“Aunt Beatrice,” Evelyn greeted, rising to her feet. “I’m afraid you caught me just as I was about to leave.”
“Nonsense, girl.” Aunt Beatrice flapped her back into her chair. “I won’t eat you. Although next time you collude to hide my very own niece from me, I’ll not be so considerate.”
Lily extracted herself from Aunt Beatrice’s grasp. “Mrs. Jenkins, would you be so kind as to send for Lord Perth? Thank you.”
She led her aunt to a comfortable sofa, then hurried over to Evelyn. “She’ll forgive you soon. After all,” Lily said, teasing a smile out of her friend, “you ended with a duke.”
For all Kelan being an earl, Aunt Beatrice didn’t cower from chastising him as soon as the introductions were out of the way.
“My dear man, I may be an old woman, but that’s not to say I have no notion of young love.” She peered up at him from her heavy, wrinkled brow. “That is absolutely no reason, however, to deprive a lady of her wedding feast.”
“You have no argument from me there, Lady Beatrice.” Kelan ran a finger along the inside of his collar. “It was an impetuous, selfish move on my part and I beg your forgiveness.”
Lily, observing the put-down from across the room with Evelyn, whispered, “Should I step in?”
“Don’t you dare.” Evelyn grabbed her hand. “This is more fun than I’ve had in ages.”
“What I’d like to know,” Aunt Beatrice stated in her imperious tone, “is what you intend to do about it.”
“You think we should hold a belated wedding reception?”
“And draw even more attention to your deliberate snubbing of convention?”
“No, of course not.” His gaze flew to Lily.
She shrugged, but she did so with a sweet smile.
Seeing there was no help forthcoming from that quarter, he returned his gaze to Aunt Beatrice. “Perhaps a ball to welcome Lily home as my wife?”
“The Season’s full up, my dear man,” snorted Aunt Beatrice. “You’d be lucky to squeeze in an afternoon soirée.”
“Which reminds me,” Evelyn said close to Lily’s ear. “Do you have a gown for Devon’s ball tomorrow evening?”
“I once again have the disposal of my entire wardrobe,” Lily said. She wiggled her bare ring finger under Evelyn’s nose. “I have to stop by my home later anyway for one of my mother’s rings.”
“Shouldn’t Kelan supply that?”
“He tried and I refused,” Lily said in a hushed voice that nevertheless dissuaded further comment.
“Your mother’s old rings may suffice,” Evelyn said in very much the same tone, “but your old wardrobe will not. Marriage doesn’t just come with a husband, it comes with a range of bold colours and provocative cuts that simply must be taken advantage of.”
About to dismiss the notion out of hand, Lily bit down on her tongue. Little starts… She might not have acquired a husband in any true sense, but she had acquired a marriage. Look at Kelan, uncomfortable in his own parlour and kowtowing to a woman he’d never met before today.
He’d said nothing would change, but he’d been wrong. Everything had changed! She could keep pretending otherwise, or she could embrace marriage and enjoy the benefits. Either way, she’d still be married tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.
Evelyn took her pause to heart. “Book tomorrow morning for me. My modiste keeps a limited collection of pre-made gems for just such emergencies.”
Kelan, meanwhile, had gone from uncomfortable to downright flustered. Not that one could tell from looking at him, but his next words were ample proof. “I’m very much in love with your niece, Lady Beatrice, and I intend to spend every day of our marriage making it up to her.”
“Yes, that will do nicely,” Aunt Beatrice conceded, finally releasing him from her gruelling stare. “And you may call me Aunt Beatrice.”
If Lily thought she’d been let off lightly, she was proved wrong as soon as Kelan made himself scarce, leaving the ladies to their tea.
Aunt Beatrice peered at Lily over the rim of her teacup. “Don’t think the coincidence of your new husband has escaped my notice.”
Lily and Evelyn shared a horrified look.
“What I don’t understand,” her aunt said, “is why you couldn’t talk to me if your mother’s death has been plaguing you. That is where you ran off to, isn’t it? Cragloden Castle.” She shook her head. “What were you hoping to find, my child?”
