Her cheeks burned as she thought of the infinitely passionate encounter she and Simon had shared in the library just a few hours ago, but she shoved that thought aside. “I wouldn’t have you think that there was more between us than there is.”
“I’m certain that is true,” Anne said. “But Simon is actively searching for a bride now that he has taken the title of duke.”
“I assure you, that has nothing to do with me!” Lillian insisted, her heart throbbing now.
Anne smiled, the expression indulgent. “Perhaps. But Waverly and I have been betrothed since we were children, so I’ve known Simon for many years. And I have never seen him take such a keen interest in a woman before.”
Lillian blinked. Here she had all but convinced herself that she was just another conquest to Simon. “Certainly that cannot be true. And there are far better potential matches for him at this party and back in London.”
Anne shrugged and began to walk again, this time forcing Lillian to move. “Unlike my fiancé, I think there are many qualities that make up a good match. Certainly there are those who can make a marriage for money or title alone work. But I believe the unions that seem happiest among our rank are those where the couple shares a common purpose, a similar sense of the world, and a parallel humor and intelligence. From all outward appearances, it seems you and Simon are well-matched in those things. At least the humor and intelligence part.”
Against her will, Lillian’s thoughts turned to Simon again. And not just his kiss. She thought of how often she wanted to laugh when she was with him. Or delve deeper into his thoughts. Was that what Lady Anne meant? That strange connection that went deeper than mere physical desire.
A shiver racked her as they crested a hill and came into sight of the manor house, rising like a beacon on the horizon. She kept her eyes on the home as they moved closer and it loomed bigger and bigger.
“Well, I’ve only known the man for a few days,” Lillian finally whispered. “So I don’t really know if we have much in common.”
“Fair enough,” Anne said, patting her hand. “Although I have always teased Simon that when he found his mate, it would be like lightning for him. A sudden burst that would make all others fade in his estimation. I’ll be very interested to see if my prediction comes true.”
Lillian shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know about that, but I hope you and I will be friends regardless.”
Anne smiled as the butler opened the door for them and they stepped into the sunny foyer together.
“Of course, Lillian! I would be very pleased to call you a friend no matter what circumstances come in the future. Now why don’t we go onto the back terrace and share some tea before the others return? I would dearly love to gossip shamelessly about that gown Lady Penelope was wearing last night. Have you ever seen such a terrible shade of green? I heard she was trying to match Simon’s eyes, but if that is true, she failed miserably!”
Lillian laughed as she followed Anne to the back terrace. Even though she liked this woman a great deal, her words troubled Lillian. With every moment that passed, with every encounter, it seemed this situation was growing more and more complicated. And she feared in the end, no one would be happy with the outcome.
Especially her.
Simon read the ledger before him three times, but still the words and numbers didn’t fully compute. What he saw could not be true. And yet there it was, in his father’s own hand.“You are troubled, what is it?”
Simon shook his head before he looked across the room to Rhys, who had been sorting through his own piles of correspondence and ledgers from over the decades. Now his friend was looking at him with concern.
Simon held up the ledger he had been examining. “I don’t understand these notations.”
“What are they?”
Simon returned his gaze to the line of names and numbers. “Ten years ago my father put forth a piece of legislation in the House of Lords that would have helped ease the conditions for some of lower-class shipyard workers. There were men who opposed those laws, people who made their fortunes on the backs of the laborers.”
Rhys nodded. “I vaguely recall that. There was some talk that bribery was involved in the stoppage of those laws.”
Simon swallowed. He had a very sick feeling. “This ledger shows my father actually sent several payments to the very men who led the opposition. The ones he later accused of all manner of trickery in obtaining what they wanted.”
He looked up to find Rhys still staring at him. “Why would my father do that?”
His friend looked away, but not before Simon saw a flash of suspicion in his expression. The same type of misgiving that turned his own stomach.
“I don’t know, Billingham,” Rhys said softly. “But I’m certain there is an explanation. Perhaps your father hoped to woo his opponents with money and convince them to your side later. Or maybe they made a false promise to him to stop their crusade if he paid them off.”
Simon pursed his lips. “My father always claimed to abhor that kind of politicking. Plus there is another very large payment that went out after the entire situation was over and forgotten. If my father was trying to pay them out of opposition, why would he give them more money after they betrayed him?”
Rhys raised both eyebrows, and Simon’s heart sank even further. There was one very obvious explanation, though he didn’t wish to think on it. Not until he had more information, at the very least.
“Have you come across any other papers pertaining to a…” He looked down at his sheets again. “…Lord Kinston or Mr. Xavier Warren?”
“Not yet,” Rhys said, flipping through the papers in his lap. “Why?”
“They are two of the men my father apparently gave money to who were involved on the other side of the bill. I would be curious if there is more correspondence or explanation on the matter.”
“Wait,” Rhys said, shuffling through the papers once before he held up an envelope. “There is this and it has Warren’s name on the return address.”
