Lyn Stone Read online

  The rug was Aubusson, of course, and there was a Wren-designed mantelpiece with—if he wasn’t mistaken—vases dating back to the Ming dynasty. Directly above those rested a portrait of some long-dead baroness with her fuzzy little dog. Looked as if it were done by Reynolds. Guy peered closer and nodded, recognizing the signature. The Barons Bradshaw had obviously lived well for some time.

  “My lord, Baroness Bradshaw and Mr. Bradshaw,” the butler announced.

  Guy looked over his shoulder before turning around slowly. So Clive had brought his mother with him. The dowager baroness certainly looked well able to defend her whelp if need be. Blond hair, obviously dyed, lay slicked from a center part and mostly confined beneath a fashionable black bonnet. That added a formidable austerity to her square face and haughty features. Her full lips looked carved from stone. Her eyes, the gray of granite, were granitelike. Unfortunate for her, Guy thought. Without the hardness, she’d be a handsome, if not pretty, woman.

  Though she was tall and sturdy instead of porcine, the corset beneath her traveling costume looked fit to burst from sheer indignation. He smiled at her and turned to the son, regarding him with the same innocuous expression.

  Clive bore a startling resemblance to his dam, though he had not yet attained her height or breadth. In a wrestling match, Guy would have put his money on the mama.

  Bradshaw’s hair was thinning, a blond more faded than his mother’s. Pomaded flat to his head, it gave way to curls around his ears and nape. When he ungloved his hands, Guy noted how soft and uncalloused they were.

  Here was a man who would hire out his villainy, at least the physical aspects of it. Had he? In the interest of holding rage at bay, Guy thought it best not to dwell too deeply on that at the moment.

  “Welcome to you both on behalf of Lady Lillian. Won’t you be seated?” Guy turned to the butler. “Lockland, that will be all, thank you.” He was not about to order up refreshments for these two.

  “And who might you be?” the woman demanded, her tone imperious, her face as pruned as the snobbish butler’s. Guy wondered whether they might secretly be related.

  “I am Duquesne, madam. Lady Lillian’s husband,” he said with no little satisfaction at the abrupt change of expressions on their faces.

  Bradshaw glared. “What do you mean, her husband!”

  Guy shrugged, took another sip of brandy and exhaled with pleasure at the pleasant burn. “I assume that question is rhetorical. We were married last month in London.”

  The old baroness sank into the nearest chair and looked a bit out of breath. But it took her precious little time to recover. She frowned fiercely at him. “Not the Duquesne who…”

  Guy smiled and raised his snifter in a mock toast to himself. “One and the same, madam.” He watched as she shot a frantic frown at her son.

  Clive said nothing, merely glared at Guy through narrowed eyes. The fellow looked perfectly evil when he did that. Probably practiced in a mirror to obtain just the right effect. Guy figured he could match it easily, but chose not to at this point. Instead he sipped his brandy and maintained his pleasant attitude. He had promised Lily prudence.

  “I cannot stay here,” the dowager baroness groaned.

  Guy almost retorted that no one had asked her to, but held his tongue, mainly to see what Clive would do next.

  “Nonsense, Mother. Lily will want us here. If for nothing else, to help celebrate her marriage.” He bit off the last word as if it had a bitter taste.

  The rapid clatter on the tiles outside the parlor prevented Guy’s pithy reply.

  A small sandy-haired boy, definitely Lily’s son, dashed past the guests and halted directly in front of Guy.

  Huge blue eyes, their gaze assessing, traveled over Guy’s face, down to his boots and back up again. Small lips quivered for a second, then firmed. Little fists clenched, unclenched and clenched again. No doubt, the lad wondered just what his mother had foisted on him in the way of a stepfather.

  In Guy’s experience, one began as one meant to go. Respect should extend both ways. The boy was a peer and looked rather deserving of it at the moment.

  Guy held out his hand. “Lord Bradshaw.”

  After but a second’s delay, Lily’s son clasped hands and shook as firmly as any man might. “Lord Duquesne.”

