“Are you afraid it will change how I feel, or my decision?” she asked cautiously.
Lucas chuckled, but it held no mirth. “No, but that could simply be my arrogant pride speaking. The tale has more to do with your father . . . than I.”
Liliah tipped her head, her mind spinning with the various implications, and she leaned forward in her seat.
“Around six years ago I was married to Lady Catherine Blymont. She was a ward of Lord and Lady Barrot, with whom I’ve had a longstanding relationship. The marriage was a suitable arrangement for both of us financially, and I expected us to get along quite well. I realize now how blind I was, but it is of no consequence now.” He took a deep breath.
Liliah shivered, premonition stealing her warmth. Even the nearby fire wasn’t enough to ward off the chill.
“I was quite happy with Catherine as my wife. But she was far more social than I, and grew increasingly spiteful of her station as an antisocial earl’s wife, so began attending parties alone. To make a longer story shorter, she commenced an affair that led to a pregnancy. She was quite convinced of the gentleman’s affection, and was quite forthright about her intentions to divorce me and find her happiness with another—damn the consequences to her social status. This blatant disregard for her social standing is what never made sense, till later.” He leaned forward, folding his hands on his knees.
Liliah waited, the sound of the crackling fire overly loud in the anticipation-filled room. Yet a moment later, her thoughts filtered into place, creating a startling realization. “A woman who cherished social standing so deeply wouldn’t risk the grievance of a divorce unless the reward was more than ample recompense.”
“Exactly.” Lucas nodded, approval glowing in his eyes. “The man in question was already married, with two daughters within a few years of a come-out. Turns out the man was sorely out of spirits with his current wife for never producing a son, and the thought of marrying off daughters was made even less palatable by the fact that he would be unable to marry them off if his indiscretion was known.”
“Dear Lord,” Liliah remarked. “It makes so much sense.” She flipped through the memories of the events to just before her mother’s death. She had never understood why her father had been so hard-hearted, almost incensed at her mother’s death. “My mother died four years ago.” She blinked back tears.
“It was less than a year after your father ended his relationship with Catherine. She died in a rather freak carriage accident not three weeks after the abrupt end.”
Liliah shook her head. “He likely harbors some misbegotten anger toward my mother for not dying sooner. It explains much. But does not excuse any of it.”
“Your mother’s death would have rectified the mess he had created, had it been earlier, yes. But I rather think he resents not only your mother, but you two daughters as well.”
“I’ve known that for some time. Mother protected us from it till she caught pneumonia.” Liliah sighed, then her thoughts turned to Samantha. “My sister! My father already spoke of an arrangement for her marriage and—”
“Yes, I know. I learned of it tonight. And I’ve been thinking on that front . . . and have an idea.” Lucas arched a brow. “But it would require the utmost secrecy. But let us finish this vein of thought first before we move on to the next. I have reason to believe that Lord Greywick knows something of Catherine’s indiscretion and perhaps even the carriage accident. With that, I think he is blackmailing your father to secure your dowry for his estate.”
Liliah frowned. “My dowry? I didn’t take Greywick as a fortune hunter for his son.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. And Greywick’s estate is bordering on poverty. He used his information to secure the best source of income available, and the most legal. A duke’s daughter.”
Liliah’s eyes widened, then she frowned. “But why then, would he not allow Meyer to seek Rebecca’s hand? They are quite secure—”
“Her family suffered a large loss recently.”
“Dear Lord. Am I nothing but a pawn?” Liliah’s chest heaved in anger and she pushed off from her chair and paced about the room, fuming. “How dare he, how dare Lord Greywick! Damn them all!” She all but shouted, then covered her mouth and glanced toward the door. Her heart pounded fiercely for several moments at her loud outburst, and then she flickered her gaze to Lucas.
“Well, how do we stop this?”
Lucas bit back an amused grin. “You’re quite fetching when angry, my love.”
“Focus, Luc,” Liliah ground out.
