Authors: Elizabeth Michels
“I had hoped to show you the collections myself,” Devon replied in a grumpy fashion.
Lillian then understood. He wasn’t upset she had seen his collection; he was upset by his mother’s actions. “She means well, Devon.”
He shrugged. “I know. It’s only that she tends to turn my life on end when she visits. It’s quite annoying to be mothered so completely once one is grown.”
“I think she’s lovely. But then I’ve been alone so long, perhaps…” Lillian’s voice trailed away as the image of Mama floated through her mind. Turning back to Devon she asked, “Did you know she was friends with my mother?”
“No, she never mentioned it.”
“Yes, they were the best of friends in their youth.” She smiled wistfully at the tree branches stretching across the path as they drove beneath them.
“Lily, it wasn’t my intention to bring up such a painful topic for you.” He shifted the reins into one hand and gave her fingers a squeeze with the other. Their fingers tangled together, neither wanting to let go.
“Mama’s been gone from my life for a very long time. It’s easier to speak of her now, although I don’t believe I will ever cease missing her.” She looked down at their entwined hands lying on her knee. “I’ve begun to feel that there is some happiness to be found in the future. I’ve spent so much of life in mourning…” Yes, perhaps there was happiness to be found here with him.
“I’m glad to hear it. I don’t like to think of you wrapped in sadness forever over the loss of your parents.” He shook his head and chuckled, his eyes glittering as he looked over at her. “How do we always circle back to these serious subjects?”
“I’m not sure,” she said on a giggle. She was at ease with him. Happy. Was that what she felt for Devon—happiness? Or was it something more? Did she love this man? She was studying his face for clues to her feelings and wondering about his feelings when she saw his eyes narrow.
“Elandor,” Devon grated all of a sudden.
“What was that?” she asked, not following the path of his thoughts.
“The man riding this way on horseback,” he murmured in a low voice only she could hear. “He is the Marquess of Elandor. Do you mind if we leave the path for a few minutes? I don’t wish to speak to him just now. We can walk down to the bank of the Serpentine just there.” He nodded with his head toward a grassy slope leading toward the water.
“Certainly,” she returned as he pulled the phaeton onto the grass and stopped beneath a large oak. “May I ask why you are avoiding this Marquess of Elandor?”
“It’s nothing.” He motioned for the boy riding on the back of the phaeton to take the reins as he leaped down. Circling the rig, he came around to her, lifting her to the ground. “He wishes for my participation with some group in the House of Lords,” he continued as he led her away from the vehicle.
“And you are against this?”
“Parliament is but a room filled with old men all in disagreement. No benefit seems to come of it.” He led her down the grassy slope toward the banks of the Serpentine. “And I have the shipping business to contend with. In my free time I want to discover unknown plants, map untraveled lands, and better the world in some way, not sit and chat with a room full of men.” He gestured to the city surrounding them. “There’s no place for me here.”
“I see.” Her brows were drawn together in thought. He wanted to run from his responsibilities as a duke and representative of his country? But he had so much to offer. He was a brilliant man. He couldn’t allow his frustration to drive him away. “And you don’t believe the House of Lords could benefit from your experience with other cultures?”
He grumbled in response, looking away.
“Devon, from what I have seen of the gentlemen of the
ton
, the House of Lords could use your mind if our country is to survive the day, let alone the week.”
He chuckled. “That may well be true, Lily.”
“Just as I have decided to stop living surrounded by grief, perhaps it is time you start living surrounded by society. Show them you’re brilliant instead of perpetuating this silliness about being mad.” She paused to smile at him. “Distasteful though it may be.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded with a wry grin. “Although I believe I would rather spend this morning with you than in discussions over whether or not the Royal Navy should be allowed new cannons.”
“Indeed. You have many days after this one to be the Duke of Thornwood this country requires of you. Today I require you to escort me over there to see those swans.”
“With pleasure.” He pointed toward the water. “Look at those two swans near the bank.”
“Yes, they’re beautiful creatures, aren’t they?” She watched as one swan preened its white feathers before straightening and nudging the swan at its side.