Simon crossed the room and took the letter from his friend. As he opened it, his hands shook slightly, though he wasn’t certain why. There had to be a reasonable explanation for what his father had done. But what he found inside did nothing to relieve his worry and confusion.
“Your Grace, I received your payment dated July 13. You may consider this matter closed and my silence ensured. Xavier Warren,” he read aloud before he looked at Rhys again. “Silence? What kind of silence could my father have been buying?”
Rhys shrugged. “I have no idea. Your father seemed above any scandal. He was revered for his piety.”
Simon nodded. “And yet there seems to be more to this matter.”
Rhys looked around. “Well, I assume if there is a ledger and a letter referring to parts of the affair, there is probably more evidence scattered about this room. And now we know to be on the lookout for it.”
As his friend returned to his own reading, Simon glanced around him with a deep sigh. There was so much material to go through, and now that he was looking for something specific, the entire search had taken on a deeper, not particularly pleasant meaning.
Truth be told, he wasn’t certain if he wanted to find whatever it was he was looking for.
Lillian rested her head against the back of her chair and closed her eyes as the soothing sounds of the piano and the sweetness of Gabby’s voice lilted through the air around her. For the first time since her arrival, she felt at peace.The musicale had been the dowager duchess’s idea, and she had invited all the ladies to regale the group with their talents. Lillian had been one of the few not anxious to share her “gifts.” She had very little affinity in the area of music. Her voice was pitchy and she had never had the patience to become proficient in piano or harp or any of the other pretty instruments ladies were meant to play.
Of course, the dowager would probably be just as happy she did not rise. The older woman had been sitting behind her all night, and Lillian c
ould veritably feel the contempt coming from her.
With a sigh, Lillian opened her eyes and smiled with encouragement at Gabby as her friend sang. Then she let her gaze wander the room.
It was a funny thing to look at a crowd when they didn’t know they were being observed. Some of the women and men smiled, clearly enjoying the music. Others seemed jealous, especially the girls who had already performed and didn’t have the vast talent of her friend.
A few in the crowd seemed bored, one gentleman even kept looking at his pocket watch, as if counting the moments until the entire experience was over.
Lillian smothered a smile until her gaze fell on Simon. He had taken a place by himself at the back of the room and there he stood, leaning against a wall. Separated from the crowd, he stared at the little elevated platform where Gabby played, but he did not seem to see or hear her.
In fact, he did not truly appear to be attending to the music at all. His face was pinched, almost pained, and his brow wrinkled in a decidedly worried expression. Lillian caught her breath as she observed him.
Apparently their time spent together had taught her a great deal about the man, for she was able to detect a sadness to his eyes. And a faraway emptiness that told her he was thinking of troubling things.
He blinked suddenly as if he felt her stare on him, then his gaze found hers and focused. The corner of his lip lifted ever so slightly in a smile, and against her will, Lillian’s heart leapt.
When he returned his attention to Gabby, Lillian let out her breath in a sigh. A stab of pain made itself known deep within her. And she knew the cause.
Guilt.
It had been so easy to plan the demise of the late Duke of Billingham’s good name before she met his son. Before she spent time in Simon’s company, she had been able to dismiss the man’s family as conspirators, or at least as people who had known about Roger Crathorne’s ways and ignored them for their own benefit. But now, knowing Simon a little better, feeling his kiss, hearing his honest and straightforward words…
Well, she was beginning to recognize just how much she would destroy his world if she followed through on the plans she had made when she came here to his home.
Perhaps they were a mistake. Perhaps she could stop this madness before it was too late. Perhaps…
Before she could finish her thought, she felt a sharp jab in her ribs. She turned with a gasp of shock and found the dowager duchess glaring at her, one long finger still pointing from where she had poked Lillian.
Their eyes met, and then the other woman slowly shook her head. “No, Miss Mayhew. No,” she murmured, low enough that only Lillian heard her.
Lillian’s lips parted in shock and anger as she spun back around and faced forward. Obviously the dowager had noticed Lillian’s regard for her son.
How much had she known about her late husband’s lies?
Lillian pursed her lips with renewed purpose. Tomorrow she would talk to Simon. She would find the justice her father had sought and her mother deserved.
She would complete the quest that had brought her here. One way or another.
Chapter 10
If Lillian’s resolve to pursue the source of Simon’s worry had faded by the time the sun rose, she ignored that. She roused herself early and readied for the day without ringing for Maggie, something she had begun to get quite good at since she lost her own maid.
Soon she found herself slipping through the quiet hallways of the Billingham estate, searching for Simon. She had a hunch that if he was so troubled and distracted last night, he might very well be awake as well, still worrying over whatever had caused him grief.But where would he be?
Starting in the one place she knew he loved, she crept into the library. It was empty and quiet, without even a fire burning in the grate, but the large windows let in morning sunshine. She looked around with memories assaulting her. They had kissed here. And it had awoken something so primal in her.