  Nothing else. No indication by word or deed that they had never met before. Had Lily warned him to hold his questions? They were certainly there in his eyes. She had obviously told the boy something, for it was clear he knew of the marriage.

  It was also evident that he was in no hurry to greet their guests.

  Guy smiled kindly at the boy, hoping to communicate that they had a common purpose, which was to make Lily happy and to keep her safe. He wondered how she had explained her absence.

  The smile must have sufficed, for Beau turned abruptly and made a short bow to the dowager. “Grandmother. Uncle. Have you come to visit for a while?” The tone of his voice was much too formal and did not offer any great encouragement to them to stay, Guy noted.

  “Why, yes, we have,” Clive answered for the both of them. “And how are you faring today, Beauly?”

  The small shoulders stiffened. “I do not prefer that byname, sir.”

  Guy interrupted. “Oh, I’m certain Clivey’s only just shed his own. He probably doesn’t understand how quickly one with your sudden responsibilities matures. Permit me to suggest that we all address you correctly as befits your station. Henceforth, you shall be Bradshaw, if that pleases you.”

  Beau nodded once. “It does, sir.” He glanced at Lily with a slightly apologetic nibble of his lip. “Except for my mother, who may call me as she likes.”

  “Of course,” Guy agreed with a smile for his wife. “Mothers must retain that privilege.” He leaned down a bit and said in a stage whisper, “Wives, too. She calls me Guy.”

  “This is an absurd conversation and most inappropriate,” the dowager announced. “You, boy, are impudent. Children should be seen, not heard. I am retiring to my room now.” She snorted as she rose and flapped a hand at Lily. “Send me up a tray. I shall not be down until noon.”

  “She has a room?” Guy muttered, more or less to himself.

  “Without delay, ma’am. Rest well.” Lily then looked at Clive as if she expected him to follow suit.

  “Lily, I would speak with you alone. Immediately,” he demanded.

  “Indulge a new bridegroom, if you would,” Guy said by way of preventing any such tête-à-tête, “but I would consider that highly improper.” He raised one eyebrow and added, “I am plagued with the fault of jealousy, you see. A failing, I know, but there it is.” He finished his brandy and firmly set the glass on the mantelpiece next to the Ming vase.

  Clive rolled his eyes and shifted impatiently. “Well, at least send the boy upstairs!”

  “A lord, ousted from his own parlor by order of a guest, sir?” Guy shook his head. “If you would have private speech with me concerning your, uh, concerns over the marriage, then we might take the matter into another room.” He lowered his chin and stared at Clive from beneath his lashes, as evil a look as he could summon. He had practiced his, too. “Or perhaps…outside, if you prefer?”

  He saw that his meaning had been taken. Both Lily and the boy were swinging gazes to and fro as if watching a match of tennis. She appeared worried, but Guy ignored that. Her son looked fascinated. Guy understood that. Boys liked a good scrap.

  In fact, he awaited Clive’s answer with an eagerness he had not felt since he’d fought Billy Whitsun over the favors of a barmaid when he was fifteen. His blood was up and his fists itched for action. If they must suffer a viper in their midst, Guy wanted it to be a frightened viper.

  “Forget it,” Clive snapped. “We shall discuss this later.”

  “At your pleasure,” Guy remarked dryly, carefully disguising his disappointment as Clive turned on his heel and stalked out of the parlor.

  Little Beau had covered his mouth and his shoulders were
shaking with glee.

  Lily frowned. “Behave yourselves, the both of you! This is no matter for levity!” She pointed to the couch and issued an expectant look. That was a mother’s expression of admonishment if Guy had ever seen one. And he certainly had in his younger days.

  He made a wry face at Beau that Lily was not privy to as they marched in unison to the appointed place and took seats side by side. He was in league with a seven-year-old, about to take a scolding for what amounted to a schoolyard challenge.

  Beau kicked sideways, gently nudging Guy’s leg in what seemed a gesture of support. The little fellow had obviously suffered this before and knew what to expect.

