“I see,” Lilly said, and tried not to smile at that. It wasn’t the most flowery of compliments to be sure, but it rang with sincerity because of that. “I can be very tiresome, my lord.”
“As can I. No doubt we will argue and sometimes disagree on things, but that’s rather the point of being married, isn’t it? To have someone in your life who challenges you, who forces you to be better than you are because the thought of disappointing them is completely abhorrent to you. There are other matters that must be addressed, but due to their delicate nature, we’ll leave that for last. Why don’t you tell me what your expectations are?” he prompted.
The path they’d followed went deeper into the dense growth of trees. The limbs twisted and tangled overhead, forming a sort of tunnel that shielded them from everything else. In that space, surrounded by dense foliage bedecked in flame-colored leaves that had not yet given over to the bare limbs of winter, it was as if they were all alone in a city of people numbering into the hundreds of thousands, if not more.
“They are fairly minimal,” Lilly answered. “To be perfectly truthful, other than the couple I worked for prior to taking the position with your grandmother, I’ve never known a married couple well enough to judge their state of accord. Do not ever strike me. If our relationship sours and you do wish to take lovers, do so discreetly enough that I will not be humiliated by it, and grant me enough independence that I might not feel inclined to rebellion.”
He frowned. “That is a very short list.”
“It is. But to me, those are the only things I would ever deem unforgivable,” she said. “Anything else, I imagine we can work out if we’ve a mind to try.”
“So we can,” he agreed.
“Well, I’ve presented my conditions and my expectations. But we’ve only covered your expectations,” Lilly said. “I would think you would have conditions of your own on our arrangement, Val?”
He cast a sidelong glance in her direction, one that was rather speculative and perhaps a bit wicked. It left her tingling in its wake, as he said, “You said you wouldn’t be a meek society wife. Well, I don’t intend to be a boorish society husband. I also have no intention of being the polite sort who will spare you the duties of the marriage bed. And I hope very much not to be the sort of husband that would make such duties seem onerous. I need an heir, Lilly, and that requires the consummation of our union… likely more than once.”
That was a much more forthright and direct answer than she’d expected on what should have been a terribly delicate matter. It left her feeling flustered but also very curious. “Oh, well… that is to say, I really have no notion how to respond to that.”
He smiled. “No, I don’t suppose you do. But I imagine we have a few days before we stand before whatever parson is unlucky enough to be given the duty of seeing us wed. I think perhaps we should use that time wisely and you may acquaint yourself with some of the lesser intimacies of marriage.”
That sounded quite shocking and also impossibly tempting. “What did you have in mind?”
“Only that you let me kiss you again… every day. Just as I did last night,” he said.
Her heart began to beat faster. “That’s all? Just a kiss?” As if that were such a small and inconsequential thing! It had been one kiss from him that had robbed her of the rejection and set down she’d intended to blast him with on the previous evening. If not for that kiss, she’d still be just a companion and he’d still be hunting for a bride.
“Until you want more than a kiss.” There was a wealth of promise in that statement. He looked at her as if he could see straight through to the heart of her and knew, even in that moment, just as she did, that a kiss would never be enough.
Her breath caught and she felt the heat building inside her. “You are very certain of yourself.”
“I know what I felt when I kissed you, Lilly,” he said, and stepped forward.
Almost against her will, Lillian backed away, but not out of fear of him. She feared herself and the response she had to him much more. He was the embodiment of temptation, of every wicked and half-formed fantasy she’d ever had. When the girls at her school had whispered in the night about kisses and passionate embraces as they poured over the more lurid passages of contraband gothic novels, the man who’d lingered in her mind then had been faceless and unknown. No more. Valentine Somers had conquered those dreams, stamping that faceless memory out and putting himself in place there forever more.
He continued, “And I know what you felt, as well. My belief is a simple one… passion can exist without love, but love cannot exist without passion. If we deny that aspect of our relationship, we deny ourselves the opportunity to have so much more than simply an arrangement.”
She only stopped because her back was against a tree and there was nowhere left to go. Still, he advanced, not stopping until they stood so close that her breasts were crushed against the hard wall of his chest and she could feel his thighs against hers even through the layers of their clothing. “This is quite improper.”
“You don’t like rules,” he reminded her.
“I don’t have a problem with every rule,” she hedged.
Those were the last words that escaped her before his lips descended on hers once more. Where the kiss the night before had been a thing of gentleness, even as it had overwhelmed her with sensation, this was a different thing altogether. It was hard, his lips moving over hers forcefully, demanding entrance which she granted. She was helpless to do anything else. Her own need to know where it could lead drove her. He didn’t hurt her, but he gave no quarter. There was no concession to her innocence or inexperience. He kissed her as if she knew precisely where it would take them. It felt hungry, as if he would devour her right there on the spot. And heaven help her, she wanted him to.
