by Anna Bradley
Without thinking, he raised his empty glass to his lips again, but lowered it when he noticed Delia and Alec looking at him expectantly. Delia had asked him a question, hadn’t she? What the devil was it? Oh, yes—wasn’t he happy for Lily?
He pasted a grim smile on his face. “Delighted.”
Delia raised an eyebrow. “My goodness. That’s delighted? You look as if a horse stepped on your foot.”
“It’s just that I can’t imagine why Lily looks so amused,” Robyn said. “Atherton’s never said an entertaining word in his life. He’s as dull as a page of Latin declensions. Isn’t he, Alec?”
Alec shrugged. “He’s a steady sort. I don’t know if that means he’s dull. Steadiness could be just what Lily needs.”
Robyn glared at his brother. Traitor.
Delia mulled this over. “Perhaps,” she said after a brief hesitation.
Robyn studied her. She didn’t sound convinced. Could it be Delia thought Atherton wasn’t right for Lily? How interesting.
He hadn’t time to question her, however, for the dance concluded and Atherton led Lily back to Delia’s side.
“My goodness, it’s warm, isn’t it?” Lily asked. Her cheeks were stained a fetching shade of pink and she was breathless from her exertions in the dance.
For some reason Robyn didn’t care to probe into, her breathlessness annoyed him. “Not at all. Perhaps you’ve overexerted yourself with excessive dancing, Miss Somerset?”
Lily gave him a cool look. “One dance is hardly excessive, Mr. Sutherland.”
Robyn’s jaw went so tight, a breath of air could have shattered it. “That depends on the dance.”
Atherton cleared his throat. “May I fetch you some refreshment?” he asked, bowing to Lily.
Yes, do, Atherton. Take yourself off.
Before Lily could answer, Delia intervened. “It’s lovely to see such color in your cheeks, Lily, but I’m afraid you look a little too flushed. Gentlemen, if you would excuse us?”
“Thank you for the dance, Miss Somerset.” Atherton bowed again. “I hope you will honor me again this evening?”
“Of course,” Lily murmured with a smile as she and Delia went off in search of the ladies’ retiring room.
Silence descended as soon as Alec, Robyn, and Lord Atherton were left alone.
“How are you, Atherton?” Alec asked at last. “I hope your mother is well?”
“Yes, indeed. Very well, thank you, Carlisle. Your own mother is well?”
“Yes, very well, I thank you.”
Another silence as they all stared blankly at each other.
“Miss Somerset is a charming young lady,” Lord Atherton offered at last.
Alec snatched at it. “Yes—”
Before he could get a second word out, however, Robyn interrupted him. “She was charming last week as well, Atherton. She’s been charming since she arrived in London, weeks ago. Did you not happen to meet her during that time?”
Atherton turned a cold, speculative eye upon Robyn. “No, indeed. I have not had the pleasure of her acquaintance before this evening.”
Lying bastard.
“No? How odd that you didn’t meet her at Almack’s last Wednesday, for I’m sure I saw you there. You danced with our sister Charlotte, I believe?”
Atherton shrugged. “I believe I did, yes—dance with Miss Sutherland, I mean. I was not introduced to Miss Somerset on that occasion, however.”
Another lie.
“Curious, isn’t it, that you never met before?”
Robyn noticed a faint flush rise above Atherton’s collar, but his voice remained cool. “I confess I don’t see what’s so curious about it, Sutherland. London is a large city. I’d venture to say I haven’t made the acquaintance of every young lady out this season.”
“Certainly not those young ladies who don’t matter anyway,” Robyn said, his own voice deceptively casual.
Atherton’s flush deepened. “What does that mean, sir?”
Robyn shrugged. “I simply find it interesting you never met Miss Somerset until Lady Chase publicly acknowledged her.”
Atherton bared his teeth in a cold smile. “It sounds as though you accuse me of something, Sutherland, but I’m at a loss to determine what.”
“We all have our vices, don’t we?” Robyn asked.
“You certainly do,” Atherton shot back.