He chuckled, then sobered as he continued. “They are going to secure a special license to make the . . . transaction quicker. Greywick is anxious to get ahold of your dowry, and your father is anxious to destroy any damning evidence.”
“So . . . how do we eliminate the problem?”
Lucas grinned, then withdrew a piece of paper from his coat pocket and unfolded it. “We beat them at their own game.”
Liliah walked toward it, her eyes slowly taking in the script across the top.
Doctors’ Common.
It was a special license.
“I suppose you’ll say that I didn’t specify when you’d marry me . . .” he teased.
Liliah grinned, caressing lightly the important document that would both set her free and secure her future. “Yes, but under the circumstances, I’m willing to make an exception.”
“Brilliant.” He folded up the document and tucked it away. “For this to work, I need to make several arrangements, one of which is for your sister. Can you convince her to write something for me? I need a letter, something that mentions her running away to . . . the Americas. That should be difficult enough. Have you any connections there?”
Liliah nodded slowly. “My mother has a cousin who lives in Boston.”
“Then fabricate a story. We need your father thinking that Savannah is on her way to Boston, and I shall take care of the rest.” He stood. “Do you trust me?”
Liliah nodded. “Yes.”
“Then all will be well. Bring the letter tomorrow to Bond Street. Do you think you can make that happen?”
Liliah nodded. “Yes, I have to check on the progress of my wedding dress. I have a fitting.”
“Seems we have all the luck then, my dear. I’ll find you. Be sure to take your sister,” he added.
“I will.” Liliah closed the distance between them. “Thank you. You were able to do what I thought was impossible.” She met his earnest gaze.
“It seems that love truly does make all things possible.” He hitched a shoulder.
“So . . .” She glanced down and intertwined her hands with his, his warmth creating a cocoon of peace over her soul. “You’re saying you love me?”
Luc chuckled. “I’m saying I really never had a choice. But yes, I love you, Liliah.” He sealed the words with a kiss, tender, sweet, and lingering. He pulled back as Liliah leaned in for more. His affectionate chuckle met her ears and she blinked her eyes open.
“If I engage in kissing you longer, I won’t have the strength to leave, and I must if I’m going to arrange everything by tomorrow. What time is your appointment?”
Liliah pouted, but answered, “One.”
“Brilliant. We should have sufficient time. And you’re of age, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“So you won’t stay?” Liliah asked brazenly, wanting to feel the security that she’d found in his arms.
“Not tonight, but every other night henceforth? Yes. Always yes.” He kissed her nose, then headed to the door.
“Good-bye.” Liliah offered a small wave.
“No, just see you in a few hours,” Lucas corrected and opened the door a crack. After a moment he slipped into the hallway, closing it once more.
As Liliah listened for any sounds, she shook her head, realizing she’d never asked him how he’d been able to sneak in.
And really, it didn’t matter how.
It only mattered that he h
ad.
Chapter Thirty-six
Lucas knocked on the door of Heathcliff’s residence at what surely his friend would call an ungodly hour, but there was no time to waste. The butler answered with cool reservation, and with the long established friendship between the men, didn’t inquire as to why Lucas was calling. His friend was less than amicable, but received Lucas nonetheless.
“Please tell me you have something of life-or-death importance, or please see yourself to the door,” Heathcliff muttered from his position behind his desk in his study. He had dark circles around his eyes and his beard was less than tidy. Never more had Heathcliff appeared more beast than man, save one time. Lucas thought of a previous time, and shuddered.
“I’m getting married today and I thought you’d wish to know.”
Heathcliff spit out the tea he’d just sipped and coughed.
“Good morning to you too.” Lucas withdrew a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed his sleeves where some tea had landed. He took a cautious step back from his glaring friend.
“Say wha’ now?” Heathcliff coughed a few more times and muttered a curse as he dabbed the papers on his desk with a linen napkin.
“Liliah and I are to be married today, I’ve a special license and all.”
