Falling from His Grace

by Kristin Vayden

  “I jest,” Liliah replied with a soft laugh. “Honesty is something I prize, so how could I neglect to use it myself? It would be hypocrisy of the worst sort. No, I’m much too honest and forthright for any sort of deception—in conversation,” she added belatedly.

  Lucas shook his head, immediately reminded of her grand deception that had led to their acquaintance.

  Who would have imagined?

  Either the Fates were cruel or brilliant. He wasn’t quite certain which.

  “So what brings you out and about today?” Liliah asked as they took the path that circled the Serpentine. She nodded gently to a passing person, someone Lucas faintly recognized, then dismissed.

  “I’m simply taking the air. And what of you? What brings you out of doors?” Lucas flickered his gaze behind them, arching a brow.

  “I was to meet a friend, but I don’t think he was able to make the arrangement,” Liliah answered neatly, her eyes sparkling with understanding. “However, in retrospect, I should have expected as much, since he was less than forthright in his correspondence.”

  “I’m more than happy to take your friend’s place and enjoy your lovely company.”

  “How fortuitous,” Liliah replied.

  They walked on in silence for a few moments, and Lucas took the opportunity to ponder several plans for extricating Liliah from her chaperones.

  Yet with each plan he devised, he couldn’t help but reflect on the resulting punishment that Liliah could face at the end of their folly. In short, he decided he had no other option but to enjoy her chaperoned company and find another way to steal private moments at a different time. His body agonized at the delay in gratification, yet he could see no other option.

  Not without resulting in punishment or pain for the lady in question.

  And damn it all, that was enough to alter his plans.

  He tried not to consider what that could mean, so he pushed the dark thought into the back of his mind and instead focused on the beauty on his arm.

  “Will you attend the Morrison ball tomorrow night?” he asked.

  Liliah colored softly, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue that was reminiscent of when she’d gazed at him after their entanglement. His body hardened at the thought, his blood pumping with a persuasive demand for an immediate repeat performance. He sucked in a fortifying breath as he waited for her answer.

  “Indeed I am planning to attend. Will you be there as well?” she asked.

  “And miss an opportunity to step on your toes? I think not,” he teased.

  “Ha! Then I shall look forward to seeing you then. And will your friend attend as well? Viscount Kilpatrick?”

  “If I can talk him into it.”

  “I doubt it is so very difficult. He seems to enjoy society.”

  Lucas gave a scoffing laugh. “In part,” he answered cryptically.

  They came back to the point in the path where they had begun their loop, and he sensed the hesitancy, the expectation of saying adieu. In response, he placed his hand over her arm. “I’m truly enjoying the fresh air. Would you care to find a spot under the trees to observe nature?” He almost rolled his eyes at his request. Surely he could have come up with a more intelligent option. He reflected back to when Heathcliff asked if he even knew how to make love anymore. While that skill was in top performance, his art of flirtation was lacking, he decided.

  But why practice flirtation when there was no need for innuendo? Flirtation was an art, one that used manipulations, hidden meanings, and veiled seduction—all things for which he had no use and, clearly, didn’t know how to use well.

  Yet Liliah took pity on his sad efforts and readily accepted. He selected a bench below a beech tree that overlooked the Serpentine and a length of path that would supply them with fresh faces about which to converse and reflect. As he took a seat beside Liliah, he noted the steadfast surveillance of the footman and the apparent unease of the maid who chaperoned. Liliah followed his gaze and he noted that her shoulders straightened as she turned her focus to the footman.

  “Fredrick, please give me a greater span of space. I’m not going to run away from you, and I dare say if I tried you could easily catch up—or are you so frail that you think me able to best you?” she added with just a slight taunt to her tone.

  It worked, and Fredrick reluctantly took several steps back. The maid’s body lost its rigid posture and she clasped her hands before her, relaxing.

  “There, much better,” Liliah replied, turning to Lucas. “It’s quite irksome.”

