Falling from His Grace

by Kristin Vayden

  “Minx.”

  “Are you surprised?” Liliah asked softly, losing herself in his gaze.

  “No, not at all,” he murmured as his gaze seared down her jawline and dipped lower, as if undressing her with his eyes.

  Liliah’s skin flushed with heat, her body pulsing with something she couldn’t name but had certainly experienced before.

  “When are you shopping next?” Luc asked covertly, his gaze lazily traveling upward to her eyes.

  “Not nearly soon enough,” Liliah answered honestly.

  “Then am I to understand that your experience was satisfactory?” He grinned a seductive and secretive smile.

  Liliah tilted her chin, regarding him coyly. “I’m not certain once has given me enough experience to give an educated reply.”

  Luc chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. His crystal-blue eyes danced with merriment and seduction, making her wish they were in a more private venue—my, how rapidly she had become a wicked wanton!

  “Then I must find a way to remedy that, for educational purposes, you understand.”

  “It pleases me that you’re concerned with enriching my mind.”

  “I’ve been told I’m an excellent teacher.”

  It was Liliah’s turn to giggle. “I’ve been told I’m a horrid student.”

  Luc’s grip on her waist tightened as he murmured low, his gaze fixed upon hers. “I’m a persistent educator—thorough in every way.” His expression was pure seduction, and Liliah’s knees weakened, but she squared her shoulders.

  “Then I look forward to my education,” she replied bravely, then glanced away from the heat of his gaze, lest she do something utterly impulsive and kiss him on the dance floor. She’d never recover, and it would destroy Luc as well, for he wouldn’t be brought up to scratch, which would only tarnish his honor.

  It was a dangerous line she flirted with, yet she couldn’t muster up enough will to consider any other option.

  It was simple.

  She wanted him, desperately.

  And by some miracle, he wanted her as well.

  She wasn’t going to ignore such a golden opportunity—rather she’d run headlong into the folly, delighted.

  Be it her ruin or her sanity.

  “You’ve gone quite pensive,” Luc commented, regarding her.

  “Simply reminding myself to act the lady,” she replied with a saucy tone.

  “Propriety requires it . . . here.”

  Liliah shook her head in amusement, then paused as Luc’s expression sobered.

  “I learned a bit of information that might be of use to you, if you wish to hear it.”

  “Of course,” Liliah answered, both curious and touched that he’d consider revealing it to her.

  “It would seem that several men, including Lord Greywick, have placed large bets on your betrothal to Meyer.” He watched her intently.

  Liliah frowned. “It seems an odd thing on which to bet.”

  “Believe me, there have been more foolish ones. Yet it struck me as odd for Meyer’s father to bet a large sum. I know not what it implies, yet it might mean something to your friend.” He glanced over her shoulder and Liliah followed his gaze to see Meyer and Rebecca dancing.

  “I see. I’ll certainly try to uncover more details.” Liliah turned back to him. “I, I sincerely appreciate your taking note of this, and relaying the information to me. You didn’t need to, yet you did. For that, I’m thankful.” Liliah’s heart swelled with appreciation.

  “It was of no consequence.” Luc shrugged.

  “It was to me,” Liliah answered shyly as the music came to an end.

  “Until later.” Luc pulled her wrist up to his lips and kissed her gloved hand slowly, then kissed it a second time before releasing it.

  “How much later?” Liliah asked under her breath.

  “Not nearly soon enough.” His gaze traveled up her person, setting her nerves to tingling with desire. After bowing smartly, he strode away.

  Liliah watched his broad back retreat into the crowd that studied him unabashedly. As she walked to the edge of the ballroom, she noted the determined stride of her father, heading toward her. Her heart pinched in fear, yet before her father could cross the distance, her attention was sought out by Viscount Kilpatrick. “Ah, my lady, honor me?” He held out his hand.

  Liliah took it quickly and escaped back to the dance floor as the quadrille music began to play.

  “Thank you,” Liliah replied heartily as he led them into the square formation with three other couples.

  “Think nothing of it,” he replied in his smoky brogue.

