My Fair Lily

by Meara Platt

  Cheerfulness was overrated, Lily thought.

  And somehow, in the rush to take their seats when the bell chimed and the Italian singer began to clear his throat, Lily ended up seated in the front row, wedged between the elderly Duke of Lotheil and the young and rakish Duke of Edgeware, while Ewan ended up two rows back between Meggie and Caledonia, who was sitting unnecessarily close to him. She was all over him, to be precise.

  “We hate her, don’t we?” Dillie said, leaning across the Duke of Edgeware to pat her hand.

  Lily nodded. “Vehemently.”

  And if Lily hadn’t been so distracted by petty jealousy—honestly, books were so much easier—she might have wondered how Ian Markham, the notorious Duke of Edgeware, came to be seated between her and Dillie. And might have wondered why Dillie felt so comfortable beside him when everyone knew that the dangerously handsome duke was not to be let near their unmarried daughters.

  Lily hurried into the garden when the recital ended. Her head was pounding and her heart ached. Dillie followed her outside. “They’re merely friends,” she said, trying her best to be supportive.

  “I have a headache, that’s all. I wasn’t thinking of Ewan’s friends.”

  Dillie nudged her. “Yes, you were. Who could miss the way Miss Corkstopper was clinging to Ewan’s arm? I’ll put a laxative in her wine. That ought to keep her occupied for the duration of this party.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Despite her desire to wallow in pity, Lily laughed. She knew her sister was capable of doing just such a thing. “I’ll be fine, Dillie. You needn’t poison Ewan’s sweetheart.”

  “Who said she was his sweetheart? Did he say so? I’ll poison his wine too, if he’s so foolish as to be taken in by her outward appearance. I saw her eyes narrow when she looked at you. She’s a cat with claws bared and that merry politeness is just an act.”

  Lily wished the evening would end. She’d lost the Royal Society. Never had Ewan to lose, that point made painfully clear by the arrival of the beautiful Callie. She wasn’t used to all this turmoil in her heart. How did others bear it?

  “Seems Ewan’s smarter than you give him credit for. Here he comes. See, he’s looking for you and not that wicked Corky MacCorkstopper.”

  “She isn’t wicked. And her name’s Callie MacCorkindale.”

  “That’s what I said. I’ll leave you in his capable hands.” She slipped away.

  Lily held her breath as Ewan approached. She pretended not to notice him, instead busying herself by gazing at the stars. It was a beautiful night. She would have noticed sooner if not for fretting over Ewan. The bright silver moon shone like a diamond amid a tapestry of sparkling stars. It was a perfect night for moonlight kisses.

  A cool breeze ruffled across her cheeks and through the loose curls of her hair. However, Lily could only feel the warmth of Ewan’s body, so close to hers as he came up beside her and crossed his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, lass.”

  “I’m not.” She glanced up at him and smiled, aching to touch those broad, flexed muscles. “You’re with me.”

  He wasn’t smiling as he said, “That’s even more dangerous.”

  “Why?” Was he going to kiss her? Yes. Please. But he did not care for her romantically. He merely considered her a friend, even though they’d shared a few spectacular kisses. She’d been the one to initiate each one. He had merely gone along.

  “Lass, it’s dark. You’re alone. Who knows what evil is lurking out here?”

  “We’re in the Simmingtons’ garden. There are sixty people close by in the music room.”

  “None of whom would notice if someone came up from behind, clamped a hand over your mouth, and dragged you into the shadows.”

  Lily’s smile faded. “My, you’re morbid this evening. Have you discovered something about those villains who attacked you at the horse auction?”

  “No, but I intend to.” He stared at her hard, and then ran a hand across the back of his neck, something he tended to do when perplexed about an issue. “They attacked you as well.”

  “That still troubles you?”

  “Of course, lass. I won’t stop thinking about it until I figure it out. Why did they come after you?”

  “I’ve also given it thought since we discussed it this morning. I’m certain it was simply a matter of mistaken identity. Those horrid men mistook me for Meggie.”

  “You’re assuming those wharf rats were hired to send me a warning. Problem is, I don’t know of anyone who wishes to harm me... now that we’ve ruled out my own family.”

