*
Lilly smiled as he showed her to her seat. No doubt the dinner would devolve into another round of barbed comments and thinly-veiled animosity. The rate at which Elsworth was consuming his wine was telling enough.
“I take it you’re letting our grandmother have free rein in planning the wedding, Miss Burkhart?” Elsworth asked as he placed his glass back on the table and a footman appeared to promptly refill it.
“We have been discussing the plans,” she said.
“Well, you really should defer to her expertise. After all, what could you possibly know about planning an event for your social betters?” he asked.
“Elsworth,” Val said in a chilling tone, “if you wish to keep your tongue, you will still it. Your snide comments will not be tolerated.”
Elsworth’s lips quirked and he looked at the dowager duchess. “He’s a savage, Grandmother. Surely you won’t stand for such barbaric threats at your dinner table?”
“On the contrary, Elsworth.” The dowager duchess enunciated each word with cool precision. “I happen to think such threats are a credit to Valentine. Any man who would let someone insult his bride-to-be in such a manner without taking action would be unworthy of the woman in question. I think, perhaps, you are overtired and should take a tray in your room.”
Elsworth began to sputter. “But, surely… Grandmother, you cannot mean to defend his choice!”
“I can, I do, and I will,” she said. “Go to your room, Elsworth. If you mean to act as a child, you shall be treated as one.”
Lilly said nothing. At that point, anything she added would be superfluous. Instead, she sipped her wine and bore the full weight of Elsworth’s furious gaze. He glared daggers at her as he rose from his chair.
“My own family has turned against me for the worthless daughter of a whore. I suppose you’re pleased, Miss Burkhart! No doubt, that was your plan all along… divide and conquer!”
Val rose then, his chair tipping backward. “Speak another syllable and I will call you out right here. Think carefully, Cousin. We both know I’m the better shot.”
“Enough!” the dowager duchess shouted. “Valentine, sit down. Elsworth, go now and say nothing else. If you so much as open your mouth, I’ll not only disinherit you entirely but cut you off from this minute forward. I will brook no such insolence in my house. Is that clear?”
Val took his seat and Elsworth stormed off, the door slamming behind him.
“Well, I think I’ve lost my appetite,” Lilly said.
“I think we all have,” the dowager duchess replied. “But we’ll eat regardless. We’ve given the servants enough to talk about for one night. There’s a lesson to be learned in all of this, my dear… rule your house. Neither servants, nor husbands, nor relatives should have more authority in it than you do. It is the only domain granted to women in this world, after all. Hold fast to it.”
“Yes, your grace,” Lilly murmured in agreement. It was sound advice whatever her future husband might think of it.
“With your face and at your age, you can afford to be an iron fist in a silk glove… the older you get, the silk gets worn and faded,” the dowager duchess warned. “Isn’t that right, Valentine?”
Val looked up at her, his lips curled upward at one side in a half-smile. “Some women, Grandmother, will be beautiful their whole lives long. Age holds no power over them.”
She guffawed. “Pretty words for your pretty betrothed.”
“They do apply to her, as well,” Val agreed. “But, in fact, I was speaking of you.”
The old woman smiled, charmed in spite of herself. In that moment, Lilly fully appreciated the power of her husband’s charm.
Chapter Twelve
Wearing one of her new nightrails and a wrapper of the softest velvet, Lilly was hardly dressed for roaming the halls but she’d had no choice in the matter. Declining Mary’s offer to help her change after dinner would have required explanations she did not wish to make. Clandestine activities with a sprained ankle were not all what they were cracked up to be. Lilly wasn’t precisely creeping along the corridor. With a walking stick and a lingering limp, she couldn’t really creep anywhere. But she was moving toward her intended destination as discreetly as possible. After the fiasco of dinner and the blatant hostility from Elsworth, she needed to talk to Val and she needed to do it privately, without the dowager duchess present.
Just as she neared his chamber, the door opened and a small man in neat livery stepped out bearing the coat Val had worn at dinner, the one that had been splashed with wine when he and Elsworth had very nearly come to blows. Lilly ducked into an alcove and prayed the little man wouldn’t look in her direction.
As he passed, she gave a soft sigh of relief. It was imperative that she speak to Val, but the last thing she needed was to be caught sneaking into his rooms. Betrothed or not, some scandals could not be recovered from. And while she wished to speak with him, she was left with the distinct impression that perhaps he also needed to see her. The animosity the two men had toward one another ran deep and was apparently a long-standing situation. But beneath it, at least on Val’s part, she sensed a great deal of sadness. They might be at one another’s throats, but she suspected very strongly that he had once loved his cousin and that he was deeply wounded by the things that now hung between them.
Pausing outside his door, she raised her hand and knocked softly.
The door opened abruptly. “Blast it, Fenton, I told you—” His thunderous expression faded slowly only to be replaced by one of shock and then utter puzzlement. “What are you doing here?”
“Preparing to be the scandal of London if you leave me standing in your doorway any longer,” she said. “Let me in before someone sees!”
He stuck his head out of the door, peered down the corridor in both directions and then stepped back to allow her entrance. “I don’t think I need to tell you what a disastrous idea this is, do I?”