  Liliah took position and curtseyed to Lord Kilpatrick, then turned to curtsey to the other couples. Soon she was trading partners with Lady Lessman, and grasping the hand of Lord Lessman for a turn, then returning to Viscount Kilpatrick. It was a delightful dance, but not one that allowed for conversation. However, the joyful music lifted her spirits from the trepidation of her father’s ire, and she danced with abandon.

  As she performed the final turns, the music ended as the dancers clapped in appreciation. Liliah joined in, even has her gaze searched for her father.

  He was nowhere to be readily seen, and she exhaled a sigh of relief as Lord Kilpatrick offered his arm.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, it is not every day that I get the opportunity to dance with such a lovely lady.”

  “You flatter me, sir.”

  “Yes. I do,” he teased, leading them to the refreshment table.

  “I must say, I was quite surprised to see you in attendance,” Liliah hedged.

  Lord Kilpatrick offered her a glass of madeira, which she accepted thankfully, even as she braced herself to sip of the overly sweet concoction.

  “Believe me when I say no one is more surprised than myself—except perhaps Heightfield.” He chuckled and took a long drink of the orgeat he procured for himself.

  Liliah regarded him. “How so?”

  “Ah, but that is for me to know, and for you . . . to discover.” He winked, then bowed, taking his leave.

  Liliah took another sip of her beverage, her mind wandering—so much so that she startled when a cold hand gripped her elbow.

  “We are leaving,” her father commanded, sending a shiver up her back.

  “But the last waltz . . .” Liliah said, even as he tugged on her elbow demandingly.

  “Isn’t important. Come,” he asserted and steered her toward the exit.

  He moved slowly, deliberately, clearly not wishing to cause a scene. There were a few whispers, but Liliah noted that he forced a smile to each of the people who dared glance their direction, as if deflecting attention.

  It was brilliant.

  It was calculating.

  It truly shouldn’t surprise her.

  As the carriage was pulled around front, Liliah took her seat and waited.

  Because while her father smiled at the world, it was only a mask that hid the truly black heart within.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Where is Liliah?” Lucas asked in a tight tone.

  Heathcliff shrugged, glancing about as if curious as well. “I left her by the refreshment table not a half hour ago. Where were you?”

  Lucas studied his friend’s glass of orgeat. His stomach turned at the idea of it. He’d much prefer brandy at the moment—hell, even water was better than the overly sweet, almond-flavored syrup they called a beverage. “I was conversing with an acquaintance.”

  Heathcliff arched a brow. “Who in the hell were you talking to here?”

  Lucas sighed. “Meyer, if you must know. Greywick’s son, the idiot who’s found himself betrothed to Liliah.”

  “Ah, that actually makes sense. You had me concerned, thought maybe you were losing not just your heart, but your sanity. The ton, bah!” Heathcliff shuddered.

  “Those same people line your pockets, and mine,” Lucas reminded him.

  “All the more reason to pity them,” He
athcliff added with a chuckle. “What did you speak of with Meyer?”

  “I simply informed him of his father’s substantial bet. The poor chap about choked when I named the amount. Makes me wonder if the earldom is in some sort of financial difficulty.”

  “Ramsey said he was good for it, did he not?”

  “He did, but he’s been wrong before.”

  “True.” Heathcliff nodded. “Anything else of note?”

  “Not in particular. The final waltz will come up later, and I was simply making arrangements.”

  “Ah, never thought I’d see the day when you’d play coy with a lass.”

  “I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Lucas replied in an offended tone.

  “You are indeed. Pussyfooting around, making plans. Why, if you want something . . . someone—take it! Be a man about it, Lucas.” Heathcliff nodded empathically.

  “This isn’t the Highlands.”

  Heathcliff huffed. “You needn’t remind me of that. I’m quite painfully aware.”

  “There’s protocol, and if I were to misstep, then—”

  “Then what, exactly? You’re sounding more and more like Ramsey.”

  “That’s because you’re a brute, and I sound nothing like Ramsey.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” Heathcliff shrugged.