“That they are,” he replied, although she could feel his hot gaze on her instead of on the swans in the lake.
She tried to focus on the nature around them to keep from blushing at his attention. “I think those two swans are friends. They look as if they’re having a lovely conversation. It’s about the chill in the water today, I’m sure.” She laughed, turning to look at Devon.
“Those swans have likely been swimming together in chilly waters for some time,” Devon mused.
“You think so?”
“Of course. Swans mate for life. Each cob—the swan gentleman—finds some enchanting, similar feathered pen, and together they spend the remainder of their days swimming about chatting over the weather.” His eyes danced as he added to her tale of conversing birds.
“That’s rather romantic.”
As is this moment
, she finished in silence as she allowed her hand to slip farther around his arm.
“Yes.” He leaned in to murmur close to her ear, causing her skin to prickle with awareness. “And occasionally, I’ve heard tell, one of the females plucks a few feathers from the male, causing him to follow her all over the lake until he finally falls into her trap and they live together happily ever after.” He straightened with a mischievous grin covering his face. “All due to her theft of a few feathers.”
“Ah, and does this
gentleman
swan
blackmail this
lady
swan
along the way around the lake?” She held her breath. What was he saying? Happily ever after had the general meaning of forever. Or had it simply been talk of swans?
“I believe he might. Swans are prone to blackmail, you know.”
That response, unfortunately, didn’t answer any of her questions. Her heart pounded in her ears. “Devon, where is this leading?”
“I was hoping to that grove of trees over there where I might kiss you without being seen,” he offered, pointing to a nearby grouping of trees.
“No, I mean this…whatever this is between us.”
“I’m not sure, if I’m to be honest.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand where it rested on his arm. “Does this mean I cannot interest you in the grove of trees?”
“Do you desire to…um…live like the swans?” she asked, not sure how to say the words that were currently shredding her nerves.
“What I desire…there are certain caveats between me and what I desire. It’s rather an involved story and I’m presently unsure of the ending,” he replied, his eyes dimming from their jovial state a moment ago.
“Where does that leave us?” Her voice came out as a scratchy whisper because of her fear of hearing the answer to her question.
“I don’t know, Lily.” He turned, dropping her hold on his arm as he faced her. “All I know is that I want nothing more on this day than to be here with you, or rather in the previously mentioned grove of trees,” he teased.
Why wouldn’t he take this conversation seriously? If he desired only her lips, her body, then that’s what she would give him. She glanced around and saw no one in their area of the park at this time of day. Rising to her toes, she kissed him. It was a brief kiss—all she dared in the public park—yet when their lips met, delicious warmth filled her.
She had meant to prove a point with the kiss. She had planned to then tell him to continue their discussion without the mention of kisses within groves of trees. Yet, now with the taste of him on her lips, all she could think of was kissing him again.
He slid his hands to her waist, pulling her closer. “Lily, I’m as confused by this as you are. I was angry with you for so long, and now…” He shook his head. “Can we not enjoy one another’s company today and decide what it means later? I need time to sort out some things.”
She nodded in agreement, still wanting more answers but knowing he didn’t have them, either. What did he need to sort out? His life could need sorting but so could his feelings for her. What did he think of her now in the absence of anger? Fondness, perhaps friendship? For her part, her feelings were a bit stronger. She loved him.
Oh dear, she loved him!
She wasn’t sure when it had happened but she knew it was true. But what did he feel for her? She was sure she would discover the answer to that question soon enough. For now, she was curious what he would do once in the shelter of that grove of trees.
Lillian entered the house, humming an indistinct tune. Her heart was filled with sunshine, swan’s songs, and Devon. Pulling off her hat and gloves and tossing them on a table, she grinned at her reflection in the small mirror. “Nathaniel, are you at home? I’ve had the most marvelous morning!” She took a few steps toward the rear of the house, continuing, “I must tell you of it.” The words died on her lips as she rounded the corner into the library.