“Well, if that doesn’t beat the day.” Heathcliff wiped down his beard with the same napkin. “Congratulations, you old dog!”
“Thank you.” Lucas nodded. “I’ve come hoping you can give me additional information on the situation with the duke and Catherine?” Lucas asked hopefully.
Heathcliff nodded. “It seems the lad who had, er, arranged the mishap with the carriage sang like a canary when one of Greywick’s hired men cornered him. Seems Greywick had suspicions of his own, and he filed away the information for use later. He knew of his precarious financial position a while ago, it would seem.”
“Interesting. He was quite patient,” Lucas added.
“And it almost paid off.”
“So he does have evidence.”
Heathcliff seesawed his hand. “Not the kind that would hold up in court, not against a duke. Truly the worst it could do would be to harm his reputation or create suspicion.”
Lucas nodded. “But with two daughters of an age to marry off, it was an easy way to rid himself of one daughter, and also eliminate any evidence against him.”
“Tidy it up all around. The lady’s dowry wouldn’t be missed from his coffers since it had been designated long ago, and he’d be killing two birds with one stone. Bastard,” Heathcliff swore.
“Indeed. Very well.”
“You’re quite nonsensical over this chit, aren’t you? Can’t say I envy you. Rotten mess, all of it,” Heathcliff replied cynically.
“Ah, yes, your sour grapes. How is the young ward you are so generously taking in?” Lucas asked, winding up for his next part of the plan—unbeknownst to his friend.
“A bloody nightmare. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a governess who doesn’t make me want to claw my eyes out? I’m not expecting to be around either her or the girl much, but I don’t want to slit my wrists when I am, if you catch my meaning.”
Lucas chuckled. “Then I bring you some great news.”
“You’ve found a way to remove me from guardianship?” Heathcliff asked hopefully.
“No. I found you a governess. She’s knowledgeable, well educated, and beautiful. But I need your word that you will not touch her . . . this is not the sort of help you take a tumble with, am I understood?”
“Look who is becoming all honorable!” Heathcliff chuckled. “Where is this untouchable governess?”
“I can’t tell you. But I can deliver her to your estate in Scotland within a week,” Lucas added quietly, as if imparting a secret.
“Why the secrecy?” Heathcliff asked suspiciously. “She some battered wife and I’ll be challenged to a duel for taking her in?”
“No, just a lady whose situation has recently changed, and she needs employment—proper employment,” Lucas added significantly.
Heathcliff nodded. “I see. She has experience?”
“Yes, of the best variety,” Lucas replied.
“Very well. What’s this mysterious governess’s name?” he asked.
Lucas paused, his mind going into overdrive. He hadn’t thought of an alias for Liliah’s sister.
“She has a name, hasn’t she?” Heathcliff asked.
“Miranda,” Lucas replied. “Miranda Smythe.”
Heathcliff arched a brow, surely questioning Lucas’s honesty, but he simply nodded. “I don’t want any more details. The less I know, the better. Just have the girl there so the ward is under some direction.”
“Very good.” Lucas nodded, rocking back on his heels. “And, one more matter of business.”
“Bloody hell, how much can one man do in a day?” Heathcliff grumbled.
“I need you to task Ramsey with overseeing the end-of-the-season masquerade. We often close for the duration of the winter, but I doubt I’ll be around for the last event—as I’ll be celebrating in a quite enthusiastic way with my wife.” He grinned wildly.
“Dear Lord. Very well. Anything else? A kingdom?”
“No, that will be all today.” Lucas nodded.
“I wish you luck, my friend. And keep in touch, if I don’t see you till the next season,” Heathcliff said with an earnest smile.
“Upon my word,” Lucas replied, then quit the room with a wide smile.
His to-do list had just grown significantly smaller.
He only hoped that Liliah could get her sister to write the letter.
And agree to the plan.