“I suppose I needed to see where the accident happened,” Lily said, slowly exhaling the breath she’d held.
And perhaps she should have left well alone. But while she was positive her aunt had no inkling of the demon world, what if she were privy to other secrets?
“Aunt Beatrice,” Lily said, “do you know why my mother went to Cragloden that weekend?”
The weekend a gas explosion had destroyed the original castle, killing Duncan McAllister, Lily’s mother and everyone present.
“Goodness, your mother was forever off to some far-flung place or other,” exclaimed Aunt Beatrice. “There could have been a hundred pressing reasons or none at all. One never knew what Amelia would do next or what drove her.”
“I see,” Lily said softly in her disappointment.
“I’m not sure you do. Your mother was a strong, beautiful woman, stubborn and utterly vexing. She had a short life, Lily, but she packed every minute of it with life. More than that, more than anything, she loved you dearly, my child.” Aunt Beatrice settled her cup in its saucer and reached across the table to cover Lily’s hand with her own. “It wouldn’t surprise me if her spirit had reached out from the grave to draw you to Cragloden, to guide you there to find your destiny, to find happiness and love.”
“Yes,” Lily said, sending up a silent prayer that Aunt Beatrice need never know just how close to the truth she’d meandered. “I think I’d like to believe that.”
Evelyn’s smile wobbled and her eyes were unusually bright with sentiment. Then again, Evelyn knew nothing about Lily’s demon blood, of the destiny her mother had decided on her behalf while she was a babe in the womb.
Later that night, after lying in bed for what felt like hours, Lily gave up. She swung her legs from beneath the covers and flipped the switch to ignite the lights.
Lark House, as she’d discovered during the day, was a statement of modern innovation with white electrics wired throughout. Once her eyes had adjusted to the abnormally bright light, she grabbed her sketchbook and a charcoal pencil and climbed back into bed. She drew a vertical line down the centre of a blank page and labelled the two columns: For / Against.
For: Has a right to know / Vigilance / Avoidance
Against: Worry / Pregnant / Useless
Evelyn’s right to know about Timothkin, so she could be vigilant and avoid any altercation weighed up squarely against what was ultimately useless stress. Evelyn couldn’t do anything or warn anyone about the demon.
Even if Evelyn did agree to retreat to the countryside, a county border wouldn’t divorce her of the anxiety for those left behind in the city, unknowing of the danger, and that kind of stress would wreak havoc with her pregnancy.
To tell or not? Lily needed something to tip the scales and she was fresh out of gut instinct.
A knock at the door pulled her eyes from the page. There was no clock in her bedroom and although she felt as if she’d been lying wide-awake for hours, perhaps it wasn’t that late after all. She grabbed her gown from the foot of the bed, was slipping into it on her way to the door when a second knock made her realise her mistake.
She stopped to face the inter-leading door between the pair of master suites. Since the idea of Kelan deciding to assert his husbandly rights seemed absurd and her dressing gown was more modest than most evening dresses, she covered the distance and turned the handle.
One hand halfway threaded through the silky lengths of his black hair, bristles shadowing the rocky angles of his jaw and, as expected, fully clothed, Kelan met her gaze from his side of the door
way.
“I saw light beneath the door,” he said. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you,” Lily murmured.
Raw, dark, potent power. And that was just the navy depths of his eyes. Evelyn had it wrong. The kind of power Kelan exerted wasn’t attractive. It was daunting, ruthless and unpredictable.
Even though he made no move to cross the threshold, Lily took a step back from the impact of her husband framed inside the doorway. “I’m sorry the light disturbed you.”
“It didn’t.” His hand fell from his hair as he turned from her. “Goodnight, Lily.”
“Kelan, wait.” Her husband also had an abundance of the one thing she sorely lacked. “I haven’t told Evelyn about Timothkin. I think, perhaps, I shouldn’t?”
He stripped his jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair. “I’m relieved to hear that.”
