He wasn’t gentle this time, and she was swept along, and by the time they separated, they were both breathing hard and she was weak behind the knees. “We can’t do this, Wellstone,” he said, his mouth inches from hers.
“No. Positively not,” she whispered.
“Go. Go have tea, and give my regrets to Eugenia and Miss Kirk.” He didn’t release her, but even if he had, she wouldn’t have moved.
“I’d rather stay here.”
“Impossible.” He pressed a kiss to her ear.
“It’s the medallion,” she said, arching her throat to give him the access he wanted. His lips slid along her shoulder. “We have no power to resist.”
He rested his forehead on hers but managed to reach behind her and pull the door open enough that they had no choice but to move. “Damned magic.”
“At the moment, I find it rather thrilling.”
Mountjoy gave a low laugh. “It is at that. Go or I won’t answer for the consequences.”
Chapter Eight
TWO DAYS LATER, LILY SAT WITH GINNY AT THE FAR side of the Kirks’ salon, listening to Miss Caroline Kirk play the piano. Lily wore a gown of pale pink satin while Ginny wore a frock that was at least not quite black. One took small steps. There was no point in asking more of Ginny than she was yet prepared to give. Gray, even a very dark gray, was a triumph.
Jane Kirk sat beside her sister, turning pages. The middle of the Kirk sisters, Miss Caroline, had only yesterday returned from a visit to relatives in the north of England. This gathering was a welcome-home for her. Most of the High Tearing gentry were here on her behalf. Lord Nigel sat a few rows nearer the front while Mountjoy sat closer to the door, beside Mr. Kirk, who would one day be his father in law. All in all, Lily thought the connection would be a good one for both families. At the moment, Jane was rather outmatched by Mountjoy, but that would change.
Miss Caroline was a better than excellent musician, and Lily was glad that the room was comparatively quiet while she played. She’d chosen a difficult piece by Scarlatti, and such was her talent that Lily had some time ago stopped worrying about whether she would make a mistake and was simply enjoying the music.
The salon door opened to admit a late arrival, but the butler, wisely, did not announce him. Nevertheless, Lily and several other guests turned for a better look at the latecomer. From the whispers, she gathered he was someone important. He looked to be in his late twenties, quite handsome and distinguished, but with a decidedly cold air about him. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t think who.
The new arrival elected to stand near the door, well within her view as it happened. He surveyed the room as if he were searching for someone. Whoever he was, she approved of his taste in clothes. Heartily. Mountjoy could learn a thing or two from this stranger’s example.
Whoever he was, though he took no sartorial risks, his clothes fit him to perfection. Even from where she sat, she could tell the fabrics were first-rate. The very best grade of wool and silk, the finest lawn for his shirt. His cravat was subdued yet folded and knotted to perfection. His boots gleamed and though there were no tassels, she felt the lack suited him. If his attire was a trifle severe, he’d relieved the effect by wearing an embroidered fob of an overly cheerful yellow. An intriguing whimsy.
When Caroline had done playing and the applause had not yet died down, Lily leaned to Ginny and whispered, “Don’t be obvious”—she held Ginny’s forearm to prevent her from turning around— “but do you know who that is? The gentleman who’s just come in.”
Under cover of adjusting her gown, Ginny glanced across the room. “Who?”
“With the yellow fob.”
“I don’t see anyone with a yellow fob.”
“There. By the door. I’ve the strangest feeling I’ve met him before, but I can’t think where.”
Ginny frowned. “What’s he doing here?”
“You do know who he is.”
Ginny straightened. “Yes.” Her lips thinned. “Lord Fenris.”
Lily’s heart frosted over. “Fenris, you say.”
“Yes. He’s Camber’s heir.”
“The Duke of Camber?”
Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed. “I don’t know how anyone stands him.”
“Camber?” Lily put her fingers over her mouth, then immediately lowered both her hands so that Ginny would not see her trembling.
“No, Lily. Fenris.” Ginny looked over her shoulder and frowned in the man’s direction. “Though I hear Camber is no better.”
“Does Lord Fenris know one of the Kirks, do you suppose?”
Ginny turned her back on the man. “Mr. Kirk wouldn’t keep a connection like that quiet. He’d have told Jane to marry Fenris instead of Mountjoy. Better if your son in law is to be the ten thousandth duke than merely the fourth.”
“Perhaps he met Caroline while she was away, and she invited him?”
Ginny sniffed. “Poor Caroline Kirk if that’s the case.”
Feeling she needed to proceed carefully, she said, “Miss Caroline Kirk is an attractive girl. He might be here on her account, don’t you think?”
“Fenris?” Ginny made a face. “Marry a Kirk? A mere Miss? He’d never stoop so low.”
“I take it you don’t like the man.” Lily didn’t know whether to feel she’d been vindicated or not.
“No,” she said. She adjusted her shawl. “I’m sorry, I don’t. Don’t let his looks fool you, Lily.” Ginny lowered her voice. “He’s handsome enough, I’ll grant you that, but Lord Fenris is a judgmental bore.”