Her arms closed about him without conscious thought, holding him close and clinging to him for purchase all at once. Surely, weak as her knees had become, she could not support her own weight. And he drew closer still, pressing her fully against the tree, mindless of the rough bark as he nipped at her lips with his teeth. Unable to do anything else, she returned every stroke of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth upon her lips. And then he was pulling himself away from her, his lips coasting along her jaw and down the column of her neck. It was as if every part of her had come roaring to life. Her heart pounded and her breath quickened, as if there simply wasn’t enough air to be had. She could feel the blood rushing in her veins and she could feel him. Everywhere. The weight and press of him, the rough texture of his whiskers on her skin, the heat of his mouth, all of it simply consumed her.
A sound escaped her, half-sob and half-plea. She knew not which, nor did she care. But as abruptly as their kiss had begun, he tore himself away from her. He strode several paces away, his breathing heavy and ragged as was her own. Then she heard it. The slight snap of twigs. Someone was near. Someone had seen them.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder, his gaze holding an apology that she did not want. Then the tree, only inches above her head, seemed to explode. A shower of bark and wood chips rained down on her, some of them stinging her flesh.
Then she felt Val’s arms around her, taking her to the ground, his body covering hers.
Touching one hand to her face, it came away wet with blood. “What happened? What was that?” she asked, staring at the red stains on her fingertips in horror.
His expression quizzical, he said, “Someone tried to shoot you. Tell me, Lillian Burkhart, how many enemies have you amassed in your short life?”
“There’s no one,” she said.
Suddenly grim, he said, “That’s what I was afraid you would say. You might not have any enemies, but I have them by the score. And it seems I’ve given them a new target.”
Chapter Seven
He’d never been more furious in his life. Having such an intimate moment in such a public place had been undeniably foolish. It had been bad enough when he simply thought someone had spied
on them. But afterward, with Lilly lying on the ground, blood streaking the porcelain perfection of her cheek, Val could admit that he’d been afraid. It was an emotion he’d experienced very infrequently in his life, and it was one that he detested. The urge to run after the person who’d tried to hurt her had warred with his need to keep her close, to be certain of her safety. In the end, that had won out.
They’d left the park quickly and returned to the townhouse where a physician had been summoned. He’d taken one look at her, proclaimed her healthy enough, advised them to keep the wounds clean and left with the promise of a hefty bill to be sent.
“You need a better physician,” Val snapped at this grandmother.
“He’s a perfectly capable physician, and you, Valentine, are being unreasonable,” the dowager duchess replied sourly. “She’s not the only woman to ever be injured. Good heavens. One would think this was a love match rather than a blatant attempt to goad your old grandmother into an early grave!”
Val halted his pacing and glared at her. “Don’t pretend with me. You’re as pleased as punch about all of this because you led me right into it. It’s just like playing chess with you when I was a boy!”
She smiled then. “Prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove it. I bloody well know,” he snapped.
“Do not curse in my presence. I will not have it, Valentine,” she admonished.
“Someone shot at her!”
“Someone fired a shot that happened to go wild and in her general direction!” His grandmother waved her hand dismissively. “Do not seek plots where plots do not exist!”
“It missed her by mere inches,” Val said. “She could easily have died.” The very thought of it made his blood run cold. It also tweaked his conscience. Had he not been so distracted by his own carnal desires, no one would have gotten close enough to them to take such a shot at her.
“And we are all eternally grateful that she did not. And if—mind you that is a very great if—someone did try to harm her intentionally, there is no greater protection any woman can have than that of her husband’s name and title. The sooner you are married, the safer she will be. A companion might be killed without consequence, as we all sadly know, but a viscountess carries a far steeper penalty.”
Val considered it for only a moment but, ultimately, he knew she was right. “Fine. In the meantime, keep Elsworth away from her.”
His grandmother rolled her eyes. “Good heavens. You are in a terrible way if you’re jealous of your cousin! Why, she practically towers over him. Not to say she’s a long meg. Lovely girl, but Elsworth is… well, he’s Elsworth.”
Val stopped. “I’m not jealous, Grandmama. But the simple fact is that you were going to leave all your wealth to Elsworth if I failed to marry. Within twenty-four hours of being betrothed to me, Miss Burkhart is nearly shot and killed in the park. I asked her who her enemies were and she said no one. But we both know that isn’t true now, don’t we? There is only one person who will benefit from her death and he’s under this very roof.” With that, Valentine left. He didn’t bother with his horse or a hack. His destination was only a few streets over. There was one man who could help him—Highcliff.
By the time he reached his friend and mentor’s residence, his temper had cooled enough that he could at least speak civilly. When the butler answered the door and proceeded to tell him that Highcliff was indisposed, Val simply pushed past the man rather than punching him in the nose. It was proof that he was in control of his rage.
“Study or solarium?”
“Study, my lord,” the butler said, with a heavy and much put upon sigh.
Val knew the way. Marching down the hall, he rapped sharply on the door and let himself in.
Highcliff was seated at his desk, dressed only in his shirt and breeches. His long hair was disheveled and there was a nearly empty bottle of brandy at his elbow.
“Is that left over from last night or are you getting an early start?”
