Lyn Stone Read online

  She sighed and tightened her arms around his waist. At least he would be well compensated for his trouble. And she had to admit, it felt good to rest in the shelter of his arms.

  How warm his chest felt next to her face as she burrowed closer. His scent surrounded her, filling her head with all sorts of imaginings she should not be having. Bare skin, the taste of it on her lips, the heady heat of his mouth on hers.

  She could hear his heart beat right next to her ear, which lay pressed to his shirt. Like a brand, his palm and strong fingers burned into her rib cage as he held her fast.

  Now and then she sensed his mouth rest lightly against the top of her head. Not for the life of her could she sleep in this position, though her eyes could not seem to remain open.

  He halted and she forced herself to push away from him and sit up. Enough of this. She must be strong, assert herself again and show Duquesne that he would not be required to do everything for her. If only she had begun to think for herself long ago instead of relying on those around her, she might have been better prepared for what had happened to her. She had no one to blame but herself for her complacency, if one didn’t count Society’s expectations of women.

  Dawn was just peeking over the horizon, its light filtered by clouds that threatened rain.

  “We are here,” he said softly.

  They had obviously arrived at Edgefield. Before them stood the rear entrance of a huge, sprawling manor. The house was built of the same local stone as Sylvana Hall. Though much larger than her home, this building looked centuries older. Ivy covered much of the lower half. The adjacent gardens were overgrown and unkempt. The dooryard lay unswept and the horses stamped fretfully on the uneven ground.

  Guy released her and dismounted, helping her down without any great ceremony, as if he did so every day. “Come, let’s raid the kitchen. You must be famished. Then we’ll go up and find you something to wear. Can you stand?”

  She realized he still held her upright, his hands upon her waist. Impatiently she pulled away. “Of course I can stand. I could have ridden alone if you had allowed me.”

  “O-oh, snappish, are we? Well, I don’t wonder. A bit of food is what you need to set you right.” He took her hand and pulled her along the flagstones that served as a walkway to the door.

  They entered a room that seemed straight out of the Middle Ages with its enormous fireplace and hanging pots. Thankfully, she saw that someone had built a fire there. Lily headed straight for it, chafing her hands and holding them out to feel the warmth. She still felt chilled from her half dunking at the river’s edge.

  She looked around as Guy greeted a heavyset woman who seemed vaguely familiar to her.

  “Good heavens, is that blood?” the woman demanded, pointing at Guy’s leg.

  “It’s nothing,” Guy told her. “A scrape that hardly broke the skin. Won’t even need stitches, though some of your special salve wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “Let me see to it!” the woman insisted.

  “No, no, I’ll tend it directly when I change clothes. First, I’d like you to meet someone.” He turned to Lily. “Mrs. Sparks, this is my wife, Lady Lillian. You’ll remember her father, Vicar Upchurch? Could you scare us up a bite to eat? We’ve had a long night’s ride.”

  The older woman gaped at her. Lily almost laughed thinking what a sight she must make with her men’s clothing and wild, cropped curls. “Good morning, Mrs. Sparks. I am delighted to see you again.”

  She recognized the woman now as one of her father’s old parishioners. It had been years since Lily had attended the village church at Edgefield. After her marriage, she and Jonathan had gone to services in Maidstone.

  “My husband speaks very fondly of the capable staff here at Edgefield,” she said to the woman. Guy had never mentioned a soul who resided here other than his father and had said precious little about the earl except to tell her he was insane. Lily hadn’t a clue how the place was staffed or what quality service was afforded—certainly not a like number of the twenty-six hard workers employed at Sylvana Hall—but it never hurt to begin a new acquaintance on a positive note.

  Ah, she saw she was right. Mrs. Sparks snapped her mouth shut and managed a quizzical smile. “Thank you…my lady. If you and Guy, uh, his lordship…would have a seat in the dining room, I’ll—”

  “Could you do up a tray for us, Mrs. Sparks?” Guy interrupted. “We will breakfast in my chambers. Cold meats and bread, a bit of cheese and some strong coffee would be perfect. I’ll be down to fetch it when I’ve shown my lady to her room.”

