by Gaelen Foley
Good. If Derek had not showed up yet, then in all likelihood Edward would not have made it home by this early hour, either.
After all of Derek’s shocking revelations last night, Lily intended to use this slim window of opportunity to find out for herself exactly what was going on. She had stewed and simmered all night long. By God, she would not be played for a fool. By morning, she knew what she had to do. Mere words, claims, from either man were not going to convince her anymore. She needed proof.
While Edward was still away, she devised a scheme to slip into his house, break into his office—the same feat Derek had failed to accomplish during the garden party—and either confirm or disprove the major’s theory that the nabob was broke. If Edward was indeed going to jilt her in favor of Bess Kingsley, as Derek predicted, then this might be her last chance to find the truth.
As she paced the stable aisle restlessly, waiting for the groom to bring out her horse, she knew she was in a unique position to carry out this task. Long identified as Edward’s future bride and lady of the house, the army of servants and all of his rugged henchmen would not be overly surprised to see her, just in case she was spotted; however, she was not going to allow that to happen.
She knew how to get into his monstrous castle-house unseen, and she knew where he kept his private papers. It was risky, but she was angry enough to try her luck. She craved answers. She had played the obedient young lady for much too long and could not stand it anymore.
Having shaped her scheme before breakfast, she waited until Mrs. Clearwell left for a morning call. Then she eluded the servants, letting them think she was still resting in her chamber behind its closed door. Meanwhile, she had slipped out the back, clad in her riding habit.
“Here she is, Miss. Neat and nice, fed and watered, groomed and shod and ready to go.”
Lily turned around as the rhythmic click of hoofs sounded in the aisle behind her. Her jaw dropped when she saw the horse that Derek had promised her as a gift. She could barely believe her eyes. By God, it was a miracle!
After barely a week of Derek’s skilled and tender care, the formerly battered, run-down horse glistened with rejuvenated health. Her red coat was as smooth and burnished as a new copper penny; her blond mane was braided with a bit of red ribbon in it to match the thick red saddle blanket, as soft as a cloud, which bore the monogram “MN.”
Mary Nonesuch. Her namesake.
A wry smile played at Lily’s lips as she ran her gloved hand along the horse’s smooth, strong neck. “What a good girl. Do you remember me? Yes, you do, don’t you? I gave you all those lovely carrots and apples,” she murmured. “He’s taken good care of you, hasn’t he? You look like the belle of the ball now.”
Derek had bought soft new tack for the mare, as well as a lady’s side-saddle of fine quality. Red embroidery adorned the rich brown bridle. Lily took a moment longer to let the horse get used to her, caressing her rounded cheek and scratching the now-bright white star on her forehead.
The sweet, calm, trusting expression in the mare’s big, liquid-brown eyes belied the suffering she had endured.
With a tug at her heart, she nodded to the groom to let him know she was ready to mount up.
He assisted her into the side-saddle. Lily smoothed her skirts and gathered the reins, but was taken off guard by the incredibly empowering feeling of having her own horse beneath her.
When she was a little girl, she’d had a chubby dapple-gray pony to ride around Grandfather’s acreage, but it had been years since she’d had the means to go where she wanted to go whenever she pleased. She could feel new strength and confidence rush into her. Where had it been all these years?
“Why, it’s a match in heaven,” the first groom said with an admiring smile as he took off his cap and raked his fingers through his tousled blond hair.
The other boy offered her a riding crop, but recalling the ruthless coachman’s whip, Lily shook her head. “I think we’ll get along just fine without it.”
“You won’t have her out too long, will you, Miss—?”
“Balfour.”
The groom nodded. “Miss Balfour. Major said it’s best to take it slow until she’s stronger.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but I’ll take care to rest her frequently along the way.” With a gentle bump of her heel, Lily signaled the mare to go, but she looked back over her shoulder as Mary the Mare ambled down the stable aisle. “If you see the Major would you tell him I said—thanks.”
“Will do, Miss.”