Solomon stood by the window facing the front garden. His dark hair was slicked back and seemed to melt into the dark collar of his coat, making him look like a tall shadow clinging to the draperies. Nathaniel rose from his seat at the desk when he saw her enter. He looked pale. What had happened?
“Lillian, do come in,” Nathaniel offered in a tight voice, gesturing to a seat opposite his desk.
She entered the room, walking with slow steps to the chair he indicated. Her smile had seemed fixed on her face only moments ago, but now it fell as concern took its place. “Nathaniel, is something wrong?” When he was silent, she turned her attention to her other brother. “Solomon, has something happened?”
She waited in silence as Solomon turned and went to the table filled with decanters in the corner, pouring a glass of dark liquor. When he was done, he replaced the crystal stopper and swirled the liquid in his glass before the light from the window. Turning, he said, “Lillian, I have reason for celebration today.”
“Celebration of what, exactly?” She couldn’t breathe. Her palms began to sweat as she sat looking at Solomon. He was pleased about something, too pleased.
“You have cause to celebrate as well, dear sister. But as it’s unacceptable for ladies to drink liquor, I will toast for you.” He lifted his glass and took a swallow.
“Why?” she asked, dreading his answer.
“Today is a joyous occasion, Lillian. For today we celebrate your betrothal.”
“My what?”
Nooooo
, her heart screamed, yet she didn’t twitch a muscle.
“Your betrothal,” Solomon repeated. “Really, Lillian. It’s the only reason you’re here in London this season. You would think this would not come as such a surprise.”
“And who does this betrothal arrangement involve?” Her throat was tightening as she spoke. They had gotten rid of Erdway. Who could it be?
“Lord Harrow, of course.” He took a drink from the glass in his hand. “He’s been admiring you from afar all season, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.” Lillian blinked in surprise over the information.
“Well, he has. We have discussed matters and entered into an agreement only this morning.” Solomon’s dark eyes glimmered with excitement. “I’ve sent word for Josiah to come to town immediately. I’m sure Harrow will not want to wait long after announcements are made.”
“How can this be?” she muttered. “Lord Harrow doesn’t even know me.”
“I don’t see how that affects things.” Solomon shrugged one shoulder and took a sip of his drink. “You look pleasant enough.”
“If he’s to be my husband, I would like to think our marriage is based on more than pleasant looks,” she grated. Her husband. This Harrow was to be her husband? Her mind flew to Devon. She didn’t want this. She wanted a life with Devon. How could this be happening?
“There are no
ifs
, Lillian. He will be your husband. I have a signed contract.”
“This isn’t a business deal, Solomon. This is my life!” she pleaded, knowing all the while it would do no good.
“Marriage agreements are serious business, Lillian. Your interference forced me to push this issue. And now all is settled.”
“Solomon, I can’t marry Lord Harrow. We won’t suit.”
“He is a titled gentleman of relative means. What’s not to suit?”
“There are more important things in life than money!”
“Were you hoping for a love match, dear sister?” Solomon asked, laughing.
“Solomon!” Nathaniel warned from his seat behind the desk.
“No, I only thought…” Lillian’s eyes burned with unshed tears. She would not fall apart here. Not in front of him.
“You were!” He chuckled again, walking closer to her. “You were hoping for a love match. Did you truly think the Mad Duke was going to swoop in to save you?”
“How do you know about…” she began, but Solomon cut her off with his cool tones as he leaned over her chair.
“You don’t know about him either, Lillian. Did he tell you he’s been involved in business with me for a year now?”
What? Devon in business with Solomon? “No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, I’ve built quite the fleet for his shipping business. He’s terribly indebted to me at the moment. You didn’t know? He won’t save you from this, Lillian. Not at the risk of his family’s welfare. He may be a duke, but he has no funds, no influence. Not like Lord Harrow.”
The world seemed to be crashing around her feet. “He never mentioned…”
“We’ve met on numerous occasions to plan the growth of his shipping venture. He’s mentioned expeditions in his future…” He leaned closer to her to whisper, “A duchess has never entered the conversation.”