  “By me, no doubt.”

  His friend grinned.

  “Why go about like a bull in a china shop, when one can be far more stealthy and gain more information and. . . privacy?” Lucas asked, grinning.

  “Ah, diabolical. I like it. Carry on.” Heathcliff gave a dismissive wave.

  “I would, could I find the woman in question.”

  “Perhaps you should find her father first, to make sure they didn’t take their leave.”

  Lucas’s blood ran cold. He hadn’t considered that Chatterwood would spirit his daughter away so quickly. Yet now, in hindsight, he could see its potential quite clearly. “Damn and blast.”

  “Try the faro table,” Heathcliff encouraged.

  But Lucas was already heading in that direction.

  His fears were confirmed when he couldn’t find the duke at the gaming tables, or milling about in the ballroom, nor could he find Liliah.

  They had most certainly left.

  His memory flashed back to Liliah’s father’s grip on her arm, the way he controlled her, held her tightly.

  Hurt her.

  Rage smoldered within, yet he was powerless to do anything save charge to the estate—which would only serve to have him thrown into the street on his ear.

  He needed a different plan.

  And he knew exactly whom he needed to ask for assistance.

  He only hoped she hadn’t left as well.

  Lucas searched the ballroom for Lady Rebecca. It wasn’t difficult to find her, for she was ever within earshot and eyesight of Meyer. At his approach, she cocked her head curiously.

  “My lady.” Lucas bowed.

  “My lord,” Lady Rebecca returned politely, her head still tilted, her eyes illuminated with curiosity.

  “I find myself in need of your assistance. Would you mind taking a turn about the room with me?”

  Lady Rebecca nodded once, placing her hand on his offered arm. “I find myself exceedingly curious as to why you’d need assistance from me, given our short acquaintance.”

  “It is in efforts to assist a mutual . . . friend.” The word tasted bitter in his mouth.

  “I see. And would this friend be the daughter of a duke?” Lady Rebecca asked.

  “Quite astute.”

  “Thank you. What assistance do you require?”

  Lucas studied Lady Rebecca, debating which approach to take with her. “Would you mind inviting your friend over to your estate on the morrow?”

  Lady Rebecca nodded once. “Yes, but I highly doubt her father will allow it. He’s been quite overbearing, and I’ve not received my friend in several weeks.”

  “Blast,” Lucas swore, then glanced at Lady Rebecca and apologized.

  “It is of no consequence.” She waved off his offensive word.

  “I still beg your pardon,” Lucas continued. “Perhaps you could send a missive? Would she meet you in the park, perhaps?”

  Lady Rebecca nodded once, hesitantly. “It is possible, yet I wouldn’t expect her father to allow a missive to reach her without his approving of its contents first.”

  “Is there anything the man leaves sacred?” Lucas asked with tight frustration as he led them around the perimeter of the ballroom.

  “Not of which I’m aware, I’m afraid,” Lady Rebecca replied, then she gasped slightly. “Except . . .”

  “Yes?” Lucas asked with unabashed interest.

  “Meyer.” Lady Rebecca breathed his name reverently.

  Lucas wasn’t surprised at her overly familiar use of his name. “Ah! Brilliant, my lady.”

  “I do have my moments. Since the banns are to be read this weekend, it’s quite . . .” She swallowed and Lucas paused in their progress to give her time to collect her emotions. “Decided,” she finished. “Their betrothal, I mean.” She sighed deeply.

  Lucas nodded, waiting.

  “I’d be surprised if the duke didn’t even encourage correspondence between the two.”

  “I see. Then I shall heed your excellent advice and speak with Meyer.” Lucas added. “And I thank you for your kind assistance.” He nodded gratefully.

  Lady Rebecca squeezed his arm, as if unwilling yet fully expecting him to dart away. “Wait, I do have a few questions of my own.”

  Lucas paused. “Of course.” He started their sedate walk once again and waited, tamping down the impatient desire to track down Meyer and set a plan in motion.

  “What are your intentions toward my friend?” Lady Rebecca asked with stark honesty.