  “I can’t imagine,” he replied, then asked the question that was on the forefront of his mind, grateful for a measure of privacy. In a low tone, he whispered, “I was quite . . . surprised at your hasty departure last night. I’m quite certain it wasn’t your expectation to leave so suddenly?” He studied her expression for any clues.

  Liliah’s smile faltered and turned into a pinched expression, and he readily noticed her irritation.

  “It was indeed unexpected,” she answered. “Yet in hindsight I can see that it should not have been wholly surprising.”

  Lucas hesitated, not sure how to frame the question without being overly direct. He decided to hang the propriety, and asked in frank honesty, “Was he harsh with you?”

  Liliah’s gaze fell to her lap. “Angry, yes. Yet I found that his words only hold power if I allow them to, which I’ve chosen to not tolerate.”

  “I see. And it was in direct response to my dancing with you.”

  She gave a slight nod. “But should I stand up with anyone save Meyer, he would have the same reaction. Therefore, it is of no consequence. I’ve already made my decision on the matter and am allowing myself the freedom of that decision.”

  Lucas frowned slightly. “What have you decided?” He suspected several things, yet he found his curious nature held him firmly in hand as he waited for confirmation—even as his stomach clenched in frustration, and dare he admit it?—Dread.

  Liliah glanced to where Fredrick waited several paces away, intently staring at their shared bench. When she turned her gaze back to Lucas, she simply shrugged. “Perhaps another time.”

  Lucas nodded once, accepting her response, yet he vowed that soon he would uncover the truth of the matter.

  “I’d best head home, as much as I am loath to admit it,” Liliah remarked with a mournful edge to her tone. “But I must say, it has been an utter delight to . . . run into you. Fate is kind indeed.” She stood and gave a soft smile.

  Lucas stood as well, also loath to lose her company yet understanding the wisdom of her ending the assignation. “The pleasure was all mine.” He reached for her hand and kissed her wrist ever so delicately, inhaling the fresh scent of her, conjuring up all sorts of other memories he’d rather repeat than simply remember.

  “Until tomorrow,” Liliah whispered, as if afraid her guardian would hear.

  “Far too long,” Lucas whispered seductively, allowing his gaze to rake over her body, greedily savoring each delicious curve.

  When his gaze returned to her face, he grinned at the blush his hungry perusal of her figure had enticed, and he gave a wink.

  Liliah shook her head and he released her hand.

  “Come along.” She glanced back to her maid and footman, and Lucas had the fleeting vision of her calling her dog to follow—and it was probably closer to the truth than was humorous.

  As she walked away, he tucked his hands behind his body and watched her till she was out of sight; not missing the footman’s suspicious glances as he accompanied her. Lucas only hoped that her father didn’t suspect that Meyer had helped create the ruse.

  With a reluctant sigh, he decided to look forward to tomorrow, and a renewed opportunity to steal Liliah away.

  Even if it was for only a few moments.

  Pleasure was the greatest temptation of all—and time seemed always at war with it.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The duke had asked for his daughter to join him the moment sh
e arrived home, and so Liliah was quickly escorted to his study.

  “You were away quite long for your intended to be unable to accompany you,” he said by way of greeting.

  Liliah took a deep breath and finished walking into the study, noting that the footman no longer lingered behind and had closed the door, leaving her alone with her father.

  Delight of all delights.

  “It is a beautiful day. I’m not going to squander it just because Meyer had different plans.”

  “This arrived only a quarter hour after you departed.” Her father lifted a missive from his broad desk, studying her with his cool eyes. She had the impression that it was how men at the war office studied people accused of espionage.

  “And what excuse did my friend give?” she asked innocently.

  Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Your betrothed stated that business came up and he had to attend to it.”

  Liliah nodded once, unsure as to the problem her father seemed to see in the situation. Yet suspicion was always in the back of his mind, so she resolved to wait it out, offer no information and await his questions, or dismissal.

  “Have you nothing to say?” he asked, standing and setting the missive back on the wooden desktop.