Something she was willing to sacrifice for her father’s demand and her mother’s revenge.
“Stop it,” she murmured to herself as she left the room and shut the door smartly behind her. She had no time for regrets.
Thrusting back her shoulders with wavering resolve, she continued her search of the main rooms. The parlors were just as empty as the library. Finally she came upon the door to what he had described as his office during their truncated tour a few days earlier. She hesitated outside, heart throbbing, and finally found enough courage to knock.
“Enter,” came Simon’s voice from within, and she noted that he sounded strained and tired.
Biting her lip, she stepped into the room. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, she gasped and looked around in shock at the state of the chamber. It was positively awash in paperwork. Disordered, toppling, piled dangerously high, it seemed no corner of the room was free of the stuff.
When Simon had mentioned his father kept everything, she had never pictured such a mess as this.
She found Simon amidst the chaos, sitting behind a large desk…or at least she assumed it was large, so buried was it. His head was bent and he was reading, his eyebrows knit together as he did so. A pot of tea was perched precariously beside him on one stack of papers.
She shivered. In this room was the late duke’s past. His truth. Perhaps everything she had come here to find.
“You can take the old pot out and place the new one—” Simon broke off his direction as he glanced up. “Oh, Lillian.”
He made his way to his feet carefully and came around the desk. “I apologize, I thought you were one of the maids, come to bring me fresh tea.”
Lillian forced a smile, surprised yet again by the faint pleasure that lit behind his dark eyes. Here he was, pleased to see her, and she had been secretly plotting against him.
“Good morning, Simon,” she managed to choke out.
He motioned to one of the few empty chairs in the room with a smile. “It is better now that I’ve seen you. What are you doing awake so early?”
She dipped her chin, but did not take the chair he had offered. “Unlike so many of the young ladies here, I’ve never been comfortable lollygagging in the bed until noon.”
She thought she saw a light of something heated in Simon’s stare, but then he smiled. “Well, I can understand that. It would take quite an inducement to keep me in bed after seven.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks and she turned away slightly. She could well imagine what kind of inducement he meant. In fact, she found herself imagining it a bit too much and cleared her throat loudly to snap herself away from the inappropriate daydream.
“Actually, I admit you are the reason I’m awake at such an early hour,” she said, renewing her purpose.
He took a long step closer. “Me? How interesting. And what have I done to earn your attention?”
She looked up at him and her breath caught. When he focused his gaze on her, she was made even more aware of the beautiful color of his eyes. And how hot and focused that stare could be.
She swallowed hard before she whispered, “Last night at the musicale, I could not help but notice that you seemed…troubled.”
He blinked and the seductive teasing in his stare faded, replaced by wariness. “I see.”
“I thought—that is, I hoped I could be of some assistance to you.”
He did not respond, but instead moved closer. She watched as he reached out, almost in half-motion time, and took her hand. He lifted it to his lips and then they were on her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut and her knees threatened to buckle at the harsh and hot sensations that rocketed through her every nerve ending from his lips. In that instant, she was on fire and she feared the man who had started it might be the only one who could put it out.
“Sweetest Lillian,” he purred, and she opened her eyes as he tugged her closer. His arms came around her and she molded against his chest, leaning into him almost against her will.
She lifted her mouth in mute offering and he took it, g
ently pressing his lips to hers in such a sweet way that tears stung behind her eyelids at the warm pressure.
Lillian had been an average little girl, she had dreamed of a man who would kiss her just like this. And even though those dreams had faded due to circumstances far beyond her control, they hadn’t died. And yet the one who fulfilled those fantasies so well was most certainly the very worst choice for the job.
But that didn’t stop her from parting her lips, inviting him in with the slightest sweep of her tongue against his. And it didn’t stop her from letting out a moan of pleasure when the thin wire of his control broke and the kiss went from gentle to passionate.
Suddenly she found herself moving as Simon spun her around so her back was to the desk. He urged her up into the edge of the table and leaned into her as he pulled her even closer. As in the library the afternoon before, Lillian felt the shift in their embrace as his ardor grew.
But this time she also sensed something else. A desperation. A driving need that sought to mask something unpleasant. She understood that need. How often had she wished to make the pain go away, in any fashion possible?
And strangely, she wanted to give him that gift. She wanted to make him forget whatever troubled him, to wash away his sorrow with the gift of her body. And perhaps wash away some of her own, as well.
Perhaps there was something about her that made him feel that surrender, for he let out a low, powerful groan of pleasure into her mouth. His body arched into hers, rattling the papers on the table behind her, sending a few fluttering off the edges. But she forgot all that, forgot everything when she felt the rigid edge of his erection press into her belly.
Although she had no firsthand knowledge of the pleasures of the flesh, she had heard of such things from married friends and seen illustrations in a few naughty books one of the servants had accidentally left lying around years ago. Unlike many of her contemporaries, Lillian had never felt fear at the idea of a man fitting his body into hers.
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