“Relieved?” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “If you thought it was such a bad idea, why didn’t you say something?”
“You wouldn’t have listened.” He turned back to look at her, his fingers loosening the white ties of his cravat. “What changed your mind?”
Lily’s gaze dipped to where he was now fiddling with the top button of his shirt. Goodness, how far did he intend to go?
Not being privy to the etiquette of one’s husband undressing in his own room, she cast her eyes all the way down to the floor and quickly rattled off, “’It occurred to me that Evelyn would never flee town while everyone else remained behind and the only thing she can really do about the demon is worry. I mean, yes, if she does encounter Timothkin at some point, it would be better for her to know, but since that’s unlikely—”
“Quite the opposite,” Kelan cut in smoothly. “In the unlikely event of an interaction, Evelyn would be better off not knowing. Timothkin has been building that façade from caring citizen to parliamentary member for a year and a half. There’s no reason to suddenly jeopardise such a carefully crafted position by randomly attacking a casual citizen.”
Lily glanced up, heartened to find he’d stopped at the second button and his arms were now safely folded.
“However, if Evelyn gave herself away with suspicious reactions,” Kelan continued, “Timothkin would certainly be inclined to take whatever precautions necessary to protect its identity.”
“But there’s always an element of danger when interacting with a demon.”
“I won’t deny that,” he said. “There are degrees of culpability as well as degrees of danger, however, and minimizing one reduces the other.”
“Or we could eliminate it altogether.” She searched his eyes, deep, dark and so unreachable, and knew she was wasting her breath. But she had to try. “Kelan, if I were to ask you, this once, for my peace of mind… Could we not just banish Timothkin?”
“We will, Lily, but not until I’ve learnt more.”
“There’s Agares and Lord knows how many other demons to learn from.”
“We don’t know for sure and we sure as hell don’t know where they are.”
“I’ll find them, I promise.”
“We may not have the time.” Kelan shook his head, a non-negotiable ‘no’ clamped on his jaw. “I’m sorry, Lily, we do this my way.”
FOURTEEN
The Alternate War Office annual ball was held at Kensington Palace. Both lengths of the receiving chamber, transformed into a warship for the occasion, had masts in full sail rising from the floor to the ceiling at thirty-degree angles, providing plenty of swirling canvas alcoves for desirous couples to take advantage of.
Greyston tapped the reassuring weight of his recently acquired cane, hollowed out to fit the width and breadth of his Cairngorm sword, on the overlaid planks while he waited for the sailor across the driftwood counter to pour his drink. The crew winding a seamless path between the guests carried only champagne on their silver trays and he needed something stiffer to get through this evening.
“Grey, there you are!” Evelyn’s husky voice drifted over his shoulder. “The receiving line has finally collapsed and I’ve been released from duty. Any late stragglers can now take care of themselves.”
He took the whiskey handed to him before turning. His gaze slid over the midnight-blue muslin skimming her curves, a blatant invitation for the appreciative grin he greeted her with. “Beautiful, as always.”
She accepted the compliment with a smile. “Don’t think I missed you sneaking past us when we were receiving the Lanthans. Avoiding Devon?”
“I’m avoiding as many people as possible,” he drawled. He threw back the whiskey and slammed the glass on the counter before adding, “Except you, naturally.”
“Then your instincts are in a muddle, because I’m possibly the only one bound to hassle you.” She slipped her arm in his, steering him along the edge of the dance floor. “I distinctly recall charging you with Lily’s safety and the next thing I hear, you’ve disappeared without a trace. You left no word of your whereabouts, ignored my communication and didn’t so much as once enquire after Lily.”
“I left her in far more capable hands than mine.”
“A man only denigrates himself when it suits him,” she observed. “And that doesn’t explain why she’s married to Kelan instead of you.”
He dipped his head to murmur at her ear, “Refer to my previous answer.”
She tilted away to fix a hard stare on him. “Don’t you care a hoot about Lily?”