“Indeed I do, and I’m man enough to own up to them. What could yours be, Atherton, that you’ve gone to such lengths to hide them?”
Atherton took a threatening step toward Robyn. “Now see here—”
Alec laid a hand on Atherton’s arm. “What does it matter when Lily and Lord Atherton met?”
Robyn turned to find Alec looking at him as though he’d lost his wits. “I’ll tell you why it matters—”
“I’m sure she’s happy to have made your acquaintance at last,” Alec said to Atherton, throwing a quelling look in Robyn’s direction.
Atherton bowed to Alec. “You’re too kind, Carlisle.”
Atherton turned to Robyn then, his look so icy it could freeze fire. “I assure you she can’t be as gratified to make my acquaintance as I am to make hers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe my mother is looking for me.”
Alec nodded. “Of course.”
Atherton gave Robyn a smug smile. “Oh, and, Sutherland? Now that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Miss Somerset, you can be quite sure I won’t overlook her again.”
He held Robyn’s eyes for a beat longer than necessary before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Robyn stared after him for a moment, then turned to face his brother. “I never thought I’d agree with Atherton, but you are too kind, Alec.”
“Is that so?” Alec said, in the same tone he’d used when he’d caught ten-year-old Robyn hiding rotten eggs in his tutor’s bedchamber. “Just what do you have against Atherton?”
Robyn drained his third glass of wine. “The man’s an iceberg, Alec. The water appears still and blue on the surface, but the next thing you know, your boat has been shattered to pieces and you’ve drowned.”
Alec laughed. “Such a dramatic analogy. But I think you credit Atherton with far more complexity of character than he has. Besides, I’ve never heard a word said against him.”
The floor shifted a little under Robyn’s feet. “No. No one has. But then no one ever breathed a word against our father, either.”
He hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t even realize he thought it until the words were out of his mouth, but it was true. There was something off about Atherton—something disturbing lurking under that smooth surface.
Robyn half expected his brother to be angry, but Alec only considered him for a moment, then said, “If you think so, we’ll keep a close eye on him.”
Robyn let go of the breath he’d been holding. “Good.”
“But take care you don’t have some other, more complicated reason to chase away Lily’s suitors, Robyn.”
Robyn opened his mouth to deny he had any reason whatsoever, but then closed it again. There wasn’t any point trying to hide things from Alec—never had been, either. “It’s damned inconvenient sometimes, having you as a brother.”
Alec smirked. “Yes, I imagine it is.”
“I’m off to pursue more worldly pleasures—promised Archie I’d meet him later, and it will please Lady Chase if I go. Took an instant dislike to me, she did. I can’t imagine why.”
“I can,” Alec called after him as Robyn marched across the ballroom to pay his respects to his hostess.
He’d bid Lady Chase a good evening, and then as far as he was concerned, she could go to the devil, and Atherton along with her.
He hated routs, or fetes, or whatever this evening’s entertainment was called, almost as much as he hated musica
l evenings. Why, he could be up to his knees in whiskey by now, or bedding that actress—what was her name? The one in the trousers. Louise Bannister. He could be up to his neck, or some other more sensitive part of his anatomy, in Louise Bannister.
Lily had hardly looked his way once this evening. She didn’t need his escort now, or anyone’s, come to that. Archie would be devastated to hear it, enamored as he was with her. He was under Lily’s spell. Fascinated by her. Poor old Archie was so besotted, he’d actually wanted to escort her to every dull entertainment of the season.
Robyn made a disgusted sound in his throat. Thank God he hadn’t got his own foot caught in that trap.
It was past time to leave her to her well-laid plans and her suitors and the lavish attention of her aristocratic grandmother, and go back to his own pursuits. Like securing a mistress, for a start. He hadn’t been half out of his clothes with desire for Louise Bannister, but she’d do in a pinch.
And it bloody pinched, all right. He’d been in a heightened state of arousal for weeks. Lily’s fault, as well.
