You have it better than many women. Here at least you and your baby are safe. No one will find you here.
The coastal boat smelled better than a fishing boat, but its company proved less savory. The boat stopped frequently, in and out of small coves, picking up packages and people.
Richard acquired a black eye before he arrived in Constantinople. He lost a shirt, a flagon of rum, and all of his money. He found freedom. For the first time in his life, the burden of responsibility and expectations lifted, leaving him with no cares but his own desires.
Lying on his back one night, he studied the endless stars and wondered if Lily watched them, too. It came to him then that he might love her. What else would explain this madness?
He began to laugh. You always said love belonged to fools, and you’ve become one. He laughed out loud until a fellow traveler threatened to blacken his other eye.
But love? he wondered, suddenly sober. I never believed in it. I want her. I want her so badly I offered marriage twice, even after she threw it in my face. That ought to be an end to it.
He closed his eyes and tried to let the rocking of the boat lull him to sleep. Why can’t she accept that I care what happens to her? Isn’t that enough? He drifted to sleep knowing he would never understand women.
The boat put in to the foreign section of Constantinople, a blessing but a minor one. Crowds of peddlers thronged new arrivals in front of the colorful walls of old fountains and new mansions. The place seethed with humanity. A half dozen languages assaulted his ears at the same time; odors new and painfully familiar assaulted his nose; a confusing knot of narrow lanes, fanned out in several directions, assaulted his vision.
Did Lily pass through here? Proper ladies would put handkerchief to nose and demand immediate transport to a “good” (by which they meant European) house immediately. Lily would revel in this; she would refuse to hurry until she absorbed her fill. A wide grin stretched his dry lips. When we’re married, I’ll bring her here.
For now he had business. He asked directions to the British embassy. After two false starts and a long detour, compliments of a fig vendor with a particularly nasty sense of humor, he walked up to the British embassy.
A rail-thin boy in soft cotton trousers and hemp sandals stopped his systematic sweep of the steps to look at Richard with narrowed eyes.
“No beggars,” the boy said firmly. He returned to his work.
“I’m not a beggar!” Richard bit back the impulse to announce his name and title. This savvy little laborer had taken in his appearance; he would laugh at some shabby beggar claiming to be a marquess.
“You Englishman?” the boy asked.
“I am.”
“Office by side. His M’jesty’s subjects get help there.”
Well. A marquess is certainly a subject of the king. The boy’s exercise of pompous authority amused him.
“Do you think I could get help?” he asked.
The boy appeared to think it over. “Possible,” he said at last. “No beggars though.”
The warning had teeth. When he tried his luck at the office, the clerks were equally unimpressed. Richard finally insisted that he knew Sir Robert Liston emphatically enough that a skeptical young man agreed to send a message to the ambassador.
Thirty minutes later the man himself arrived, hurried and annoyed. “Who the devil claims—Glenaire!” He stared at Richard in open-mouthed astonishment.
Richard rose, chin high, with as much aristocratic presence as he could muster in a stained shirt and undersized trousers.
“Sir Robert,” he said, “I need your assistance.”
Liston’s eyes roamed over Richard. His wrinkled nose and pained expression left no doubt about his opinion of the marquess’s appearance.
“Come then. We’ll see if we can find you a tailor,” he said, glancing back to see if Richard followed. “And then we’re at your service. This must be a tale worth hearing.”
“With all due respect, my errand is urgent,” Richard said, coming up beside him. “I need access to the Seraglio.”
Liston turned on his heels. “The Seraglio? All due respect to you,” he retorted, “but no foreigner has access to the Seraglio. No one. Ever. Under any circumstances.”
“There is a woman there, and Englishwoman,” Richard told him.
“An Englishwoman?” Liston asked, astonished. “Who on earth?”
“It’s a long story,” Richard said, continuing up the stairs. The woman must be Lily. I have to be sure. I’ll see her if I have to batter down the walls of the damned Seraglio myself.
Chapter 24
A different Sahin Pasha than the sophisticate who had graced London’s ballrooms in the spring greeted Richard and Robert Liston. Clad in oriental splendor, he reclined on cushions in bright silken patterns surrounded by silk-clad servants.
“Welcome, Sir Robert. I see you bring my friend the marquess,” he said with no attempt to hide the amusement that crinkled his eyes.
The old reprobate! No amusement softened Richard’s bitterness. “Where’s Lily?” He demanded.
Sahin gestured to the seats near him. “Such manners, my lord! Come. Sit. Eat.”
Liston reclined on a divan to Sahin’s left. Richard remained standing. He looked around desperately.
“I sat on your uncomfortable English chairs all spring. Come, come. Sit in comfort.”
Liston shot Richard a pleading look. He sank down onto the seat to Sahin’s right.
“Where is Lily?” he repeated through clenched teeth.
At Sahin’s gesture, platters of dates and honeyed sweets appeared alongside a pot of steaming Turkish coffee. The ringed fingers of a servant poured the drink into tiny glasses and faded away.