He matched her stare. As much as he liked Evelyn, he did not like being called out on behaviour that had nothing to do with her. “With all due respect to your fancy ball, Evelyn, do you think I’d be here otherwise?”
Her tone gentled. “What’s going on with you, Grey?”
“Don’t you have other guests to tend to?” He disengaged his arm from hers. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to monopolise you.”
“Fine, no more prying.” She put a hand on her hip and peered up at him. “Why have you all descended on London, anyway?”
He leant in to whisper, “Maybe Scotland ran out of demons.”
“And London hasn’t?”
He wasn’t happy about keeping the situation from Evelyn, but it wasn’t his call. He moved to stand beside her, his gaze sweeping over the dance floor. “That’s what we’re here to establish.”
“Will it ever be over?” she sighed.
He gave a dry laugh. “That’s what I keep asking myself about this ball.”
Realising what he’d just said, he glanced at her and caught the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. They looked at each other a moment, then he raised his brow.
“With all due respect,” they chanted as one.
“I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” she added with a soft chuckle. “Try to have some fun, Grey. If you take a look around, you’ll note there are no debutantes and no chaperones.” She walked a step before throwing him a wink over her shoulder. “Which means there’s no excuse for any wallflowers either.”
Evelyn was immediately absorbed into the crème of society, the calibre of peerage so high, Greyston wouldn’t have been surprised to hear the queen herself was holding court behind one of those billowing sails.
While he had no intention of taking to the dance floor, Greyston admitted she’d touched upon a valid point. He’d been acting like a damp flower these last few days. He’d done everything he could to push Lily away, but he still hadn’t let her go. He hadn’t expected it to be so damned hard, so damned impossible.
His gaze skimmed the packed room until he found Lily. She’d been surrounded from the moment they arrived and was clearly in her element, engaged in multiple conversations, smiling at this one, sharing a giggle with another, laughing, chatting and seemingly listening all at the same time.
It was unfashionable for a husband to devote time to his wife on the these occasions, but Kelan was putting on a show, returning to Lily’s side with a relentless regularity that was sure to be twittered about in weeks to come. He was there now, his hand resting lig
htly on the small of her back, his head angled slightly toward her even as he spoke to the man on his other side.
Looking at them, Greyston could scarcely define what he felt.
Not jealousy, which he’d have understood.
Nothing that raw or desperate, no urge to rip Kelan from her side and plant himself there instead. He’d accepted he didn’t belong there, never could.
“They make a charming couple, do they not?”
His gaze sliced to the left. A woman with long curls the same coppery shade as her gown had slotted in beside him, and that’s as much as he knew. Her head was turned in the direction of Lily and Kelan.
“Are you acquainted with the Earl of Perth?” he asked.
“Not beyond a brief introduction,” she replied in that sweetly lilted voice. “Are you acquainted with his wife?”
One of the gossipmongers, scrounging for fresh bait?
He deliberated on the best approach, then went with, “I consider both Lord and Lady Perth to be close friends.”
She shifted, her chin tilting up as she faced him. Eyes the colour of a summer sky met his. “Mrs. Georgina Bonnington.”
“Greyston,” he returned, momentarily taken aback at the startling beauty and youth when his mind had already pictured her as a rumour-chasing hag. “Greyston Adair.”
Her lips curved into a sensual smile. “Do you dance, Lord Adair?”
“No,” he said firmly as another possibility dawned. “Did Evelyn send you?”
“No.” Challenge sparkled in her eyes just before she set her gaze on a spot across the room.
“Do you see that mast pole?” she asked. “Second from the entrance?” She flashed him another glance. “Meet me behind the sails in five minutes.”
As lovely as she was, Greyston was not in the mood. He caught her by the elbow as she turned to slip away. “Don’t you think your husband might object?”
She spun back on her toes, bringing her face up to his, her lips a breath from brushing his jaw. “This isn’t a seduction, my lord.”
As she was no doubt fully aware, intrigue was an even greater lure for any man than seduction.
The Dark Matters Quartet Page 42