Ducking out of the stable, they emerged into the day’s golden sunshine, and leaving the Althorpe’s yard, Lily took her easygoing mount out into the streets of London.
Free! Her heart soared inexplicably. Except for the absence of a groom or chaperone, she looked every inch the part of the fashionable young lady heading to Hyde Park for a genteel canter. But that was not her destination, so she lowered the veil that draped her smart riding hat to help conceal her identity in case she rode past anyone she knew.
Soon she was on her way, cantering the smooth-going sorrel mare out of the bustling city, toward the serenely wooded and garden-clad outskirts of London, where mansions like Edward’s lined the Thames.
Along the way, she debated with herself a bit nervously about what she should do on the off chance that Edward arrived home during the course of her mission. She supposed she would think of something, but given the condition she had found him in upon walking into the pub, he’d probably need to spend the whole of today recovering in his room upstairs at the inn.
She hoped he was miserably ill. The lout deserved it.
Before long, Lily reached the tall metal fence that rimmed Edward’s estate. Locating a section of fence that offered plenty of woodsy cover to hide her horse, she tethered her mount to one of the horizontal bars of the fence. Then she got up on the horse again and stood on the saddle, gingerly climbing over the barrier’s tall wrought-iron spikes.
Jumping down neatly onto Edward’s land, she fixed her skirts again, then began prowling toward the house, her heart pounding.
With both the master and his mother away, the staff must have been taking their usual tasks at a leisurely pace, for instead of the usual buzz of industrious activity everywhere, outside, the place was quiet.
Approaching nearer, she spotted a few of Edward’s henchmen loitering by the stable wall, smoking and talking and playing cards. They didn’t see her.
She darted around a large flowering shrub, making her way through the garden, toward the one door that she knew was probably open. The conservatory door, which led out onto the garden’s flagstone terrace, was usually left propped open because in summer the glasshouse grew uncomfortably hot. Mrs. Lundy had often complained about the heat spreading to the rest of the house.
Sure enough, once she had the terrace gained, she was able to slip inside, dodging behind an enormous planter when a maid went hurrying by. The uniformed servant girl bustled past, heading toward the kitchens. Lily waited and listened, remaining crouched behind the planter until she was sure the girl had gone.
Once more, she was on her way, tiptoeing past the great hall, where two more maids were chatting idly as they dusted, and giggling over which of the footmen was handsomest. Padding through the empty dining room with all its glistening gilt, Lily turned the corner into the same silent corridor down which she had trailed Derek during the garden party.
Now that she knew his true intention that day, she was impressed to see how far he had actually come before she had so inconveniently interrupted him. Edward’s private study lay straight ahead, at the end of the hallway. She spotted its closed door. But then she stifled a gasp, whirling into the same curtained alcove where Derek had accosted her, as one of Edward’s fierce-looking henchmen crossed the intersection down the hallway.
She believed it was Mr. Bates.
Lily pressed herself against the wall, her heart pounding. Oh, perhaps this whole mission was a bit mad on her part—but it
was too late to back out now. Her chosen destination was in reach, just a few yards away.
A wary peek around the corner of the alcove assured her that Bates had moved on.
Leaving her hiding place, she swept past the parlor where Derek had done such delicious things to her. An involuntary shudder of remembered pleasure raced through her, but she did her best to thrust it aside, intent on her mission. Moving with unhesitating stealth, her footfalls making barely a whisper over the polished floors, she reached the door to Edward’s study. Opening it with ginger care, she peeked through the cracked door with one eye.
Empty.
Skirts whirling around her, she rushed inside and pulled the door shut, quickly locking it. Pressing a hand to her chest, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her heart was hammering so loudly she wondered how the noise of it did not alert the entire staff that they had an intruder. The only one who seemed to notice anything amiss was Edward’s ferocious fight dog, Brutus. She could hear the black beast barking viciously from all the way outside in his cage next to the stable.