The desire he felt for her wouldn’t last much longer, surely. The novelty of the prim seductress was bound to wear off soon, and who better to help it on its way than a practiced siren like Louise Bannister?
He drew to a halt before Lady Chase, fixed a bland smile on his face, and swept into an exaggerated bow. “My lady, I thank you for a pleasant evening. I have a prior engagement, and must bid you good night.”
There, that should satisfy the old bird.
The old bird apparently was not satisfied, however, for she stopped him before he could make his escape.
“It looked to me as though you stood in a corner all night, drinking to excess and glowering at my granddaughter. Pleasant, was it?”
Robyn’s mouth fell open. She’d seen all that from across the room? The old lady had better eyesight than he would have thought. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t say glowering, exactly.”
“Do you have designs on my granddaughter, Mr. Sutherland?”
Robyn had to make an effort to keep his mouth from dropping open again. “Designs?”
“Yes, designs, young man. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. I don’t care for the way you look at my granddaughter, sir, and I won’t have you sniffing under her skirts for your next conquest.”
Good Lord. Robyn wasn’t sure whether to laugh or blush. “Sniffing under her skirts? What a vulgar thing to say, Lady Chase.”
“It’s a vulgar thing to do, as well. Lily is no longer a friendless orphan, Mr. Sutherland, so don’t imagine you can get away with your roguish antics with her.”
Robyn stared at her. So he was being warned away from Lily now, was he?
All at once he found himself coldly furious. He could have engaged in his roguish antics with Lily days ago, but he’d resisted. And when had Lily ever been as pathetic as her grandmother made her sound? “Lily has never been friendless, my lady. You don’t give her enough credit. Lovely as she is, she makes friends wherever she goes.”
Lady Chase’s eyebrows shot up at this. “Well, I—”
Robyn wasn’t finished. “The Sutherlands have been her friends these last months—her family, too, when her own family refused to acknowledge her.”
Lady Chase flushed a dull red at that reminder. “I suppose you think that gives you some claim on her, don’t you, young man? I don’t approve of you, Mr. Sutherland, and I won’t hesitate to make my sentiments known to my granddaughter.”
“Indeed?” Robyn’s voice was soft. “I imagine you had a similar conversation with your daughter, right before she ran off with Henry Somerset. Take care, Lady Chase. You wouldn’t want history to repeat itself.”
Now it was Lady Chase’s turn to go openmouthed, but Robyn didn’t wait to hear what she’d say. He gave her another stiff bow, turned on his heel, and strode to the door.
He’d had quite enough of this fete, or rout, or whatever the bloody hell it was. He’d had enough of watered-down wine. He’d had enough of Lord Atherton’s smooth lies and Lady Chase’s warnings.
And he’d had enough of Lily, with her absurdly soft skin and huge blue eyes. He’d had enough of her innocent kisses and her fresh meadow scent, if it was really even her scent at all. Now he thought about it, that scent probably did come out of a bottle. It was too innocent to be real.
He’d had enough of—
Lily. She came toward him from the dim hallway. Alone.
What unfortunate timing. For her.
Robyn’s eyes narrowed and every muscle in his body pulled tight with anger, frustration, and thwarted desire.
He stopped in front of her, so close he heard her faint gasp. “My, such uncharacteristic carelessness, Lily. Have you forgotten what happened the last time you went to the ladies’ retiring room alone? What have you done with Delia?”
She seemed to sense his dangerous mood, for she tried to slip past him. “She’s resting. I’m on my way to fetch Alec to take her home.”
He blocked her way, then moved forward to back her closer to the wall. “Ah. Well, you’d best hurry. I believe you promised to dance with Atherton again. I’m sure he’s as patient as a saint, but you don’t want to keep him waiting.”
A flush rose on her cheeks. “No. I don’t. Let me pass, if you please.”
Robyn dragged a finger down her pink cheek, testing the heat there. “By all means, don’t let me keep you, madam.”
The blue eyes opened wide. “Madam?”