  Liliah tilted her head slightly. “What do you wish me to discourse?”

  She met his gaze, trying to keep her expression innocent when she truly wanted to engage in a verbal spar—hang the fact she knew she’d lose.

  Her father tapped the desk impatiently with one hand. “Fredrick!” he called out. The door opened almost immediately, as if dear Fredrick had been awaiting his summons.

  Liliah grew more wary as Fredrick walked in and stood before her father with a gracious bow.

  “What did you observe this afternoon?” the duke asked, arching a gray brow of inquiry.

  Fredrick straightened, as if addressing some officer in the ranks. His tone was clipped and precise, his understanding far more shrewd than Liliah had anticipated.

  “The lady took the path beside the Serpentine just as the letter requested, but upon her arrival there was no sign of the Baron of Scoffield, only the Earl of Heightfield, who appeared to be awaiting her arrival.” Fredrick paused.

  The duke’s gaze narrowed. “And how are you sure that Heightfield was awaiting her arrival?”

  “He alighted from his carriage the moment we came into view, then took a circumspect route that would intersect with the lady’s.”

  “I see.” The duke nodded, his steely gaze sliding over to Liliah, then back to Fredrick. “Did my daughter engage in conversation with the earl?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how long did they continue their interlude?” her father asked, casting an accusing glare at Liliah.

  “The majority of the time we were in the park, Your Grace,” Fredrick answered.

  “And were they ever out of your sight?” the duke asked, taking several steps toward his footman.

  “No, Your Grace. They were always within a few steps.”

  “Very good, you’ve done your job well, Fredrick. You’re dismissed.”

  Fredrick didn’t even spare a glance to Liliah as he quickly quit the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Liliah watched her father, curious as to what line of offense he’d take. It was a public park, and while Fredrick suspected a planned meeting, it could have been by chance. Suspicions didn’t prove points; however, she wasn’t certain her father would feel the same way.

  “Liliah.” Her father spoke forcefully.

  She tipped her head slightly, acknowledging his address.

  “It would seem that you’re either stubborn beyond rational intelligence, or you were the prey in a grand scheme to ruin your reputation.” He took a deep breath, then slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ll have to address this incident with the Earl of Greywick. It would seem his son is of the rather vulgar variety, and trying to dissolve the betrothal by sullying your reputation. It cannot be borne, and as such I will see that the earl deals heavily with his wayward son.” He spoke as if it caused him great pain.

  Liliah froze, processing his words. She was certain he knew it was her stubborn nature that created the ripe opportunity for such a meeting, yet for him to mark Meyer as the villain, even suggesting that he receive punishment, it was a twist she hadn’t expected.

  She wanted to claim responsibility, yet she held her tongue. She found herself at an impasse, because she knew enough of her father’s character—or lack thereof—to suspect that such a reaction on her part was exactly the goal he had in mind. It was a quandary, so she simply waited, even though it went against every fiber of her being.

  After a moment, her father addressed her. “Have you nothing to say? Is your betrothed deserving of the blame . . . or are you?” The force of his regard was so powerful it nearly made her blurt out the answer.

  Yet she held fast.

  “You may believe that which you wish to believe. I’ve learned that it is not for me to involve myself in your affairs,” she answered submissively, trying to play the game.

  But the problem with playing any game was that usually those who made them up were also the only ones aware of the rules.

  It was a risk, yet she took it willingly. She resisted the urge to hold her breath, and waited.

  “I don’t know if you’re actually learning some discretion or if you’re simply a conniving woman. Regardless, I’ll find out the truth of the matter. You’re dismissed.”

  Liliah curtseyed low, and forced herself to take sedate steps from the room and down the hall. It wasn’t until she reached her room that she finally relaxed and sighed a deep breath of relief. She wasn’t sure what avenue her father would take, but she was certain that he was just as confused.

  Hopefully.

  Only time would tell.