But other than a loud, impatient “Shut up!” nobody paid the barking dog any mind. Well, that hellhound’s constant clamor was nothing unusual. Lily was only glad that they never let Brutus out of his cage. If he could kill his canine opponents in minutes, she would have hated to see what he could do to a person.
She wasted no time dwelling on the morbid question. The thick velvet curtains over the windows cast a shadowy midday pall over the room despite the brilliant sunshine outdoors, but the gloom was not dark enough to obscure the various places she’d need to search. She scanned the dusty, oak-paneled study with a glance.
A glass-doored cabinet housed the series of red leather-bound folios tied shut with black ribbons containing Edward’s files—business correspondence and records and such. These ledger books were neatly alphabetized, each with a gilt-tooled letter on its spine.
But then her gaze homed in on the large metal safe by the wall. Now that was the logical place where Edward would store his most sensitive documents. She hurried over to check, but of course it was locked. The formidable iron door refused to budge.
Speeding silently across the room, she got right to work searching the grand baronial desk for a key. Edward’s desk was cluttered with an array of everyday items: a small hourglass, a supply of unsharpened quills, jars of indigo and sepia ink, wafers of sealing wax, a silver tray of powdered drying sand, a letter opener, a few writing pads, extra candles, and a large brass oil lamp.
With the mantel clock above the empty fireplace relentlessly tick, tick, ticking away the minutes, her search grew ever more urgent.
Aha! She suddenly discovered a small key tucked under the little tray of drying powder. She rushed back over to the safe, but before she could congratulate herself on her spy skills, she frowned.
The key didn’t fit. Well, what’s it for, then? It had to open something.
She turned and swept her gaze over the entire office again. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of a folded piece of paper sticking out from beneath the leather desk pad.
It had been hidden before, but she must have moved the pad in her search, for it was visible now. At once, she strode over and slid the paper out from underneath it. She unfolded the paper and discovered that it was a tender farewell letter to “Eddie” from his doting mama.
Mrs. Lundy had left a heaping of affectionate advice on how her boy must take care of himself properly while she was gone. Get his rest. Eat his vegetables. Lily couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow. The feared Edward Lundy might look like a ruffian, but there was a side of him that was nothing but an overgrown mama’s boy. Twirling the mysterious key in thought as she read on, Lily came to a paragraph that made her wonder…
You must have faith and be strong until I return. Do your best not to worry overmuch, but take comfort in knowing that I, of all people, will not fail you. When that weasel of a solicitor hears that I’m on my way to oversee this matter personally on your behalf, he will not dare trifle with us a moment longer. You just keep your cards close to the chest, my dear, and keep them all busy in London. Never fear. I will be on my way back to you as soon as the sale is complete, and then Sinclair can go to the devil. I promise you, all will be well…
Lily frowned in puzzlement. I thought she went to Jamaica for her gout. But this would seem to hint at a completely different explanation. The rest of the letter contained nothing but more mother-hen fussing.
Finished reading it, Lily quickly tucked it back under the desk pad. Making sure she had put everything back on Edward’s desk the way she had found it, she glanced around and realized the next logical thing to check was Edward’s filing system of ledger books.
A daunting task. She suppressed a dull sigh, put the tiny key down on the corner of the desk, and went over to the cabinet. She reached for the small wooden knob on the glassed door, but as she opened it, the knob pulled right off in her hand. Broken! She stifled a curse as the tiny metal screw that was supposed to have held the knob in place fell to the hardwood floor with a small clatter.
“Blast,” she whispered, bending down to catch it as it rolled away toward the base of the nearest bookcase. She glanced toward the door to Edward’s study, praying no one had heard the small noise.
As she reached down to retrieve the stray piece, the collection of books arrayed on the low shelf at her current eye-level brought a wry smirk to her lips, for she noticed that the titles were in Latin. Well, that is the height of pretension. Edward hadn’t a word of the Classical tongues. She doubted he had ever read an actual book in his life.
