“You didn’t answer my question.”
The words held no warmth, and Robert lifted his battered head and met the gaze of the woman who remained.
Cordelia.
Her name sent his heart pounding, tensed his limbs until he fisted his hands to contain the pressure. But even as he tried to grasp how he knew her, to grab hold of the memories, they disappeared like sandcastles culled, shaved and nicked by the wind.
But he knew her. He knew her.
“I have to go after Lily.”
“If you think you’ll be able to salvage something of your marriage, you’re a fool. She will be on that ship for America.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He turned to leave.
“Who did you come to see that morning, Robert?” Cordelia called after him. “When you find her, this will be the first question Lily wants an answer to, so you might as well practice upon me. Was it Lily’s letter you answered or mine?”
The air around them sparked with a history unspoken.
Things were trickling back, not whole memories, but strands he could piece enough together to know his entire life had fishtailed that morning.
He wanted the answer to be Lily, of course it had to be her. But even as the rest of the events of that day unfolded one bit at a time, that answer eluded him. He didn’t know.
He could feel the uncertainty tugging, yanking at him—a push-pull in his body that demanded action. But what? What emotion belonged here?
What had he felt for Lily’s sister?
“I deserve an answer.”
He turned his head, met her gaze. “Lily deserves it first.”
“I came first. You met her while you were courting me.”
“Be that as it may, I married her.”
With Lily, it was simple. Every time he’d been in her presence, it had been a constant lure toward her, a need to be near her warmth, to see her smile. A desperation to be the man who brought that smile to her face. It had lifted him up.
He’d felt joy when she was near, an emotion he’d had so little experience with he hadn’t recognized it.
He was drawn to Cordelia, but those emotions stirred did the opposite. Those emotions, the detachment, the challenge of never being good enough, those had been familiar.
“Whatever I wanted then doesn’t matter now.”
“Is she a whim now, then? Be a man for once in your life and leave her alone. Let her go to America as she plans.”
“As who plans?” The words were sharp and Cordelia turned.
“Adam.”
“Who plans to go to America?” Adam turned on Robert. “Is this your doing? Are you attempting to run away from whatever mess you have created? You knew this, Cordelia?” Adam demanded. “You never said a word?”
She threw up her hands. “It was not my secret to tell. I do declare, I cannot win in this family. I am accused no matter what my actions.”
“Perhaps because they are so rarely the right ones to take.” Adam snapped a finger in his face, and Robert startled. “Where is Lily now?”
“She left after he remembered my name,” Cordelia said.
“She left? How could you let her? With whatever bastards you have set at her heels?” Adam gave them both a disgusted glare and walked away. A few feet from the corner, he turned to Robert. “You remember.”
“Some things, just pieces. Not a lot makes sense right now.”
“It had better be enough to fix whatever mess you’ve gotten into.”
Robert tried to pull the memories apart, but it only made his head hurt. Things were starting to surface, and he knew it was only a matter of time. He didn’t answer, but Adam didn’t need one.
“You will not involve Lily any longer. I’ll damn well put Lily on a ship myself to keep her away from you. Although after whatever occurred here, perhaps she’s made that decision herself.”
That was the one thing Robert was most afraid of.
He needed to find Lily, but he had no idea what to tell her. He had only partial answers.
The one thing he was clear on: he didn’t deserve her.
But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing whatever it took to keep her.
Chapter Twenty Three
Hours later, Lily closed the door to Robert’s room behind her. Her heart pounded. She didn’t want to see him, she just wanted the sketches.
The fire from earlier had been allowed to flare out, and it was obvious he hadn’t returned. But the remaining light in the room allowed her to search and—There they were.
The drawings had been flung about, and she bent to grab each paper she found. She didn’t need the drawings of her, but she didn’t want to miss anything that might provide a clue.
She held the stack of papers against her chest, one arm keeping them together as she made her way to the door. After a furtive peek down the corridor, she hurried out, intent on making it downstairs without seeing him or Cordelia. Lily had so far managed to hide from both.
Although the sick roll in her stomach told her what she already suspected: Robert was gone and he wasn’t coming back.
Which was fine. She didn’t care. The only person she wanted to see was Adam.
Had Robert always remembered Cordelia?
Every time Lily left out a piece of their history, had he known? He’d asked questions. Had they been prompts to get her to admit the truth?
Lily hated that, once again, she had questions unanswered. It seemed to be the underlying thread of her life, living on a tightrope of uncertainty.
He’d received two letters. Had Cordelia been the one to find him that night, their entire lives might have different.
If it had been Cordelia and Robert on the cusp of being compromised, would they have leapt at the chance of a betrothal? Would it have made them happy?
The nausea in her stomach rolled in waves until it reached her throat. All this time, had she been the one who stood in the way of their love?
Was this their love story and she the villain?
She turned the corridor toward Adam’s study and glanced at the sketches she held close. He had drawn these during the course of their marriage. He was an artist, they’d said. His work was legendary. Important to them.
He was a forger. A criminal.
Had this all been a ruse to avoid whatever was going on with those men? She couldn’t take one more question.