  Lily shook her finger at them in turn. “Now then, I want no more of this tweaking Uncle Clive’s anger, Beau. He is our guest and must be afforded civility at all costs. You are not to lord it over your grandmother or your uncle. That is not considered good form at all.” Her gaze leveled on Guy. “And you, sir, are not to issue any threats or ultimatums.”

  Beau leaned closer and whispered, “What is that? Ultimatums?”

  “If-you-do-this, I-will-do-that sorts of things,” Guy explained. “Ultimatums.”

  “Oo-oh,” Beau said, dragging out the word. “If you insist on being a boor, I shall pound you?”

  “Precisely. You have an incredibly quick mind, Bradshaw!”

  Beau grinned. “Thank you, Duquesne.”

  “Hush! Both of you stop this! Beau, go back to the nursery and take up your nines. Twenty repetitions and no slacking, do you hear? Guy, I shall like further words with you!”

  “You’re at the nines already?” Guy asked Beau, truly astounded. The boy was young for the task of multiplication.

  “I get stuck on times-seven,” Beau confessed with a sigh.

  “Sixty-three. That is a hard one to remember.”

  “Go!” Lily snapped, pointing to the door. Guy could see she was barely containing a laugh. He strongly suspected the canny Beau could see it, as well.

  When the boy had clattered up the stairs, she plopped down beside Guy. “Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.”

  “Clive’s retreat? The man’s a yellow-livered coward.”

  Lily laughed, leaning her head back against the damask as if exhausted. “I was speaking of you and Beau. Nothing like a common threat to draw two blokes together, eh?”

  “Aha, a devious plan! And I never even suspected.”

  “Worked rather well, wouldn’t you say?”

  Guy met her gaze and loved the laughter in hers. “Beau’s a fine boy, Lily. He has your wit.”

  “And Jonathan’s wicked sense of humor and lack of respect for authority. That, you will have to help me mind. He’ll be incorrigible before he’s ten if we allow it free reign.”

  “Incorrigible has its advantages,” Guy argued, laying his arm along the back of the couch. “Your lad is a marvel. Did you see how he wanted to fire away at me when he stormed in here? But he held back.”

  “I must tell you, he was not that taken with the idea of a stepfather, but I told him he must trust my judgment and wait until we were private with you to voice any questions. He did promise, and Beau’s as good as his word.”

  “I’ll speak with him as soon as he finishes his lessons.” Guy shook his head in wonder. “My God, he has a handle on that temper, doesn’t he? I am impressed to hell and gone. I like him, Lily.”

  “We shall see how long that lasts when your wills clash. Now would you mind terribly if we repair to our rooms? If I do not sleep soon, I cannot vouch for my own temper.”

  “Good idea. I expect we’ll need our wits about us once our guests have fully digested what our marriage means to the grand scheme Clive might have cooked up for you.”

  “Yes. If indeed he is the cook,” Lily said with a protracted sigh. “Did you think he was at all surprised that I was here instead of in London?”

  “Hard to judge since the news of our marriage gave him such a turn.” Guy had to admit he entertained a few doubts in Clive’s direction now that he’d met the man. But who else could have instituted such a daring bid to have Lily locked away in a madhouse? Who else would profit by that?

  He stood and offered his hand. “Come. Show me where to lay my head. This business of being a husband is damned tiring thus far.”

  She pulled herself to her feet and shot him a coy glance that was pure Lily. “But I trust you’re not yet bored with it.”

  He drew her to him for a hug, encouraged when she did not pull away. “Not in the least. I haven’t had this much excitement in days.”

  “And this day’s only just begun,” she said, moving easily out of his arms and leading him out of the parlor. “Wait until you see where you have to sleep.”

  “Knowing young Bradshaw, I’d guess that won’t be in the master’s chamber.”

  Lily laughed merrily and led him up the stairs.

  Chapter Six

  Lily showed Guy to her own room since he had rightly guessed that Beau had appropriated the master chamber. She had allowed that after Jonathan died, mostly because of the convenience to her. She did not want to sleep there, and it was adjacent to hers with an adjoining door. If Beau wakened with nightmares, she would hear him. The nursery was located on the floor above and used as his schoolroom.