Sahin and Liston drank. Richard took a sip and grimaced.
“You will adjust,” Sahin chuckled. “Eat some baklava, sweet to counteract the bitter.”
“Lily,” Richard prodded before taking a bite as directed. His eyes widened when the taste of honey exploded in his mouth.
“Such intensity! You should have protected her, My Lord Glenaire.”
“We had her under protection!” Richard snapped.
“Yet she came to me for assistance. Who can probe the mind of a woman?” Sahin mused.
“Is there a story here I should hear?” Liston asked.
Sahin gave him a succinct overview of Volkov’s threats.
“I’ve come from Thessaloniki. You dealt with your traitor ruthlessly—”
Sahin shrugged. “It is always so with traitors.”
“—putting John Thornton in danger, not to mention Lily herself.”
“You understand, Sir Robert, why I felt obliged to offer the woman protection when she sought employment in the Seraglio.”
Damned poor choice of words. Visions of Lily entertaining the old man made Richard sick. He set his tea down with a thump. “What do you mean by ‘protection,’ and what exactly is Lily’s ‘employment’ there?” he demanded.
“Your tone implies insult, my lord,” Sahin replied hotly, his benign façade slipping briefly to allow the hard core underneath full view. In the flicker of an eye, the avuncular diplomat came back into focus. “In spite of your western stereotypes about our domestic arrangements, she is perfectly safe. She shares the riches of her mind with the women of the Seraglio.”
“She’s a teacher?” Liston asked, obviously intrigued. Richard, for his part, simply gasped, incredulous.
“Exactly.” Sahin beamed. “By all accounts, an excellent one. My aunt, the Valide Sultan, is well pleased. She begins to have plans for Miss Thornton.”
“The Valide Sultan is a powerful figure, Glenaire,” Liston said. “The mother of the sultan, a woman of influence.”
“Alas the current sover
eign’s mother is no longer with us. The position is held by his aunt, who by chance is also mine,” Sahin told them. “I assure you, Miss Thornton could not be in a safer place.”
“I demand to see her.”
“Demand? Such a harsh word. Where is the Marble Marquess’s famous sang-froid? His vaunted diplomacy so much in evidence last spring?”
Richard clamped his jaw shut.
“Can a meeting be arranged?” Liston asked.
“Do you expect me to believe you can’t arrange whatever you please,” Richard cut in. “I will see her at the British embassy.” I want her where I can protect her.
Sahin ignored Richard. He answered Liston. “What we can arrange and what Miss Thornton may want may not be the same.” He turned to Richard, all pretense of friendliness gone. “There are audience rooms attached to the outer walls of the Seraglio that may be safe. The streets of this city, alas, are not. Whether Miss Thornton wishes to risk either is up to her.”
“Are you telling me she won’t see me?” Richard rose halfway from his seat. Liston cautioned him back with pained looks and a subtle hand gesture.
“Speak with Miss Thornton,” Liston said smoothly. “Tell her that, while His Majesty’s government trusts that the Sublime Porte treats her with all due respect and provides ample protection, concern for her welfare demands that we speak to her ourselves.” He held Sahin Pasha’s eyes.
Richard held his breath. The two other men ignored him. Sahin Pasha broke the gaze first.
“As you wish, Sir Robert. I will ask Miss Thornton to indulge you in this.”
Richard felt his shoulders relax. He took a deep breath.
“Whether she wishes to see his lordship,” Sahin went on, indicating Richard with a shrug, “is for her to determine.” He looked over at Richard with stern disapproval.
Richard nodded in response.
In a flash, a sly look supplanted the disapproval. “Although such a meeting might prove entertaining at that.”
What the devil does that old man mean by that salvo? Richard didn’t care. We’ll see who’s amused after I talk with her.
Lily fretted in yet another anteroom. Word came that Sahin Pasha again requested an interview. The Valide Sultan professed to know nothing. This time, however, the woman left her as soon as they arrived in this anteroom. Ahmet, stern beneath his turban, stood next to her. He spoke no words of encouragement.
She smiled up at him; his expression did not soften. His worried face does little for my peace of mind.
She had been called to a room on the outer walls this time, the sort she knew opened out into the public parts of the palace. She puzzled over the meaning of such a venue but ceased trying. You’ve become immersed in palace politics, Lily. You try to parse the meaning of every little detail, looking for machinations that might not exist.
Lily glanced down ruefully at her enlarged belly. At just over six months, she had begun to feel unwieldy. What do you think Sahin up to now, little one, hmm? He does not seem to leave us in peace.
The door whispered open, and a female slave bowed out. Lily entered an audience room, much like any other. The only obvious difference was that, this time, Sahin Pasha stood just inside waiting for her, blocking her view of the room. No obvious signs of ritual hospitality were in view.
He stepped forward and took both of her hands.
“You look well, little one. Your situation agrees with you.” He winked at her.