Savage triumph swept through him as her flush deepened and spread down her neck. He trailed his finger in its wake until he rested the tip at the base of her throat. “Oh, yes. I think it’s better if we keep it formal from now on. I know Lady Chase will prefer it.”
Lily’s pulse leapt wildly against his fingertip. “L-Lady Chase? I don’t know what you mean.”
Robyn dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Why don’t you ask her? I’m sure she’ll be pleased to tell you all about my wicked designs on you.”
So deliciously wicked . . . and so impossible.
He needed to get out of there—he needed to find Pelkey, or Archie, or any bloody thing to take his mind off Lily.
He jerked his finger away from her throat and backed up so she could pass.
Lily hesitated, then edged past him, her shoulder brushing against his chest. “I will ask her.”
Close . . . close enough that he could wrap an arm around her waist, ease her back against the wall and hold her there with his body, sink his face into her neck, and—
Robyn forced his arms to his sides. “You do that. I wish you a good night.”
“You’re leaving already? But . . . it’s so early.”
He gave her a low, mocking bow. “Early in the evening perhaps, but long, long overdue otherwise.”
* * *
Lily followed Robyn down the hallway, heart tight in her chest, and watched as he walked out the front door of the town house and disappeared into the night.
Someone touched her elbow. “Miss Somerset?”
She turned to find Lord Atherton standing next to her. He bowed. “I believe you promised me this dance?”
Lily watched her hand reach forward, as if it were not a part of her body, to grasp Lord Atherton’s arm.
“Yes, my lord,” she murmured as he led her away. “I believe I did.”
Chapter Seventeen
The entrance hall looked like a bloody conservatory. Lilies, of course. Trust Atherton to sacrifice the romantic to the literal. The man lacked imagination.
Robyn stomped down the last few steps into the foyer and glanced around. Rylands had disappeared on some errand, and if he could judge by the scrape of silverware against porcelain, the rest of the family was in the breakfast parlor. He was alone. Just him and the enormous display of lilies sitting on a hall table.
Yesterd
ay’s lilies had disappeared. Most likely Lily had taken them to her room. She’d probably placed them next to her bed so they were the last thing she saw before she fell asleep and the first when she awoke each morning.
Touching, that. Nearly brought a tear to his eye. Or maybe lilies just made his eyes water.
He hoped they made Lily’s eyes water, too. In fact, he hoped she awoke every morning with a heavy head and burning eyes. Why should he be the only one? Never mind if his ailments were the result of whiskey, and entirely self-induced.
Robyn glanced around once more then sauntered over to the flowers, taking care to tread quietly. Ah. Lily must not have seen this arrangement yet, for the card was still here. He plucked it from the blooms.
To Lily. Affectionately, Francis.
Robyn snorted. Affectionately? Hardly a declaration of passionate love, was it? Either Atherton was no poet, or he’d mistaken Lily for his sister. Or his mother. The thought filled Robyn with a petulant sort of satisfaction.
Still. Francis, and Lily? They already called each other by their given names. A few weeks’ worth of flowers and a few rides around Rotten Row was all it took to win her affections, it seemed. He’d have expected more from Lily.
What other intimacies did she permit?
Robyn stuffed the card back into the flower arrangement. What did it matter if Atherton kissed her hand, or her cheek, or her lips? Damn it, he didn’t want to know—didn’t want to think about it.
Yet here he was, thinking about it anyway. Good God, it had only been two weeks.
Two weeks. Fourteen days. Fourteen days in which he’d spoken hardly a single word to her.
He hadn’t seen much of her, as he’d made it a point to be absent from the town house as often as possible. He went out every evening with Pelkey and Archie and spent his nights at Archie’s bachelor’s chambers in St. James’s Place.
He wasn’t sure why he was here now, really, except Archie insisted he make an appearance in Mayfair before his mother hired runners to drag the Thames in search of him.
Archie also had the nerve to hint Robyn should have a bath. The bastard.
He hadn’t slept at all, but he’d bathed, and being a dutiful son, he’d report for breakfast this morning. Then he’d disappear for another seven days. At least.