  The woman’s eyes rounded even more as her head bobbled in an uncertain nod. “Of course. But I could cook you a—”

  “No time for a full meal. We have business at Sylvana Hall and should be off there as soon as possible.”

  Mrs. Sparks darted him a look that said she needed to speak with him alone. Lily looked back to the fire, affording them a modicum of privacy, though she fully intended to listen.

  The woman’s whisper was quite clear. “Sir, he’s not awake, but perhaps you should—”

  “I will be back later today or first thing tomorrow to see him. This other matter is of some urgency. I must ask that you tell no one of our arrival here this morning. Should anyone inquire, you had word of my marriage several weeks ago and were ordered to keep the news to yourself. Agreed?”

  “You know I won’t talk out of turn. I never do. But I would like to be kept informed so I know what’s going on with you.”

  “You’re the dearest of the dear, Sparks.” Lily heard the smack of his kiss and the resulting grunt of disapproval from the recipient.

  “Off with you then,” Mrs. Sparks grumbled in a near whisper. “And see to your lady wife. His Nibs will be that upset you didn’t bring her in to meet him if he finds out you were here.”

  “I doubt he’d know her from the bedpost, but I’ll introduce them soon. Meanwhile, keep up the good fight.”

  Then he raised his voice and called to Lily, “Come with me, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart? Lily grinned in spite of her exhaustion and went to join her husband. How strange it seemed, like a dream where nothing made any sense at all, following a man she hardly knew through a rambling old house up to his private chambers. Even more unusual that she felt no dread, not even a jot of fear, only a light-headed sort of curiosity.

  She obviously needed sleep, but that was unlikely at this juncture. When he offered it, she took his hand and went up the stairs with him like a child joining another in exploring a maze.

  “Your home away from home,” he said without apology as they entered an enormous sitting room fitted with furniture left over from the previous century. “Charming, don’t you think?” he quipped. “Make yourself comfortable while I fetch the clothes. Riding habit?”

  “Yes, that would be perfect,” Lily said, still looking around her, noting the lighter rectangles of wallpaper where paintings had been removed. There was a noticeable lack of finery here, as if everything with any great value at all had been sold off.

  She had expected as much, having heard rumors of his financial hardships. Still in all, the place appeared quite comfortable, if unassuming. She sank into a heavily upholstered chair and closed her eyes, not worrying for a moment about fouling the fabric with her still-damp breeches or her muddy boots. A warm fuzzy blanket drifted over her and she felt him tuck it around her neck.

  “Back in a moment,” he said.

  She heard a door close, snuggled more deeply under the blanket and drifted off to sleep.

  When a sound jarred her awake, she looked up to see him standing in front of her.

  “Sorry to wake you so soon, but I thought you might want to wash up a bit and change before we eat.”

  Lily nodded, brushed aside her covering and reluctantly pushed out of the enveloping chair. Still groggy, she slid out of her coat and began to unbutton her waistcoat while Guy laid a dark blue velvet riding habit across the nearby couch.

  Though wri
nkled, the garments were of classic cut. The shirtwaist of white had a simple ruffle at the neck. The hat that he perched on the arm of the couch was in the style of a gentleman’s top hat, made feminine by a band of tulle tied at the back and left to hang loose. Peeking from beneath the rest was a filmy ruffle of white. Probably a chemise, she thought.

  He tossed a pair of matching gloves of dyed leather onto one of the cushions. “There you are. Sorry, I could find no riding boots.”

  “These will suffice until we reach Sylvana, thank you.” Lily halted in unfastening her shirt, aware for the first time that he was observing her rather hungrily as she undressed.

  He smiled wickedly and shrugged. “I suppose I must wait in the other room?”

  Lily rolled her eyes and laughed. “I suppose you must.”

  “I’ll just go and change myself then.”