Only time would answer all the questions.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Liliah wiped her damp hands on her gown before tugging on her soft kid gloves. So far everything had gone according to plan. Her gaze flickered to the reticule she planned to carry to the modiste’s, and tucked inside was the letter her sister had written according to Luc’s specifications.
Samantha hadn’t been overly enthusiastic at the prospect of leaving her future to a man she didn’t know, but she had said that she trusted Liliah’s judgment. It was enough for her to agree to write the letter, all the while remarking that Samantha could easily choose to return home if need be.
Liliah didn’t believe her sister to have that option, but she was trusting Lucas to help Samantha understand. Liliah had explained their father’s plans and betrayals to Samantha. Samantha had been affronted, hurt, and yet at the same time, much like Liliah, she had seen how they all made sense in light of his current behavior.
It was nearing one, and Liliah stood from her vanity, lifted her reticule, and tucked it under her arm. She walked to the door and turned, facing her room, her sanctuary. It hurt to think that she would never see it again, yet the pain was minimal compared to the joy of having Lucas. She had tucked several small keepsakes and trinkets into her reticule as well, her pieces of home to take with her on her next adventure in life. With a curt nod, she opened the door and strode down the hall toward Samantha’s room. This was the rather difficult aspect of their escape. While Liliah was certain she could easily acquire all the things she might need, she wasn’t as sure about Samantha. Therefore, they had the logistical problem of packing some necessities in a small carpetbag. Liliah had taken the bag and set it under a bush behind the servants’ entrance of the estate, and hopefully would be able to grab it if they were slightly early to the carriage and decided to walk to the carriage house, rather than wait. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was the best she had. She was taking no risks. Should someone come upon them, she didn’t want to have to explain what she was doing.
As she knocked on Samantha’s door, she met her sister’s wide gaze. Both resolution and fear shone from within, but she was ready with her small reticule, also packed with small trinkets from her room, tucked under her arm.
Liliah grasped her hand and squeezed. “Ready?”
; Samantha gave a weak smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
As they started down the hall, a footman intercepted them, bowing smartly. “My ladies, His Grace wishes to speak with you in his study.”
Liliah’s heart picked up speed like a hummingbird’s wings, but she nodded sedately and squeezed Samantha’s hand.
They took the stairs and walked to the often visited study of their father, the duke. Liliah stepped forward and curtseyed. “Your Grace?”
“At last.” He grumbled impatiently. He glanced up from behind his desk and the missive he was writing. “I’ve spoken to Greywick and it seems Meyer is ever anxious to make you his bride—why I cannot imagine. However, it follows that you will be married by special license tomorrow, as long as Greywick is able to secure the license today. I assume by your reticule that you are going out?” He studied them suspiciously.
Liliah nodded, thankful she had the only excuse he would likely accept. “Yes, I have the final fitting for my wedding dress, and if it is all as it should be, it will be delivered later today.”
“Very good.” He dismissed Liliah.
“And you.” He turned his steely gaze to Samantha. “You will meet Lord Mayson tonight. He’s coming over for supper and will make you an offer you shall accept.”
Liliah bit her tongue, tasting the salty flavor of blood, but she kept her face impassive even in her extreme anger. He was the man she had assumed! How dare her father take away the opportunity for Samantha to experience a season, to know the joy of an offer from a man she could come to love, or at least respect? Lord Mayson was simply an easy arrangement for her father to make with as little effort as possible. It was horrid in every way.
“Of course,” Samantha replied, curtseying deeply. Liliah could see the slight tremble in her movements, but didn’t think their father would notice.
“Very good, you’re dismissed.” The duke turned back to his work and ignored the daughters he resented.
Liliah and Samantha quit the room, then took the hall to the front entrance of the manor. Liliah prayed the carriage was late in arriving so they could grab the carpet bag, but it was a futile hope. As they took the stairs outside, the carriage rolled up and dashed their expectations. Liliah turned an inquiring eye to Samantha, but her sister gave a small shake of her head.
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