Lily opened the door to Adam’s study. “Where have you been? I saw Robert and Cordelia earlier—”
Lily dumped the sketches on his desk.
He studied the images. “What are these?
“These are what he does for those men,” Lily cut him off. She leaned forward, shifted the drawings of her out of the way so he could inspect the others.
Adam’s scowl grew darker the longer he inspected them. “What the hell is this?” He picked up the paper. “He was sketching banknotes?” His gaze shot to hers. “He was a forger?”
“He said he didn’t remember, that Edwin told him.” Why was she defending him? “He found these drawings, but he never told me. I don’t know who my husband was, who he is. How could I not know, Adam? Tell me that.”
“Forgery is a hanging offense.”
She blanched. The memory of Old Bailey, the broadsheet she’d found, the bloodlust of the people stirred up and the broadsheet was fresh.
Would they make a broadsheet for Robert? What would it say? “I don’t want him to die.” She couldn’t bear the thought. “But I also don’t want to be a pawn in some game he’s playing. And before you say it, yes, you told me so. A few hours ago at that.”
Adam stood, came around the desk. Within steps, he put out his arms and enfolded her against him. His warmth, strength surrounded her and she felt a crack in the armor of her anger. She shook her head. She didn’t want that.
She wanted to be angry. It was easier.
“I would never tell you I told you so,” Adam replied.
His tease made her hiccup with a half laugh. The
n his arms tightened again, and that was all it took for the cracks to splinter. Tears pushed at her eyes, an ache pressed on her chest. In mere seconds, she thought she might be crushed by the overwhelming pain that radiated through every part of her.
“When do you leave?” Adam’s voice was gruff.
“Who told—Cordelia.”
“You should have told me. Does Mama know?”
“Yes. I sent them a letter. I’m traveling on one of Franklin’s ships,” she replied, referring to their stepfather, who owned a shipping company. “They will be expecting me. Maybe I should have gone with them when you offered it.”
“I hate that you must leave.” Adam’s tone was laced with anger, not directed at her, she knew.
“Maybe I don’t need to go—”
“You are going.” He had pulled out the earl-who-doesn’tbroker-argument tone. Lily was too worn down to argue, and what was the point?
She had intended to leave, before Robert had derailed her emotions. But none of that mattered now, so she could move forward with her course of action.
The arrangements were made. All she had to do was get on that ship.
“We need to talk to Ravensdale about what you saw, about these banknotes,” Adam said. “We’ll figure out what is best.”
“What are you going to do?” A pinch of uncertainty smarted. “What will happen to him?”
Adam leaned over, pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “You don’t need to involve yourself. That man will not harm you, and we’ll find a way to resolve this. I need to send for Michael.” He strode toward the door, muttering under his breath, “I knew Melrose would bring nothing but heartache to this family.”
As he strode out, Lily scrunched her face. “Couldn’t resist, after all.”
Chapter Twenty Four
Robert tugged his coat closer, but it did little to fight the cold weariness that had invaded him. He stood across the street from Lily’s brother’s home. No, her home.
Oh yes, his memory had returned. Oh yes, he had his faculties back.
He knew exactly who he was.
The last week had been a grand tour of life without any sort of context weighing his thoughts, without the deep-seated resentments built up into a veritable fortress. Without the rage, the loneliness that had plowed a deep, dark hole inside of him.
Those old friends had come shoving up his throat with fighting fists of entitlement and righteous indignation.
After leaving Cordelia, he’d walked home, but hadn’t been able to go in. He didn’t want to face Edwin, anyone. Every corner he turned, he faced yet another fist, filled with one more memory hungry to dig into him, to claw him to pieces. Then another fist ready to clobber him with all the reasons he was useless. Unnecessary.
His mother had never wanted him. His brothers had little time for him. He’d chosen to court a woman, Cordelia, who had looked down upon him for all the things he wasn’t.
She would have never chosen him, no matter her protests to the contrary. Then he’d married a woman he had known he’d never deserve.
Now in addition to the familiar demons, he’d acquired new ones. Cary’s death. Guilt over the terror and hurt his actions had inflicted on Lily. The knowledge of what Lily’s love could feel like.
He’d been right to distance himself. He wasn’t the man who could comfort her, who could pick up her pieces. He was broken, he’d been broken when he’d married her. The baby…God, losing that hope, that dream…
Darkness curled around his heart, seeping into the still-open wounds created by that loss.
When she had told him she was expecting, waves of delight had coursed over him and shaken the foundation of his world. He’d wanted that baby with the conviction of a starving man finding food.
For a brief time, the demons had calmed. He’d been foolish to think they’d vanished. They’d only slumbered, waiting for a time to rear their ugly heads and take everything away.
His mother had died and taken his child, his hope, with her. She’d had the last word even in death—leaving him with stark fact that he had never deserved to have what he wanted.
Pain slashed through him. Lily had planned to leave for America the entire time? He’d known she was leaving, before the accident. This was not new information. So why did knowing it again, now, sting with the power of a newly flayed wound?