My “situation?” That’s one word for it.
“What is it, honored uncle? Word about my father?” she asked.
“I fear not, little one. Your government believes him safe with his studies in Copenhagen still.”
She studied his face. Something lurked behind his kindness. Sahin dropped one of her hands but held the other.
“Your government, regretfully, feels less certain about your well-being. They have made inquiries.”
Lily felt sick. Sahin, who blocked her view of the room, moved to her side, still holding one hand. Her heart soared and did a flip. Richard.
A vortex of thought and emotion surged through her. He came! Confusion followed elation. How? When? He’s thin. His hair is too long. He looks—
Blue eyes, wide with shock, stared back at her. Richard stood immobile, his face frozen in stunned disbelief.
She swung round to face Sahin. The old man’s lips twitched; sly amusement lit his eyes. You manipulative old man! You let me walk into this with no warning. Richard, too, from the look of it.
When she looked back, Richard had not moved. His eyes had lost the glaze of shock, however. What she saw instead shook her to her core.
Still as a statue, he gaped, grief and longing stark on his face.
“Richard, I—” He must hate me.
His eyes moved from her face to the swelling where her child—his child—grew.
He can’t take my baby, can he? Dear God, don’t let him take her.
Chapter 25
One by one, pieces fell into place, and, like boulders, flattened Richard’s dearly held belief in his own intelligence. The man who helped England side step the hidden traps of enemies and allies alike at the Congress of Vienna had missed the obvious.
Lily is pregnant. He couldn’t take his eyes from the swelling beneath her gown. Very pregnant.
He pulled his eyes to her face. Terror stared back. She should be worried; she made a fool of me. I ought to be enraged. Wonder, worry, and a surge of joy so great it threatened to upend him pushed all other emotions aside. He held his hands behind his back to still their shaking.
“Lily,” he began, utterly at sea. Nothing in his experience prepared him for the most delicate negotiations he had ever conducted. He swallowed hard. “We need to talk.”
She didn’t respond; her anguished look didn’t alter.
“Talk is needed,” Sahin Pasha agreed. He pulled Lily’s hand forward. She stumbled a step or two toward Richard.
“Sahin Pasha, may I have a moment alone with Miss Thornton?”
“One is never alone here,” Sahin said sadly, “but I will remove myself from the room. Perhaps Sir Robert may join me.” He raised a questioning eyebrow, but Robert Liston had already walked toward the door.
Sahin gave Lily’s hand one more tug. “Talk, little one, and listen to this man. Be a sensible girl. You will be safe.” He nodded at the eunuch who had followed Lily and now stood silent and disapproving from his place against the wall.
“Good grief, I’m not going to harm her!” Richard exclaimed. Sahin Pasha’s guard remained.
“Ten minutes, my lord,” Sahin said and departed.
Richard ran his hand across the back of his neck. Ten minutes? Where to start?
“Lily when—that is, I know when, but why didn’t you tell me?” He thought rapidly. Five months? Six? More? His brain refused to calculate the time.
“You can’t have her!” Lily burst out. She looked frantic.
“What are you talking about?”
“You can’t take my baby.”
“What do you take me for? Do you think I’m some kind of monster that would separate a mother from her child?”
“Isn’t that what your lot does? Hide indiscretion away?” She sounded desperate. “I’ve done it for you. Leave me here and—”
“My son will not grow up in some heathen harem!”
“My daughter will be perfectly well with me, and these people are more compassionate and civilized than your London society.”
“My society? You were comfortable enough in London six months ago.” Dear God. She fainted at Georgiana’s. She must have known even then.
She wouldn’t look at him. He watched her wrap her arms protectively around her belly.
“Did he just move?” He did; my
son moved. I saw it. He couldn’t breathe.
“She did,” Lily looked up with a sad smile.
He walked close, fascinated, and grateful she didn’t pull away. He put out a hand, and the guard pushed away from the wall.
Lily reassured the man with a simple gesture.
“May I touch?
She bit her lip. For a moment he felt certain she would deny him. She nodded instead.
He reached gingerly for the place he saw movement without taking his eyes off Lily’s face, watching for signs she would change her mind. His hand came to rest on silk over a hard, smooth curve.
Too absorbed to think even of Lily, he froze in place. A flutter rewarded his attention and then another. Just before he would have pulled his hand back, a movement so strong he could see it vibrated against his fingers.
“A kick!” He looked up at her then to share his joy and saw only wariness. He jerked his hand back.
“Why Lily? Why didn’t you come to me as you should?”
“As you ordered me to? I told you at Chadbourn Park I would manage myself whatever the consequences,” she reminded him.
“Even if you didn’t want marriage, I would have taken care of you.”
“Pushed me into some cottage as far from London as you could manage—kept us there far from prying eyes? You will forgive me for choosing not to be your shameful secret. This is better. In a few years, I can return home a widow with child, and no one need gossip about the Marble Marquess.”
Dangerous Weakness Page 16