  And time was always the enemy.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Lucas wasn’t sure if he was surprised by the summons, or if he was subconsciously expecting it. Regardless, his curiosity must be satisfied, and to see the inside of Liliah’s estate was an opportunity he couldn’t miss. It was the day of the Morrison ball, and as such he eagerly anticipated seeing Liliah once again.

  Bloody hell, he was becoming everything he swore he’d never be again. It was humbling and irritating to think that he was so weak to fall for a woman’s charms once again.

  Yet he assured himself that Liliah wasn’t just a woman, she was far more, and in that lay the danger.

  But like a moth drawn to the flickering flame, he was helpless to resist the draw toward her, and he found he wasn’t exactly inclined to struggle against the temptation either.

  With a tug on his shirt cuffs, he strode from his room to his awaiting carriage in front of his home.

  Hopefully it would be a short meeting, since he was scheduled to speak with Heathcliff before the ball. There was some pressing business with the club. With their annual silver masquerade event coming up within the week, one of their larger events, several details needed attending to.

  He stepped into his black carriage and the driver snapped the ribbons, causing the four blood bays to spring into action. Lucas adjusted his seat at the movement, and watched the stately homes as the carriage passed by.

  It wasn’t a long journey to the duke’s residence at Whitefield House, but it was enough time to give him the opportunity to think about which topics the man might wish to discourse. He was certain that Liliah was the primary topic of interest, yet what avenue did he wish to explore? Certainly he knew that any warnings against Lucas’s interest in his daughter wouldn’t hold any weight. But could the arrogant nature of a man such as the Duke of Chatterwood truly be questioned? No. He decided that the man probably was accustomed to using his title and power to contrive whatever result served him best. He certainly had acted that way in the past, and Lucas had no reason to believe the man had changed at all.

  As they approached the estate, he wondered fleetingly if Liliah knew of this
meeting, or if she had been kept in the dark about it. As he stepped from the carriage he studied the stately house. Built of white stone, the estate looked royal and bespoke of the wealth of the owner. Red and blue decorated the entrance, the colors of Chatterwood’s dukedom, and Lucas smirked at the ostentatious décor. The butler allowed him entrance, merely stating that the duke was awaiting his arrival, and as Lucas followed him down the wide hall, he scanned his surroundings and dismissed them as just as overstated as their owner.

  When they approached a large wooden door that was slightly ajar, Lucas waited while the butler reached for the brass handle. As it swung open slowly, Lucas took a deep breath and suppressed a grin of eager anticipation. For this was one arena where, while the duke surely felt he was in control, Lucas knew he was anything but. Rather, Lucas expected to toy a little with the man, but he was also resolved to hold his tongue before he provoked him to the point of taking out any anger on his daughter. Lucas was all too aware of the man’s temper, and he wasn’t willing to gamble with that temper being unleashed on Liliah. So it was with eager and cautious energy that he strode into the room as he was announced.

  “Heightfield.” The duke nodded once as he stood beside his desk, one hand splayed against the wood as he leaned against it.

  “Your Grace.” Lucas bowed slightly. “To what do I owe the honor?” He kept a careless manner as he walked into the room. It was quite amusing to see the tick start in Chatterwood’s eye as he watched his approach.

  “There is nothing pleasurable about this meeting,” Chatterwood said.

  “Ah, and here I thought we were burying the hatchet and all that.” Lucas shrugged, then placed his hands on the back of a chair, facing the duke.

  “Not likely,” the duke replied, scoffing.

  “Hope springs eternal.” Lucas gave a dismissive wave. “What then did you have in mind? I daresay that there’s such a long list of grievances you and I could both name, that we might be here for a week.”

  The duke’s frown deepened. “What aspect of my integrity or character do you wish to malign this time? A week’s worth? To outline your faults we would need the rest of our natural lives. Yet, thankfully, I’m not inclined to wax poetic on all the ways you’re a menace to society. Rather, I’m going to keep this short and direct. Stay the hell away from my daughter.”