Robert watched the quiet house. The warm glow of the lights shone through the windows. Mere steps would take him to her, yet the house was a world apart. Robert had wanted answers when memory eluded him. Now he had no idea how to battle the war raging inside.
He was drowning.
Damn it, he wanted to beg her to stay.
Lily deserved better than him, there was no question.
But he had been better. For a short while, he’d been free to love her. The memory of that, of her, offered a heady fantasy of what his life could have been.
And he wanted it back.
“It’s a mighty fine house.”
The gruff drawl turned his head. A man stepped from the shadows, and Robert’s body tensed.
“What are you doing here?” he asked flatly.
The thug glanced at the house. “Yer wife sure is a pretty thing. A bit feisty, though.” He clucked. “You really ought to teach her how to use a gun.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“She didn’t tell ye, I see. You were ill. She tried to protect you, a valiant effort I might add. But women shouldn’t be holding guns.” He looked up at the house. “Yer staying here now, are ye?”
The message was clear: Kane and his men knew where he was.
But more importantly, they knew where Lily was and that she was important to him.
After all Robert had done to keep her safe, physically at least. He’d done whatever he could to deflect attention away from his marriage—the gossip in the papers, the intentional separation of their lives. He’d made sure she could never be used against him. Even if he’d been a dismal husband in so many other ways, he’d kept her safe.
That his accident, his lack of ability to control what happened had brought her into this life filled Robert with a rage he could barely contain. It curled his fingers into fists and he stepped closer. “Stay the bloody hell away from this house.”
Kane’s enforcer didn’t move, other than to slip a knife from his side. The blade glinted in the moonlight and Robert remembered that they called him Blade.
For his skill.
“Yes, she sure is pretty.” He ran the flat side of the blade over his palm.
“If you hurt a hair on her head, I will kill you myself.” Robert’s shoulders squared, his stance opened. Ready for battle.
“She stays safe if you just turn over what you owe. I can’t kill you,” Blade said. “Orders. I can’t touch your hands, either, but there is a lot in between that’s open. Next time you wish to make a warning, you remember that.” He nodded his head at Lily’s house. “Give my regards to yer wife.”
Robert itched for a weapon, hell, for Edwin even though he’d ordered him to stay at his townhouse.
He knew where the copperplates were now. He remembered. Including all of the materials he needed to make more.
His fingers twitched, and the pull to do just that bit with a force that made him jolt.
Blade was gone.
Robert knew what he had to do.
***
A hard clink on the table intruded on Lily’s attempt to escape into a book, though she’d read the last page about ten times and still couldn’t recall the words. She lifted her gaze from the pages. Promptly looked back down.
The book was snatched from her grasp.
“Give me that.”
Cordelia ignored her, dumped the book on a side table and set another glass and a decanter filled with a warm amber-colored liquid.
“What is it?” Lily eyed both the spirits and her sister with reservation.
Cordelia tugged the stopper out and poured two lib
eral glasses. Pushed one toward Lily. “Drink.”
“No, thank you. I prefer my book.” She stood up, intending to get her book from the table and Cordelia’s arm snaked out, shoving her back.
“Enough,” Lily snapped. “I don’t want—”
“You don’t want to think or feel. You think that book will provide solace. God knows, you spent enough hours with your nose buried in one. Tonight, that isn’t going to suffice, my dear sister. Trust me.” Cordelia shoved the drink a little closer, then took a generous sip of her own. “Drink.”
“No.”
“Coward.”
“Just because I don’t wish to drink, that doesn’t make me a coward. I cannot sit here and pretend.”
“He isn’t good enough for you, Lily. Never was.”
“But he’s good enough for you.” The numbness she’d achieved by delving into another world, into the fantasy of her book had begun to crack. Pain seeped out, pressing against her heart, bulging in her throat until she had to swallow. She stared at the drink in front of her.
“Go ahead,” Cordelia urged. “You’ll feel better. Why do you think men do this so often?”
Lily picked it up. The last thing she wanted was Cordelia’s voice in her head. She took a sip, felt the fiery warmth spread through her. She gasped a breath as moisture flooded her eyes. “Yes, that feels much improved.”
Cordelia took another sip of her own. “Keep drinking. It’s the warmth that comes over you after a glass or two that helps.”
Lily took another sip, noting it wasn’t quite as life-altering as the first. Then another. The warmth began to spread a little into her arms.
Cordelia didn’t speak. Just sat there, watching. Lily was grateful. She focused on finishing her glass and felt an odd sense of accomplishment when it was empty. She set it down.
Cordelia filled it again. “Drink more.”
“I shouldn’t be drinking with you.” She picked up the glass anyway.
“Because I am the devil. I know. It’s time you stopped blaming me for your choices, Lily. You married him. The scandal here would have ruined you here—and before you say it, yes, I know that was my doing. But you could have gone to America with Mama and Georgie. You chose to stay and marry Robert.” Lily opened her mouth, but Cordelia continued on. “I’m tired of being the wicked sister in this scenario, so we’re going to play a game.”
Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption Page 20