“What is really going on with you and your cousin?” she demanded.
He stood there, staring at her in stony silence for a long moment. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Well, I don’t want to be kept in the dark. I’ve a right to know,” she insisted.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fine, I will tell you and then you will go back to your room. You cannot be in here… it’s unwise.”
“Unwise? Are you suggesting now that your intentions toward me are dishonorable?”
“Of course not,” he said, appearing mightily offended. “It isn’t that. But damn it, Lilly, a man can only resist temptation for so long!”
“And I tempt you?” she asked, her reasons for coming to his room momentarily forgotten.
“More than anyone ever has. But that isn’t why you’re here!”
“No,” she agreed. “It isn’t. I couldn’t help but think, at dinner… it hurts you, doesn’t it? That the two of you are so at odds.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “We weren’t always. At one time, I thought we were closer than brothers. But the older we got, and the more certain our differing prospects in life became, the more he resented me. For being the only son of the eldest son, and heir to everything we held, for not being as obsessed with the rules of society and the notion of propriety. Whatever it is, he resents me because he feels he deserves it more.”
“That’s really it? It’s just jealousy? Surely he knows that you would be generous with him!” Lilly moved deeper into the room, settling herself onto one of the chairs before the fireplace. Her ankle did not pain her overly much, but she had no intention of leaving any time soon.
“That isn’t—the title provides power and prestige. I think it’s those things more than just the family’s wealth that he is envious of.” His tone held all the hurt and disdain he felt for letting something so unimportant destroy their relationship. “I think that is why he has fallen in with such terrible people… because he wants to feel powerful and they have spun a fine tale to make
him believe he could be.”
“Is it possible that they have some involvement in the attempt on my life? If they are as terrible as you believe, and if they are determined that Elsworth should inherit… could we be painting him as a greater villain than he is?” Lilly asked.
“I don’t know,” Val answered honestly and hope flared for just a moment in his eyes. “Right now, it’s too great a risk to eliminate anyone as a suspect. And even if he isn’t responsible for the attempt to shoot you, his behavior toward you is unforgivable regardless.”
“The thing of it is… he slings words like arrows,” Lilly said haltingly. “But I find it difficult to believe that he has the nerve to do anything more than that. Even with his veiled threats, I think he only wanted to intimidate me.”
“You could be wrong. But the timing of it is suspect,” Val said, moving toward the other chair and sitting across from her. “If I marry, he loses any hope of inheriting substantial wealth. And the morning after we announced our intent to wed, you are nearly killed. I owe you an apology, Lillian. If you want to call a halt to this, I won’t stop you. I acted rashly and impulsively and, in so doing, I have placed you in danger.”
“But you don’t know that for certain. We are still thoroughly in the dark here. It’s only a guess that it was Elsworth… but who else could it have been?”
“I’ve been considering that. I’ve been considering every possibility, in fact. There is the matter of your bequest,” he answered. “What happens if you do not meet the terms?”
She wasn’t entirely certain. It wasn’t a question that it had occurred to her to ask because she’d had no intention of letting it get away from her. “There are other relatives of my mother’s to whom it would be passed, I assume. But I don’t even know them.”
“You don’t have to know them,” he said bluntly. “If the solicitor disclosed your name, your direction would not be difficult to obtain, would it? Either way, your relative or mine, someone tried to kill you yesterday. And if it was Elsworth, the timeline of our impending nuptials could very well prompt him to take more immediate action. That is why I lied to grandmother about the wedding, and why I continue to let her believe we will be waiting for the banns to be read and getting married in a more respectable manner. The truth, that we will be going to the church tomorrow, creates more risk in this situation.”
“Oh,” she said. “I see. How will we find out who was responsible?”
“I’m working on that. Trust me to see to it,” he said. “After we’ve married tomorrow, we’ll go and see this solicitor who contacted you and get all the particulars related to other potential heirs.”
Lilly nodded. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this tonight.”
He frowned at that before replying, “I’m not bothered… but it was a reckless thing to come here. For a multitude of reasons.”
There was something in his tone that seemed to highlight the intimacy of their current situation. She was in his bedchamber wearing only her nightclothes. He’d shed his coat and waistcoat along with his neckcloth and stood before her clad only in very form-fitting breeches and his shirt. It was open at the neck revealing strong, corded muscles and just a hint of dark, curling hair. Curiosity overwhelmed her. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a man without a shirt before. Admittedly, there had never been one she’d been quite so curious about though. If she were to be entirely honest, she’d traversed the corridor to his chamber hoping that something improper would occur.
“Am I in danger then?” she asked. The words came out in a tone that was both challenging and unintentionally provocative. It wasn’t what she meant to do. Certainly, she understood that they were in a potentially scandalous situation, but they were supposed to be married the very next morning. So it was only improper by a matter of hours, really. That she was attempting to reason with her own conscience was proof enough that she clearly knew better!
He rose abruptly and walked away from her, putting nearly the whole expanse of the room between him. When he turned back to her, his jaw had tightened, the muscle working there as he placed his hands on his hips. Eventually, he tipped his head back on a heavy sigh as if asking for some sort of celestial guidance. “I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you… but there is more than one kind of danger.”