  She placed a hand on his arm, unable to resist comforting him. There was pain in his voice when he spoke of his family. “I’m glad they’re innocent. Even Despicable Grandfather, so Meggie ought to be safe now. No one will dare approach her while she’s in his company. And he always travels with a contingent of footmen. They’d stop any stranger who got near her. When she isn’t with your grandfather, she’s with you.”

  “Then there’s you.”

  Lily shook her head. “Since that incident with Desmond, your grandfather’s footmen have been with us wherever we go. To the shops. To the park.”

  “Only when you’re with Meggie. Whenever you’re not with Meggie, there’s no one protecting you.”

  “But I’ve assured you that I’ll be more careful. Oh, I see.” He was pointing out that he did not plan to protect her, that he couldn’t protect her since he was going to be busy with Corky MacCorkstopper now that she was in town. “You needn’t worry about me.” She reached into the fashionably styled sash that was designed into her gown and circled just beneath her breasts. “I have this.” She held up a hat pin.

  “A meager weapon, and of no use if you’re attacked from behind. The first thing any self-respecting assailant would do is grab your hands.”

  Lily sighed, wishing he would grab her hands and drag her into his embrace. She wouldn’t struggle. Indeed, she was leaning so close, her body was more than halfway there. “Consider me duly warned. May we please speak of something else? Did you know that your grandfather and Meggie joined us for supper? He’s been wonderful to Meggie all evening.”

  Ewan’s expression darkened, and though his arms were still stiffly crossed over his chest, she saw that he’d curled his hands into fists. Was standing in a moonlit garden with her such a chore? “Bastard. He only did it to torture Desmond and Evangeline. They couldn’t attend because I broke Desmond’s nose. But they’ll hear all about the musicale, particularly how the old duke fawned over Meggie.”

  “That’s horrid.” Lily hadn’t thought of that possibility. She’d been so easily taken in by Ewan’s grandfather, so delighted by the courtesy and attention he was giving to Meggie. Of course, horrid old men didn’t turn into gentle lambs overnight.

  Ewan eased his stance and turned to face her. Silvery starlight shone on his hair and broad shoulders. He looked like a Highlands warrior. Brave. Strong. Fearless. “Don’t be taken in by his games, Lily. His cruelty is all the more venomous because of its subtlety.”

  Which explained why Ewan had worn the kilt. Deliberately. As she’d first thought. He meant to stick his thumb in the duke’s eye, meant to let the old man know that he wasn’t fooled by the outward show of kindness. Also, Ewan was a Scot through and through. The second part of his message was a declaration—Ewan was not going to bend to the duke’s English ways.

  Ewan tucked a finger under her chin and drew her gaze upward once more to meet his. She melted at the soft grin on his face. “Seems a shame to waste a perfect night,” he said in a husky murmur.

  Lily smiled back. “Would be criminal to waste it.”

  He lowered his head and was about to fulfill her every fantasy when Callie called to him from the terrace. “Ewan! There you are.” Had she noticed Ewan about to kiss her? She’d brought along reinforcements, dragging Archie behind her, and her long, catlike fingernails were clamped onto his arm as she pulled him down the small row of stairs onto the soft, dewy
grass. “Who’s this? A friend of yours, darling?”

  Darling?

  Ewan introduced her to Callie again.

  “Of course! You must forgive my oversight. But I’ve met so many Farthingales this evening, can’t seem to get any of you straight. It’s most confusing. Didn’t I see you dancing in the arms of the Duke of Edgeware a short while ago? You seemed quite transported, not that any woman wouldn’t be while in his arms.”

  “You’re mistaken. I’ve been out here.”

  “I saw you with him.” She appeared indignant.

  “It must have been my sister you saw dancing.”

  Callie beaded her eyes. “I know what I saw.”

  Lily sighed and glanced at Ewan. The Duke of Edgeware had no interest in her. No man did. Ewan winked at her, obviously finding humor in Callie’s confusion. He knew the notion was ridiculous. After the way she’d gawked at him this morning, how could he doubt she was attracted to him? Like a bee to honey. She supposed Ewan was used to women flitting around him. Probably had them by the hundreds, while she’d never even had a beau.