Suddenly, she frowned. Something looked weird about those books. They were too…perfect. She reached to take one off the shelf and gasped as she discovered it wasn’t a real book at all. The unobtrusive row of seeming Latin titles were in fact only an artfully crafted plaster concealment.
Her jaw dropped when she gave the row of fake books a tug and they popped forward, then glided up on a metal arm, revealing a metal safe within, long and narrow, fashioned to fit the shape of the hidden compartment. Why, Edward, you devil! Noting the keyhole in the middle of the safe, she snorted, got up, and hurried back to the desk, retrieving the tiny key she had found.
A perfect fit.
What she found inside the secret safe were more files. The real ledger books, she suspected. At first glance, they appeared identical to the ones on display so transparently in the glass case, but their contents must have been considerably more hazardous to have warranted this disguise.
She pulled out the first folio labeled “A–B” and set it on her lap, untying the ribbon. Opening the slim leather case, she began hastily riffling through the collection of loose papers and old correspondence. Nervous about her trespass and beginning to feel a bit desperate—after all, she didn’t even know for certain what she ought to be looking for—she came to the end of the A’s, started flipping through the start of the B’s, and stopped cold.
Balfour, Lily.
She pulled a neatly fastened set of papers out of the file and stared at it, barely able to believe her eyes. Edward had hired a private investigator to look into her background!
Her mouth went dry. Her hands began to shake, and she rushed through the pages in stunned disbelief.
Good God, there were dates and details not just on her, but on her grandfather, his holdings, his date of death, the date of her parents’ marriage, the church where she had been christened—even the name of her first governess!
Lily was horrified.
She knew the practice of investigating one’s prospective spouse was not unheard of among the wealthy and the powerful, but being the subject of such an inquest herself was appalling to a private woman…with secrets to hide.
But slowly, her pulse slowed back to normal and her terror began to ease. By some miracle, there was no mention of Lord Owen Masters in the investigator’s report. Her family’s code of icy silence must have worked to guard her reputation even from a professional
sneak.
It was bad enough that Edward’s private investigator had managed to learn about the drunken duel of honor in which her hotheaded cousin, David, Pamela’s younger brother, had thrown away his life. If poor Davy had not been so wild, he’d have inherited the title after Grandfather. But chasing his own destruction in the grand manner of the luckless Balfours, the lusty lad had called the wrong man a cheat at cards and had wound up dead, maiming his opponent, in turn.
Reading the account of her last male cousin’s demise cast a cloud of darkness over her heart. If there had been more time, she would have pored over the Balfour file in detail, but then a new thought suddenly gripped her.
At once, she replaced the papers in the ledger book, retied its black ribbon, and hurried to put the folio away. Skipping over the other letters, she went straight for the “K–L” folio. What if Edward, in his paranoia, had commissioned a similar report on Derek?
After all, Derek was not the friend to Edward that he was pretending to be, a fact he had revealed to Lily outside the Bull’s Head Inn. But did Edward know this, too?
If Edward was just playing along, aware that Derek was actually his foe, then that could spell trouble for the major. On the other hand, Lily’s motives in checking for a file on Derek were not solely born of a noble desire to protect him.
She had been duped by a handsome liar once before, and after last night, finding Derek that way at the tavern, all of her scarred vulnerability in this area was on full alert. It was a slight detour from her purpose in coming here, but if Derek was a liar, it was best to face it now.
Edward’s paranoia had provided her with a chance she might never get again, to discover any secrets about Derek that he might not have wanted her to find out…
She opened the K–L folio across her lap and turned through the entries.
Kane, Phillip. The first file in the ledger book was a thick one, full of financial-looking papers…
She turned past it.
Kingsley, Miss Elizabeth. Well! It seemed Edward really was considering marrying Bess, if he had gone to the trouble of having her investigated, too. Somewhat mollified that at least Bess had been subjected to the same indignity, Lily skipped the opportunity to peruse the private details of Bess Kingsley’s life.