’s armrest, Lilly’s reaction was subdued. If he had to guess, and Giles was getting very good at reading Lilly, she was tired. But of course, she wasn’t going to speak of it in company and be thought weak.

  Giles had Dithers announce dinner an hour earlier than usual. Lilly shot him a grateful look. In honor of the guests, the servants had exceeded his instructions on the dishes. That unfortunately meant a longer attendance at the table. By the end of the meal, Lilly was sagging. Giles wanted to say something, to offer Lilly a chance to escape, but how could he?

  Lord Winter kept a vise-like grip on her arm as they left the table, and possibly did not comprehend that she still tired easily. It had been a very long day for her. Usually she reclined on the chaise in both the morning and the afternoon. Today she had been on her feet for most of it.

  As Giles followed her into the drawing room, he concluded that it was damned inconvenient to be so attuned to another’s suffering and not be able to do anything about it.

  ~ * ~

  Pain began to slide behind Lilly’s smile, and she dug her fingertips into the chair padding beside her. Lord, she was tired. If not for Papa and his guest, she would have pleaded fatigue long ago.

  But, she was a Winter, and a Winter did not show weakness in the presence of the enemy. Oh, yes, she remembered Barrette’s mean ways now. All too well. He was a favorite with Mama. At ten, Barty had convinced Mama into giving him her puppy. Brackus had been a sweet-natured hunting dog before Barty had gotten his hands on him. The child Brackus later mauled had lost a hand.

  Lilly eyed Barty critically. He looked like a frivolous sort of fellow without too much going on in his head. Handsome and dressed in fine satin. Lilly had not recognized him at first. It was not until later, at luncheon, when one of the words he uttered reverberated strangely.

  As Lilly watched him playing the piano, she had made the connection to her past. She was horrified that Barty was keeping company with her father. That was not a good thing. Not a good thing at all. Mama had forbidden her to mention what she referred to as “groundless accusations” against Papa’s heir, and she’d held her tongue many times. After the accident, she had not had the opportunity to tell, even without mama’s prohibition.

  She wished she could talk to Giles. Lilly had no idea how much she’d depended on hearing his thoughts until she had lost the ability to speak to him. All the plans Papa had mentioned at dinner made her head hurt. It was either that or the noisy piano playing. Music had never interested her.

  Mama had adored Barty for his skill at the instrument, and she had displayed him to her guests whenever he was in residence. Lilly, always banished to the furthest reaches of the house when they had guests, didn’t mind being away from Barty. But that meant he was closer to Papa.

  Lilly had never coveted the responsibility of the estate, but Barty was strange about it all. Her years of illness away from Dumas had left her ambivalent about her childhood home. She wondered if Barty would believe her this time.

  Mama had taken Barty under her wing, teaching him about Dumas at around the time Lilly lost her puppy to him. Perhaps Mama hoped to ingratiate herself to the next baron, since she might be dependant on him for life’s little luxuries.

  Papa’s talk of her marrying must also be in preparation for that day, too. If she was well, she had better have a husband to protect her from Barty, she thought grimly. Barty resented her existence, although today she found him strangely pleasant. Perhaps he had changed his opinion of her. Perhaps snakes had learned to blunt their fangs, too. He would bear watching. There was always the possibility of another ambush.

  A low growl reverberated through the room as Atticus stalked toward them with a menacing posture. Lilly was surprised. The dog had been so mild in his manner until now.

  “Atticus.” Giles spoke sharply to him, but the dog did not heed him.

  Atticus growled at Papa and Barty, and that was not to be allowed. “Atticus, come.” Lilly spoke low like her father had taught, and the dog came to her outstretched hand.

  She leaned forward and whispered a command directly into the dog’s ear. He quivered, but complied, pressing against her leg and turning slightly so he faced outward toward the men.

  Embarrassed that the dog showed such a marked preference for a woman instead of his master, she chewed her lip. She did not mean to do it, but the wolfhound was a powerful dog. She knew firsthand that his teeth were very sharp. Too sharp to make mistakes with.

  ~ * ~

  Giles was blessed with a vast experience at prowling manor houses undetected. It just did not seem to work in his own home. When Lilly had finally retired just ahead of her father and Barrette, he had been relieved. A few hours later, he walked the hall, only to stumble into Barrette again.

  “Daventry? I knew you couldn’t possibly keep country hours as Lord Winter does. I was just on my way to find a spot of something to drink. Care to join me?”

  Given the way he phrased it, Giles had little choice. Together they descended to his study and acquired a glass of port. They spoke little, but Giles did notice the man’s restlessness.

  “I have the devil of a time sleeping in a new setting. I always require a little extr
a something to help me nod off. What about you?”

  Giles laughed. “Oh, I can usually sleep anywhere, and frequently do.”

  “I imagine your maids are happy to share your bed space.”

  Giles set his drink aside. “Touch one of the women under my roof and we shall have a less-than-pleasant conversation. Is that understood?”

  Barrette appeared surprised. Apparently, he thought he knew Giles’ reputation. But Giles would never touch a woman whose very livelihood rested within his power.

  He also realized that his reaction was just a touch too insistent. He had included Lilly in his warning without meaning to.

  “Of course, of course. Simply testing the waters.”

  “Drink as much as you wish. I’m for bed. Goodnight.”

  As Giles ascended the staircase, warnings danced upon his skin. Barrette watched his ascent and no doubt wondered just how he spent his time in the country. Society knew of his insatiable appetite for pleasure. Knowing that Lilly had recovered in his care would have piqued his interest too.

  Lord help them if anyone figured out the connection.

  Barrette followed him up the stairs at a distance, watching as Giles strode past Lilly’s doorway and slipped into his bedchamber. Just to be sure there were no misunderstandings, Giles allowed the lock to turn loudly for good measure.

  Lilly was not in his bed, and he slumped back against the door in disappointment. She was under his skin in a most uncomfortable way, and he was not sure he wanted to remove her. Surely this restless desire was just lust.

  Beyond his door, he heard a low growl as Atticus marked a trespasser near his territory—territory that included Lilly’s bedchamber. Barrette must be walking past, but he was certainly at the wrong end of the hall if he were near Lilly’s bedchamber door.

  Giles considered trying again now, but after failing to detect Barrette’s movements, he discarded the notion. There was no guarantee Atticus would allow him to enter Lilly’s room without raising a great deal of noise either, given the dog’s prickly mood tonight.