  Men didn’t like her in that capture-a-man’s-soul way. Ashton had paid attention to her because of her research. He’d stopped coming around now that she was banned from the Royal Society. Where was he, come to think of it? Was he purposely avoiding her? She understood Ashton’s concerns. He didn’t want the duke to be reminded of their connection and decide to ban him as well. Still, he should have been here this evening.

  “Oh, you’re the one,” Callie said, interrupting Lily’s thoughts. “I recall now. Ewan told me about you. You’re the bluestocking he hired to ease Meggie’s introduction into London society. You needn’t worry. We’ll take her and Ewan off your hands. Darling, did you hear? Lord and Lady Abercrombie have also come to town. They’ve invited all of us to their estate this weekend. It’s just outside London. Uncle Archie has a splendid new carriage. Plenty of room for you and Meggie. The four of us can travel together. Won’t that be fun?”

  Ewan ignored her, turning to Lily instead. “You look cold, lass. Come, I’ll escort you inside.”

  “Please don’t. I’m fine. Stay and chat with your friends. I promised to ride home with Eloise. You know how she tires easily. I’m sure she’s ready to leave now.”

  Callie grabbed his arm as he attempted to follow her. “Do stay with me, Ewan. Miss Farthingale doesn’t want our company. Isn’t it obvious?” She said something in Gaelic that Lily didn’t understand, but it drew a gale of laughter from her uncle and a Gaelic response from Ewan. Though Lily didn’t understand Ewan’s response either, she knew he wouldn’t indulge in a jest at her expense. Nevertheless, she was made to feel like the outsider.

  What had she thought? That he’d magically kiss her in a scented garden under a silver moon?

  She turned on her heels and started up the terrace steps to return to the music room, and then realized Archie was following just steps behind her. Which meant Ewan and Callie were alone in the cool breeze and carpet of shimmering stars. Great. Just perfect. Ewan was going to kiss that Scottish predator in the moonlight. My moonlight.

  It wasn’t fair.

  It was an English moon. My moon. Not Callie’s.

  CHAPTER 13

  EWAN PAUSED OUTSIDE of Desmond’s townhouse in Kensington the following afternoon. It seemed elegant on the surface, but a closer inspection revealed early signs of wear around the window frames and paint beginning to peel around the lintels. Were his cousins hurting for funds? He had no doubt that their grandfather kept tight control of the purse strings, providing just enough to allow them to maintain the appearance of comfort, but never enough to grant them any freedom from his domination.

  The door opened as he approached. An elderly butler ushered him in, his steps achingly slow as he settled Ewan in the salon, and then inched across the room, back into the entry hall, and up the staircase with the speed of a snail to see if his master was home to visitors. Ewan, never a patient man on his best days, wanted to haul the old man over his shoulder and carry him upstairs himself. It was the only way he’d have the answers he desired before nightfall.

  Evangeline returned home while he waited, obviously having come from a shopping trip. He was never happier to see his younger cousin. Though only a year or two older than Meggie, the strain in her eyes made her appear substantially older. She was still a beautiful girl— or would be, if she ever learned to smile. “Let me help you with those packages,” he said, startling her.

  She glowered at him, her cheeks pink from a mix of the cool outdoors and anger on finding him standing in her home. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to sort things out between us, and to correct any idle gossip you may have heard about last night.”

  “To correct it? Or to gloat?” She drew away when he reached for her packages. One appeared to hold dishes and the other was shaped like a teapot. No personal items, just the functional sort that would be set out in a cupboard display.

  He sighed and took them from her anyway. “Where do they go?”

  “In the dining room.” Her lips began to quiver and she was obviously about to cry.

  He sighed again. “Summon your brother down here. I think your butler died along the way. Not sure he made it up the stairs.” He drew aside one of the dining room chairs and settled into it. “I’ll wait here, Evie.”

  That use of her name drew him back fifteen years. It surprised her as well. “What do you want with us? You’ve won, Ewan. Why can’t you leave us alone?”

  “I haven’t won anything. Nor do I wish for anything from our grandfather. By the way, I’m sorry I broke Desmond’s nose.”