Lily glanced in Fenris’s direction. “I wasn’t aware you knew him well enough to have any opinion at all.”
“I do,” Ginny said with more passion than Lily had seen from her since she’d arrived. “You can’t go falling in love with him. You can’t.” She paused and then lowered her voice again. “I don’t care how perfect his clothes or how handsome you think he is.”
“In love?”
“Don’t admit to a fault around that man unless you want a lecture on the evils of imperfect comportment. He once told Miss Abigail Archer she ought to think more and laugh less, and Abigail Archer is an absolutely delightful young lady.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lily clasped her hands on her lap.
“What does it matter if she’s prone to laugh too often? It’s charming, if you ask me.” She sniffed. “I wonder what he’s doing here?”
“If he’s no prior acquaintance with any of the Kirks, I fear there is only one possible reason for his presence here.”
“Oh?” Ginny said.
Lily nodded soberly. Her heart remained frozen solid. “I expect he’s here on account of me.”
“But you didn’t even know who he was.” Ginny started to say something more, but a footman walked by with a tray, and she held back her comment.
People were leaving their seats and heading for the back of the room where servants were setting out food. Lily watched a footman enter with a salver of strawberries, but her attention returned to Fenris. Now that she could study him, there could be no doubt he was searching for someone.
“I am very much afraid Lord Fenris and his father mean to wrest control of my fortune from me.”
“I don’t understand,” Ginny said. “Why would they want to do that?”
Fenris continued scanning the room, and Lily’s heart thumped when she realized he was now looking over the area where she and Ginny sat. He did look at them, and she did not think she was mistaken that his attention paused, but whether he was looking at her, whom he had never in his life met, or at Ginny, whom he did know, was impossible to say.
He headed across the salon, but the flow of guests to the food impeded his progress. He hadn’t got far when Mrs. Kirk intercepted him. He took her hand and bowed over it, and the cadences of their exchange, if not the specific words, floated over the sound of conversation. His manners were impeccable, she had to grant him that. Fenris broke free of Mrs. Kirk, and this time she c
ould not doubt that he was headed toward her and Ginny.
Lily jumped up, grabbed Ginny’s hand, and pulled her along to the back of the room, hoping to blend in with the crowd.
“Lily,” Ginny said. “What on earth?”
From the corner of her eye, Lily saw Fenris adjust course. She zigged through the crowd and when she peeked again, Fenris had done the same. “What if he knows who I am? What if someone described me to him?”
“Good heavens. You’re afraid of him.” Ginny pulled on Lily’s hand and they stopped. “Honestly afraid. If you’re worried about Lord Fenris’s intentions toward you, we ought to tell my brother. He will help you. He will.”
“Lord Fenris and his father are my concern. Not his. Or yours.”
“Lily.” Ginny pressed her hand. “Lily, you are not alone. If Lord Fenris has made himself odious to you, Mountjoy will intervene on your behalf.”
“Your brother has more important matters to deal with.”
“He’s just there.” She glanced in Mountjoy’s direction. “Tell him, Lily. He won’t leave you to that odious man’s mercy. You’ll see.”
Her heart stayed cold as ice. “If only he could help.”
“But he will. I know he will. Why wouldn’t he?”
“Because Lord Fenris is my cousin. One of my few relations, actually.”
Ginny’s mouth opened and for a moment no sound came out. “Fenris? Is your cousin?” She groped behind her for a chair, found one, and sat down. “But how?”
She stayed close to Ginny, keeping her voice low. “The previous Duke of Camber was my mother’s father.”
Her eyes widened. “Your grandfather?”
“The present duke is my uncle. And that, I fear, makes Lord Fenris my cousin.”
Ginny put a hand to her heart, her hand pale against the gray of her gown. “Lord Fenris? Your cousin?”
“My aunt Lily, I’ve told you about her—”
“She left you Syton House.”
“To me, instead of Camber.” The subject of her relation to the Duke of Camber was painful. She had years ago stopped thinking they would ever meet under any circumstances but unpleasant ones. “Aunt Lily was a Talbot before she married.” Talbot being the Duke of Camber’s family name.
Ginny, no fool she, tilted her head. “Ah.”
Yes, Ginny understood. “Precisely.”
“You poor thing, to be related to such a man.”
Lily remained on her feet. They were only partially hidden by the guests, but for the moment at least, Fenris seemed to have lost sight of them, for he was now looking in the opposite direction from where they were. Because, she realized, Ginny was sitting down. She looked down at her friend. Wasn’t that interesting? Was it possible her cousin was following Ginny and not her?
“Ginny, my dear. How is it you know Lord Fenris?”
Ginny’s mouth thinned. “He was Robert’s friend. Before we married.”
“But not after?”
She looked at Lily and passion flashed in her eyes. “He did his best to stop Robert marrying me. He did not approve of me, you see. My brother, after all, was nothing but a farmer who, in his opinion, didn’t deserve his title. And me? Why, I was only an ignorant country girl with designs on his friend.”