  He headed for a door that was closed, not the one they had entered on arrival. “Here’s the dressing room that connects to my bedchamber. I’ve brought a ewer of water in there. In the interest of haste, I thought you’d want to wait until you reach Sylvana Hall to have a proper bath.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, sounding too formal for the occasion, she knew. “That was most kind. I’ll only be a moment.”

  He bowed and left, exiting the way they had come in.

  Lily removed the small vials she had taken from Brinks and put them safely away. Then she peeled off the remainder of Brinks’s clothes and hurried into the riding habit. She then went into the small dressing room, found the ewer and basin and dashed water on her face. It refreshed her somewhat, though she still felt as if she had cobwebs in her head.

  He had put out brush and comb, so she made use of them, bemoaning for the first time the unflattering riot of curls left by her clumsy hacking with Brinks’s knife. The former length and weight of her hair had served to help control its unruly mass. Now that it was short, it spiraled every which way.

  “You look like a poorly shorn lamb,” she muttered to the mirror and stuck out her tongue at her image.

  A knock on the door opposite the one she had entered interrupted her grim appraisal. “Yes?”

  “Breakfast!” he announced.

  Lily scurried to join him, gazing quickly around the other chamber of his suite, the bedroom. Beside the window sat a small table set with two plates laden with slices of ham, bread and a pot of jam. Steaming cups of coffee beckoned with a delicious aroma.

  She noted that he now wore fresh linen, buff breeches and a coat of dark green gabardine that complemented a finely embroidered waistcoat. His scuffed boots needed a shine, but otherwise, he appeared quite presentable. Handsomer than ever, if she were perfectly honest with herself.

  Lily studiously ignored the large four-poster bed that stood close by. Not that she was all that eager for her conjugal duties, she insisted to herself, but she would dearly have loved to crawl onto that deep feather mattress and sink into oblivion for about twelve uninterrupted hours.

  But she must get to Beau, she remembered. He would be worried about her sudden absence. And worse, Clive might already be there.

  Guy held out her chair. “You look lovely in blue,” he told her.

  Lily laughed self-consciously at the flattery. “Said like a wary husband with an eye to the future. No need for pretty lies with me, sir. I just looked at your mirror in there.”

  “Then you have a grave need for spectacles if you don’t agree with me,” he quipped as he joined her at table and they began to eat. In spite of his reassurance, he kept looking at her hair throughout the meal.

  As she sipped the last of her coffee, Lily tugged at one curl that kept dangling below the rest. “I made quite a mess of it. I fear a knife is not the perfect instrument with which to effect the latest coiffure.”

  He held up one finger as he rose and strode over to his bureau. When he returned with a pair of scissors, Lily held up her hands and began to protest. “We have no time for this.”

  “Won’t take a moment,” he ordered. “Just let me fetch the brush and comb.” He did so and stood behind her, one hand at her nape as he pulled the brush through her hair. “A nimbus of gold,” he said softly. “That was my first thought when I saw it gilded by the lamplight.”

  Lily remained silent as he brushed, feeling the boar bristles gently massage her scalp, the touch of his fingers on her neck sending tingles through her. Then he stopped, took the comb and separated a section. She heard a snip, then another. Oh, Lord, he was cutting off more! But instead of jerking away to prevent it, Lily let him have his way. It could hardly look worse than it did.

  “There you are. You’ll be all the rage. Your friends will faint with envy and men will fall at your feet in admiration. Have a look.” He handed her the small mirror that matched his brushes and comb.

  Lily laughed with delight. “What have you done?” She combed her fingers through the feathered strands and fluffed it at the crown. “I quite like it!” She grinned up at him. “You have missed your calling, sir! If you could speak French, I daresay you’d make a fortune at this.”

  “Mais oui, madame. Merci beaucoup.” He tweaked a curl beside her ear. “It seems a shame to cover that masterpiece, but it is time to don your hat and be off again. Are you up to riding five more miles this morning?”

  Lily jumped up and rushed through the dressing room to gather the hat and gloves. “Right you are. Beau will be that worried about me, I’m certain.”