  Evangline nodded. “He shouldn’t have struck your friend. Lily. Is that her name? He didn’t mean to, but she stepped between him and Meggie... it just happened. And he told me he’d seen you at Tattersalls. I know he stood by while those villains punched the stuffing out of you. He didn’t know they wielded knives. He would have helped you had he realized you were in serious danger.”

  Ewan doubted it.

  “Bring him down here, Evie. We’re even now. Here’s our chance to start over.”

  “I wish I could believe you.” However, she turned and left the room, her step light on the stairs as she scrambled up them to fetch her brother.

  Desmond wasn’t nearly as hopeful or polite. “Get the hell out of here, Ewan.”

  “Sit down,” Ewan ordered as though this were his home and they were the guests. He wasn’t trying to belittle his cousins, but he’d come here to talk and damn it, that’s precisely what he was going to do. “You ought to know Grandfather better than anyone. When have you ever seen him be kind or gracious to his kinfolk? To anyone, for that matter. He never is, unless he has an ulterior motive.”

  “He has a motive.” Desmond grabbed a chair, swung it out and settled into it. Though his movements were tense and angry, Ewan took his decision to sit as a good sign. “He wants to make you duke and leave me to rot.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “He’s had years in which to make me his heir and hasn’t done it,” Desmond insisted. “Not when my father died. Not after your father died. I’ve helped him with the Lotheil affairs for years. I’ve worked hard and done a damn good job, but nothing I do is ever quite good enough for him.”

  “I think he’s trying to manipulate both of us. Even if he does offer, I won’t accept. He knows it.”

  “Hah! Am I supposed to believe you? Am I to ignore the gossip now spreading like a wildfire about town? He doted on Meggie at the Simmington musicale, showered her with attention and every courtesy. He introduced her as his granddaughter.”

  “She is his granddaughter.”

  Desmond pounded his fist on the table. “So is Evie, but he didn’t invite her to join you, or send a carriage around to deliver her to the Simmingtons.”

  Ewan felt badly about that. Not even he had thought to call on Evie and bring her along, nor had he bothered to make arrangements for Elo
ise to pick her up. He couldn’t have asked Lily, not after what Desmond did to her. But had he asked, she would have agreed. Unlike his grandfather, Lily was sweet-natured and loving. She would have helped him win back his family, whether she liked them or not. “You’re right, Des. To my shame, I didn’t think beyond getting myself over there before the blasted party ended. It won’t happen again. I promise you. Until you’re healed, I’ll take care of Evie.”

  He noticed the flicker of surprise in Evangeline’s eyes, perhaps a ray of hope in their sad depths. Damn it. Why hadn’t his father interceded sooner?

  Desmond’s expression darkened. “We don’t need your charity.”

  “I’m not offering any. We’re family. If Evie needs an escort, let her send word to me and I’ll provide it.” Ewan turned to her. “Truly, Evie. You’re welcome to join—”

  “She’s my sister.” Desmond was now out of his chair and rounding the table toward him, hands curled into fists at his sides. “I’ll take care of her. Do you think I’d ever trust her in your care? You who wish to disgrace us in the eyes of our grandfather?”

  Ewan hadn’t expected it to be easy, so he was prepared for his cousin’s accusations. “I know it will take time to heal our family.”

  “Time?” He shook his head and let out a sad laugh. “It will never happen.”

  Ewan rose to face him, trying not to wince at how truly pathetic Desmond looked with that stark white bandage across his nose and the deep purple and yellow bruises under his eyes. “It will. I don’t blame you for doubting me. My father ought to have stepped in after your own father died, but he didn’t. He allowed the old man to take you in, knowing all the while the damage he might cause. I know what that old bastard has done to you and I’m trying to fix it. Give me the chance.”

  “There’s nothing to fix.” Desmond’s hands were still balled into fists, but his tone was strained and revealed his desperation despite his best efforts to maintain that angry facade.

  Ewan’s heart twisted into knots. His cousins were suffering, yet too proud to admit it. Not that he blamed them. Were he in their position, the sky could have collapsed on his head and he wouldn’t have uttered a word. “Evie, I’m at your service whenever you need it. Have you made arrangements to attend Lady Dayne’s dinner party? I know you were on the guest list.”