  Guy strolled through her bedroom smiling, hands clasped behind him as he looked around. “Very ladylike. Of course, you realize I shall require a frilly nightgown to fit in here.”

  Lily laughed. “Close your eyes and you won’t mind the ruffles. The bed is more comfortable than those in the guest rooms.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Lumps in them to discourage long visits? Fortunate in view of the current guest list, I expect.”

  “It has not discouraged them before this. They’ve lived here almost constantly since Jonathan died, and not by my invitation.”

  “You should have tossed them out,” Guy said.

  “Hindsight proves that’s so, but as I said, now I suppose we should keep Clive here rather than have him elsewhere concocting further schemes to get rid of me. Here at least we might observe his actions, perhaps note the correspondence that goes out so we might learn what he’s up to next.”

  “We shall see,” he muttered noncommittally.

  She reached to smooth out a wrinkle in the coverlet at the foot of the bed. “Why don’t you lie down for a few hours? I must see to Beau’s lessons and go over the menus for the day with Cook. Then—”

  “Lily…” His look was admonishing and rather impatient.

  Words caught in her throat as he approached and reached for her hand. She had guessed this would happen. That he would insist on his husbandly rights the moment the opportunity of privacy presented itself. Well, it was to be expected, she supposed.

  She sighed, wishing she were more rested. Well, this would probably only take a few moments. Still, something told Lily she could be wrong about that. This man might not be quite as perfunctory as Jonathan had been.

  There was something deliciously wicked about the way he smiled at her when they had discussed this duty. She prepared to surrender and have done with it.

  But instead of setting about it with the heated kisses she was expecting, he merely held her hands in his and chided her with a look.

  “What is it?”

  “You must be the one to rest,” he said. “Those circles beneath your eyes look like bruises. Do you want to leave the room because you think I have it in mind to press my rights?”

  “Oh. No…that wasn’t the reason. It’s simply that there is so much that needs doing this morning.” She might have known the moment she resigned herself to his consummating their marriage immediately, he would veer off in another direction entirely. The man was definitely an unpredictable sort.

  In fact, even as tired as she was, Guy himself looked almost as tempting as the soft mattress. She needed distraction, but other matters were certainly more imperative at the moment. “I should see to Beau. You stay and s
leep.”

  He tugged her around to the side of the bed. “Beau will survive your absence for a few hours and I’m certain anything your cook prepares will prevent us starving. Go to bed.”

  “Remember, Clive is on the premises. What of Beau’s protection?”

  “I’ll take care of that. Since Beau rose for the day just before we came riding in, we can hardly require the little fellow to go back to bed while we catch up on our rest. You are the most tired. I’ll see to him, then wake you in the afternoon.”

  Lily shook her head and pulled her hand from his. “No, he doesn’t know you. He will be—”

  “He will be fine,” Guy insisted. “This will give me a chance to become better acquainted with him.”

  “But what of his questions? He knows virtually nothing yet of why we married. In company he was polite, but who knows what…”

  Guy smiled and brushed a hand over her hair. “Not to worry. Beau and I will get on fine.”

  “But suppose Clive or his mother—”

  “You are not to fret about them. Lock these doors and you will be safe. I promise you on my life that your son will be looked after. You have my word, I won’t let him out of my sight for a moment.”

  “Well…” Lily eyed the plump pillows longingly. How long had it been since she’d made use of those? Her eyelids drooped and her muscles felt leaden. She frowned up at Guy. “Are you certain?”

  He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, then rested his mouth for a moment against her brow. “Sleep well, Lily. I have it all in hand.”

  She welcomed the small intimacy, loving the warmth of his gesture, his gentleness and consideration. He made it so easy to forget what he was capable of when he was crossed.

  Then he released her and strode to the hall door where he turned and shook a finger. “Mind you lock up. I’ll knock when it’s time for you to wake.”

  When he had gone, Lily turned the keys in the locks and quickly slipped out of the riding habit. Still clad in the chemise that had belonged to his mother, she crawled beneath the coverlet, snuggled into the feather-stuffed pillows and sighed with relief.