“Much worse than a judgmental bore,” Lily said with a nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me”—Ginny twisted on her chair and looked behind them—“that such a hateful man is your relation?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never met my mother’s family. They’ve never wanted to meet me. Camber and Fenris disapprove of me, too, you see. Because my father had married so far above his station. My father, they believe, did not deserve my mother. Just as Fenris believed you did not deserve Robert.”
“Judgmental bores the lot of those Talbot men,” Ginny said fiercely. “Well, whatever he’s planning, he’s not going to succeed.” She squeezed Lily’s hand again. “Don’t look, but he’s coming this way.”
Lily froze. The idea of meeting her cousin when she was so thoroughly unprepared and with no notion of his immediate intentions unsettled her. If there was to be an unpleasant confrontation, let it not be here, in front of Ginny’s friends. “Fenris?”
“No, Lily.” Ginny touched Lily’s arm. “Mountjoy. Behind you.”
“Eugenia.” Mountjoy’s voice wound around Lily’s senses. “Miss Wellstone.”
She turned and curtseyed to the duke. His coat was the wrong color of blue for his waistcoat. “Your grace.”
Without warning, Ginny shot from her chair and threw an arm around Lily’s shoulder, putting her mouth by Lily’s ear. “Pretend you are about to faint.”
“I’ve never swooned in my life.”
“Didn’t you say you once wanted to be an actress?” Ginny looked over her shoulder again. “Swoon, Lily, or you will meet Fenris now and there will be an awful scene. Do you want that here? In front of everyone?”
Lily believed in action with conviction. Half measures only made things worse. Therefore, she grabbed the back of a chair and went limp with the intention of landing, ever so delicately and safely, on the chair.
“Mountjoy,” Ginny said. “Thank goodness you’re here. Help.”
Lily found herself not on the chair but enfolded by the duke’s arms. There was nothing for it now but to see the thing through.
“Oh, dear!” Ginny spoke too loudly. “She needs fresh air, Mountjoy. Do help her outside.”
Mountjoy, already supporting her, swung Lily into his arms. She willed herself boneless in his embrace. Her head lolled back, and one arm dangled toward the floor.
“Mrs. Kirk,” Lily heard Ginny say as Mountjoy carried her out. “Yes, yes. I know. I don’t know. Thank goodness my brother was here. The crowd, you understand. Stifling. So many people in the room. A little fresh air, I think . . .”
Ginny’s voice faded. By the time Mountjoy had carried her out of the salon, however, Ginny had caught up with them. Lily cracked open one eye and caught a glimpse of Ginny’s gray gown as the duke moved away from the gathering. She opened a door for her brother. In an excess of caution, in case they were followed, God forbid, by the hateful Lord Fenris, Lily remained limp against Mountjoy’s broad chest until they were inside.
Mountjoy said, “Eugenia?”
Lily bestirred herself and, still in Mountjoy’s arms, reached for Ginny’s hand. “Thank you, Ginny. You are a good friend. The very best.”
“As are you, Lily.” Ginny patted her brother’s shoulder. “Look after her, Mountjoy. Do not under any circumstances leave her alone. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Ginny left, pulling the door closed behind her. Mountjoy looked down, and Lily blinked at him.
They were alone. The door was closed, and Lily was far too aware of the impropriety of that. The duke drew in a breath and put her down on a small and infernally maroon sofa. He took a step back. “Have you a vinaigrette?”
She looked around and shuddered. “I am wearing entirely the wrong colors to be in this room. My God, whoever thought maroon was anything but a hue with which to accent?”
“A mystery,” Mountjoy said.
“Indeed, sir.” She left the sofa for the window but stood sideways so she could see Mountjoy. He was so very handsome, and she could not stop thinking that they were alone. Alone.
“If you’re not well, are you certain you should be on your feet?”
She pushed aside the curtains to get a better view of the garden. “You know perfectly well there’s nothing wrong with me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You could have a career on the stage, Miss Wellstone. I was convinced you’d lost your senses.”
She turned her head to glare at him, but his comment was so beautifully double-edged that she couldn’t help but be impressed. And amused. “I would have been ashamed if you had not been. At my father’s home when I was a girl, I mean, not Syton House. I was renowned for my Ophelia. I had her every line memorized before I was ten. I did Lady Macbeth,
too. My father lived in fear of my running away whenever a traveling troupe came into town.”
The curtains, the same unfortunate maroon as the sofa, were giving her a headache. The view, on the other hand, was spectacular. She thought of Ginny, facing Lord Fenris on her own. She was a Wellstone and not ashamed of her family or herself. Let him stare down his aristocratic nose at her and tell the world she was non compos mentis or whatever nefarious scheme he planned to carry out.
“If there’s nothing wrong with you, dare I ask, Miss Wellstone, what your most impressive swoon was meant to achieve?”
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