“Such as being ravished like a heroine in a gothic novel?” she asked. “Is that the kind of danger you mean, Val?”
The muscle in his jaw ticked faster and he raised his head to look at her once more. His eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire, a passion, she had not yet seen from him as he stared at her intently. “That is one sort. What do you know about ravishment, Lilly?”
“Only what you’ve shown me thus far. Which is not nearly as much as I’d like,” she answered breathlessly. “But you could always enlighten me further.”
“Do not play games with me. I’m not some young pup to be led around by his nose… or anything else,” he replied.
That sounded vaguely naughty to her though she didn’t precisely understand it. “In the drawing room, you said that a man liked to purchase pretty things for the women in his life.”
“I did. And it’s true enough,” he said. “That velvet is rather fetching on you.”
“And how many women are you currently providing fripperies and frivolities for?” she asked. The moment the question escaped her, she hated herself for asking it. It was weak and desperate. Needy. It was all the things she’d vowed never to be and that she despised.
“Are you asking if I have a mistress, Lillian?”
“It’s a pertinent question on the eve of our marriage, don’t you think? I know you said you would not have them after, but you were gone all day… and, well, I wondered if perhaps you were making your goodbyes.”
He shook his head, his lips turning upward in a tight smile. “As to my whereabouts today, I was looking into some of Elsworth’s business contacts and, sadly, came up short of any truly useful information. In regards to your other question, about my mistresses or the lack thereof… now is certainly a better time to ask than after the wedding, I suppose. To answer your question, I do not currently have a mistress. I did have one until recently but we had parted ways before I made your acquaintance. And I’ve no plans to take another.”
“Until we decide we no longer desire one another’s company and embark upon our separate lives? Or just until you’re bored enough with me to look elsewhere?”
“I could promise you fidelity. I have already, in fact. But you’ve no faith in men, and your lack of it, based on your experience, is well-founded. The truth is, Lillian, I never imagined myself getting married… not for quite some time at any rate. My grandmother has effectively tied my hands on that score.”
“I understand that marriage to me is not a choice—”
“I never said that,” he interrupted her. “I had until the end of the year. I could easily have taken myself off to Almack’s, picked out some meek and overly-bred society miss who’d never challenge me, who would never break a rule, and proceed to have exactly the kind of marriage every other member of society has. But I never wanted a wife I would simply tolerate. Or who would tolerate me.”
“I rather think the point is that you didn’t want a wife, at all,” she retorted.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “I wanted a wife, Lillian. I just didn’t want any wife. And I knew from the moment I saw you in the park, your bare toes in the grass when it was far too cold for such a thing, that you were different… that no matter how far I go or how much I look, there will never be another you.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest and her breath rushed from her lungs at those words. It wasn’t love. He hadn’t offered her love. And the truth is they didn’t know one another well enough for love. But it seemed they certainly knew one another well enough for like… and perhaps for a bit of lust. “Do you think perhaps you could ravish me just a little bit? I am here, after all, and we were interrupted in the park yesterday morning, and i
n the garden yesterday evening, I might have panicked a little bit. But I think I rather liked what you were doing then.”
Chapter Thirteen
She’d done him in. Completely. Entirely. She’d robbed him of sense, of speech, and of will. Because there was nothing he wanted more in life than to give her precisely what she asked for. “I think I might be able to manage that.”
She blinked at him in surprise, as if his answer had been unexpected. “Oh, well, that was… how does one typically begin the whole ravishment process? Should I move to the bed?”
Christ above. If he went any harder, his breeches would do him permanent injury. “Not if the goal is only a little bit of ravishment.”
“What then?”
Val closed the distance between them until he was standing next to her chair, looking down at her lovely, upturned face and the thick braid of dark hair that cascaded over her shoulder to rest against the velvet of her wrapper. God above, she was beautiful, he thought. Perfect, even.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
When she reached out, he took her hand in his. Her skin was soft and delicate, the bones of her hands felt fragile in his much larger and stronger one. But there was a strength in her, a boldness, that left him awed by her. Closing his hand about hers, he pulled her up to standing. She fell against him, the softness of her breasts crushed against his.
Val lowered his head, claiming her lips. Somehow, he held himself in check and didn’t just consume her as his own desires demanded. He savored the kiss, noting her response. Every hitch of her breath, every sigh, when her hands clenched on his shoulders, or her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt—all of it was catalogued and stored for future reference.
Turning them slightly, he settled onto the chair and pulled her down so that she was draped across his lap. Then he reached for the ties of her wrapper, tugging them until the garment gaped wide and he could slip his hand inside. Only the sheerest linen remained between his palm and her naked flesh. He settled his hand at the curve of her waist, feeling the gentle flare of her hip below. Then, as he pulled his lips from hers and began to kiss the delicate line of her jaw, the soft skin of her neck just below her ear, his hand drifted upward. He felt her breath catch as he skimmed it over her ribs and then she let out a shuddering sigh as he cupped the fullness of her breast in his palm.
Barefoot in Hyde Park (The Hellion Club Book 2) Page 11