  Lucas cut a glance to her. “Of a variety,” he answered cryptically, not certain how much information Liliah had imparted.

  “Spoken like a rogue,” Lady Rebecca replied, but a grin softened the accusation. “I feel the need to impress, in the strongest fashion, that my friend is not one to be trifled with, Lord Heightfield.” She arched a delicate brow and awaited his response.

  “How well you champion your friend, and well she deserves it,” he said by way of answer, neatly dodging the question.

  “Yes, well . . . that wasn’t exactly a vow of your honor,” Lady Rebecca responded.

  Lucas lowered his chin slightly, leveling her with his most intense gaze. “I’m not exactly a man known for honor, Lady Rebecca. But I can assure you that I wish no harm or assault on your friend’s character.”

  Lady Rebecca looked as if she wished to question him further, but paused, then after a moment, nodded. “Then I cannot ask for more. I can see I will not gain any more from you.”

  “Wise and lovely,” Lucas answered, lifting her wrist and kissing her hand to take his leave. “I thank you again for your assistance.”

  Lady Rebecca simply nodded, and Lucas took his leave in search of Meyer.

  He found his target conversing with the Earl of Lisness. Lucas had only met the chap once, and had disregarded him as a rather boring fellow with his overly curly hair and stodgy personality. So he rather considered himself doing a good deed in saving Meyer from the conversation. He nodded to the gentlemen, and waited till he had Meyer’s attention. “If you wouldn’t mind?” He gestured to the side.

  Meyer agreed quickly and excused himself from the conversation rapidly.

  “You’re quite welcome.” Lucas smirked as Meyer fell into step beside him. Meyer shot him a curious glance that shifted slightly into chagrin. “It would appear you are acquainted with Lord Lisness.”

  “Barely, which is more than is necessary to develop an opinion,” Lucas replied honestly. “Now then, I’ve an inquiry.”

  “After the information you’ve disclosed this eve, I find myself quite in your debt. How may I assist?” Meyer inquired with a sincere gaze.

  “Lady Re
becca seemed to be of the mind that if you were to attempt corresponding with Lady Liliah, it would be a permissible avenue of contact,” Lucas explained neatly, making sure to drop Lady Rebecca’s name, hoping to smooth over the slightly scandalous edge to his request.

  Meyer’s brow pinched. “It is indeed likely.”

  “Brilliant.” Lucas nodded. “Would you mind requesting she take a stroll in Hyde Park, around four tomorrow?”

  Meyer studied Lucas. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Because if I were to come and call upon her, her father would not only disapprove, but the tyrant would likely blame Liliah, creating worse problems,” Lucas articulated, frustrated that he should have to spell out his thoughts so plainly. Damn, it was difficult to persuade people to go along with a plan. It was so much easier to work with Heathcliff, or even Ramsey—at least they were usually of the same mind in situations.

  He tamped back his impatient nature and waited for Meyer.

  “And your intentions?” Meyer asked quietly, glancing about to make sure their conversation was private.

  “Are private, and none of your concern. But I assure you, the same way I assured your lady friend, I have no desire to bring about harm to the lady in question or her reputation.”

  Meyer twisted his lips as if considering Lucas’s words, weighing them. “I hesitate, I must admit. This goes against my moral obligations.”

  Lucas swallowed his frustration. He wanted to hang both Meyer and his bloody moral obligations, but it wouldn’t help his case, so he held his peace. “But?” he encouraged, waiting.

  “But I see Liliah’s delight when she is with you, so for her sake, I’ll do it,” he answered.

  Lucas nodded, then held out his hand to Meyer. After a firm shake, he grinned. “Thank you.”

  Meyer acknowledged his words with a curt nod, and with a slight bow, took his leave.

  Lucas strode away in search of Heathcliff. Since Liliah was no longer in attendance, he had no reason to tolerate the rest of the ton’s company. Furthermore, he found last night’s lack of sleep was catching up with him. Tomorrow promised to be a delightful day.

  Four in the afternoon couldn’t come quickly enough.

  Chapter Twenty-three