“A late finish,” Highcliff answered. “Did I miss the part where my butler announced you? No. No, I did not. I did miss the part where I told him I was willing to receive callers this morning, however.”
“I need your help,” Val said.
“You and everyone else,” Highcliff retorted. He eyed the brandy speculatively for a moment, then without bothering with a glass, tipped it to his lips. When he lowered it to dangle from his fingertips, with a significantly decreased volume of liquid within, he added, “I’m not sharing. You’re not a guest, so I don’t have to.”
“Then what the hell am I?” Val demanded.
“At the moment? An interloper and a bloody nuisance. What do you want?”
Val seated himself in the chair opposite the desk, ignoring his cantankerous friend’s indignant expression. “I need a special license.”
“For what?”
“To get married.”
Highcliff set the bottle down with a thud. “Not this again. Bloody hell. You and Deveril are about to be the damned death of me. Can’t you just post the banns and get married the way normal people do? All this wedding business is making my head ache.”
“I would be happy to, except that someone tried to shoot my betrothed this morning… and I think it was Elsworth,” Val explained. “I don’t have time to wait for the banns.”
That certainly got his attention. No longer bleary eyed and appearing for all the world to be a dissipated rogue, Highcliff sat up straight. “Why?”
“Grandmother’s ultimatum. Marry by year’s end, just over two months from now, or be written out of her will. All the wealth would go to Elsworth. I would get only the entailed properties which I’d never be able to support and would wind up a pauper.”
“And he knew this was coming… he banked on your rebellious nature, didn’t he?” Highcliff said. “He’s never understood that you and your grandmother butt heads because you enjoy it and that it’s the way the two of you show affection to one another. He thinks your little spats are legitimate.”
It made as much sense as anything else. “Something like that. But I think he may be in over his head and desperate. He needs the money, more so now than he ever has.”
Highcliff cocked his head to one side, drummed his fingers on the desk, and said, “Go on. I’m listening.”
“He’s been looking for investments for months now, talking primarily to people who will take him on credit of his expectations. So he’s clearly had an inkling for some time that this ultimatum was coming,” Val explained. “I suspect he’s bribed my grandmother’s man of affairs to give him intelligence on that score. And then I discovered, while I was at the tables, that he’s been in deep with some individuals who have been supplying arms to that small fraction of Frenchmen who think to pick up where Bonaparte left off—those that are already being watched by agents of the Crown.”
“And where are these shipments of arms coming from… or where were they intended to go?” Highcliff asked.
“And with one question, you have cut straight through to the heart of the matter,” Val said on a heavy sigh. “All of those shipments that have been lost en route to our soldiers in India… they have been diverted by these individuals directly into the hands of our would-be enemies in France.”
Highcliff let out a curse. “Does he know what they’re about? I’ve no great admiration for Elsworth, but this seems more brazen than something he would typically do.”
“I think he does now. I do not believe he went into it knowingly. Regardless, he can’t just walk away from them. The only way to extricate him now is to cut off his funding… by getting married and meeting my grandmother’s demands.”
“Deveril’s niece…” Highcliff paused as if deep in thought. “She was fathered by a man by the name of Alaric Munro… also known as Alaric West. Is there a connection?”
Val sucked in a breath. “Yes. There is. One of the munitions factories that is frequently having shipments diverted through attacks by pirates or other br
igands is owned by his stepfather. As you are aware, no doubt.”
“I was aware, but I did wish to confirm. Have we identified all of the players yet?”
“No. There are still a few shadowy figures, likely silent partners and perhaps even our peers who are invested in these companies or who are awarding government contracts to these companies when time and again they have failed to fulfill them,” Val answered. “You know as well as I do that this goes far beyond West and far beyond Elsworth.”
“I do know that. And you’re right. We can’t afford to let all of this blow up in our faces until we’ve managed to out every last one of the villains.” Highcliff steepled his hands. “But there are other matters to consider in this moment. If it comes out, you’ll be ruined. And despite all you’ve done, Whitehall will wash its hands of you. They will not tolerate an operative with ties to a traitor. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m nearly done with it all anyway. I don’t know how much longer I can do what I do, Highcliff. Not if I want any shred of my soul left,” Val admitted.
The other man nodded. “You’ve certainly done your part and then some. I do hate to lose you, though. Gambling and women are the best ways to get information out of anyone and no one plays cards like you. Fine. I’ll get your license for you. And you get Elsworth in check. I don’t want it to go down like this. He might be the nephew of a duke, but if it’s treason, that won’t keep him from Tyburn and it certainly will not keep society from turning on you like a pack of jackals.”
“If another attempt on Lilly’s life occurs, Tyburn will be the least of his worries.”
Highcliff drummed his fingers on the desk thoughtfully. “It may not be your cousin. You, my friend, have a very divisive effect on society. Those who have been saved from disgrace by your skill versus those who have been ruined by it have very different viewpoints of you. Have you considered that your decision to take her as your bride might be putting this young woman in terrible danger from sources outside your family?”
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