  Rejuvenated by her breakfast, Lily could hardly wait to get home. In the back of her mind she worried about how her son would take the news of her marriage, but was nevertheless eager to reach Sylvana Hall.

  Surprisingly, Guy seemed even more anxious to reach there than she. “Do you think he’s in danger even now?” she asked.

  “I believe we should take no chances by leaving him to face company alone,” he replied. “If the coach that passed us belonged to your brother-in-law, he should be arriving at the Hall very shortly. It was traveling slowly, but even with the delays, it will be there soon if that’s where it was headed.”

  “It should be interesting to see Clive’s reaction to my presence at Sylvana Hall if he believes he left me locked away in London,” Lily said with a bitter smile.

  “Interesting, at the very least.”

  They went out through the kitchens where a grubby lad held the reins of their borrowed mounts. She noted the mare was now outfitted with a sidesaddle. Guy lifted her up, saw her settled and then swiftly mounted the gelding.

  Without another word, they rode hard across the meadow and through the woods that lay between Edgefield and Sylvana Hall. Even the dreary misting rain did nothing to dampen Lily’s eagerness for this last, most urgent leg of their journey.

  They topped a hill that backed Sylvana Hall. Almost the entire estate could be viewed from that high vantage point. Guy motioned toward the road that wound onto the property from the opposite direction. A coach was visible in the distance, perhaps half a mile away. “We need to be there before he arrives,” he told Lily. “You should find your son and keep him close until we’ve had a chance to speak with him about the marriage. Can you have him avoid his uncle until then?”

  “No great chore in that,” she replied. “He’s not overly fond of Clive and the feeling is mutual.”

  “I’ll deal with Clive Bradshaw. Shall I send him packing?”

  She frowned as if uncertain. “I have always heard you should keep your enemies close.”

  “Good point,” he replied, sending her a smile of approval. The girl had a head on her shoulders.

  “You won’t…kill him, will you?”

  He frowned, still looking at the slowly approaching vehicle on the road. “Not immediately.”

  She cast him a doubtful look, then seemed to come to some inner decision. “Do I have your promise?”

  Guy nodded.

  “Then let’s ride,” she ordered, and took off at a gallop.

  By God, he liked a woman with nerve and L
ily had more than her share of that. When he thought of all she had endured, he decided it was enough to fell most men he knew.

  He regretted she had been witness to his darker dealings, but he’d had no choice at the time but to dispense with those ruffians.

  When they reached the back entrance to the Hall, she dismounted without waiting for his help. Once inside, she guided him through to the foyer. “You might wait here or in the parlor,” she said. “I’ll be down directly as soon as I’ve seen my son.”

  “Take your time. I expect the little fellow will be wanting an accounting of your absence. What will you tell him?”

  “Not the whole truth, surely,” Lily said as she removed her hat and brushed her curls off her brow with the back of her wrist. “I shall think of something not quite so frightening.”

  She shot Guy a warning look. “You have a care. I doubt Clive will be thrilled with our news.” She hesitated, then added, “But promise me you’ll be…prudent? At least until we know what’s afoot?”

  “Madam?”

  They both turned. The butler, Guy guessed. He was fifty or so, nearly bald, dressed all in black and looking as if he had been sucking lemons. Very proper indeed. He regarded Guy with a raised brow.

  “Lockland, this is my husband, Viscount Duquesne. Mr. Bradshaw is due at any moment. As soon as you greet him, show him into the parlor where his lordship will receive him.”

  The butler appeared almost as dumbstruck as Mrs. Sparks had at Edgefield. Guy wondered what reaction Clive Bradshaw would show when informed of Lily’s elopement.

  What Guy most desired was a confrontation that would give him an excuse to wipe the beautifully tiled floors with the scoundrel.

  He winked at Lily, then strolled into the parlor and left the door standing open.

  While he waited, he helped himself to a dollop of brandy from the cut-glass decanter on the long table against the far wall. The appointments in this room alone were probably worth the entire houseful left at Edgefield.