“That’s enough, Solomon,” Nathaniel cut in, rising from his seat.
Solomon smiled as he continued, his soft words hanging in the air mere inches from Lillian’s ears. “The Mad Duke of Thornwood is but a man entertaining himself in London until his ship leaves the harbor. Did you think you were more important than that? Foolish girl.” Solomon straightened and turned away from her. “Nathaniel, have her at Bixley House tomorrow night for her betrothal ball.” He set his empty glass on a table and moved toward the door. “Good day, Lillian,” he offered over his shoulder as he left the room.
***
“Thornwood, is there a reason you look so pleased this evening even though you’ve lost at every hand of cards?” Steelings asked, leaning close so all of the Angry Rabbit Pub wouldn’t hear their discussion.
“Life is good this day, Steelings. Let us leave it at that,” Devon stated as he stared at his cards, not truly seeing any of their markings. He couldn’t pull his mind from the morning he had spent with Lily in the park. Nor could he wipe the grin from his face.
Lily.
The name repeated in his mind like a sweet melody. He had walked around town in a daze all afternoon before winding up at the card table with his friend.
“Very well. We could go up front to have a drink if you feel I’ve taken enough of your money already,” Steelings teased.
“Perhaps that would be wise.” Devon laid his cards on the table and looked over at Steelings with a mock grimace. “My losing streak does seem to be stretching out a bit.”
“After you, then,” Steelings said, offering the table of gentlemen around them a nod of farewell.
Devon went to the only open table, which was regrettably near the busy bar area, and sat down, signaling for a drink. Steelings had just joined him when a group of already foxed gentlemen staggered in the front door.
“It’s a bit early to be in their condition, isn’t it?” Steelings remarked in an undertone as they accepted glasses of scotch.
The men swarmed the bar area at Devon’s back like a hive of angry bees. “Only a few drinks here, then we’ll go visit Madame Amelia and her girls,” a gentleman instructed to an answering round of cheers.
“Gin all around! Oh, take your time with the pouring, why don’t you?” a voice called out from somewhere in the pack at the bar.
“I say, would you like to come home with me for the night?” one gentleman asked.
“Let ’er pour the drinks first, Harrow,” someone called out. There was a round of laughter.
Harrow. Devon should have known that particular gentleman would be involved with this group. He shot a look of annoyance at Steelings. At least the group of idiots wouldn’t be here long. If Devon had ever been so obnoxious when foxed, he couldn’t remember it. He smiled at the irony of that thought.
“Harrow can do as he chooses this night. Once the leg shackle goes on, he’ll be chained to his home,” someone called out.
“Chained to my bed, you mean,” Harrow returned, to the sound of more laughter.
Good God! Some poor lady had agreed to marry Harrow? She had his sympathies. Devon shook his head, trying to shut out their conversation in order to talk to his friend. However, Steelings seemed to be distracted by the scene as much as he.
“And you’ll win the bet over her as well. Most of the
ton
has a stake in that wager! Think of the winnings, Harrow!”
“There’s more to be won here than a little bet, although I do enjoy winning,” Harrow replied, chuckling.
Devon’s fingers gripped the glass in his hand until it threatened to shatter. How many ladies had wagers placed on the books over their betrothal status this season? Surely more than one. There had to be more than one. He turned, looking up at the crowd leaning on the bar.
“How’d you do it, Harrow? Miss Phillips is quite the ice queen!”
Devon’s vision blurred. How could this be? How had this happened?
“She may be an ice queen now, but I’ll have her melting as soon as the banns are posted.” Their cheers and laughter filled Devon’s ears. “I entered into an agreement with her brother this morning. The prim Miss Phillips will be mine in a matter of weeks.”
Devon couldn’t hear beyond the blood coursing through his ears. He couldn’t see beyond the bastard currently leaning against the bar discussing his Lily. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the desire to rip Harrow apart as a lion would on the African plains.
His chair slid back with a screech across the wooden floor. He rose and took two steps toward Harrow in an instant, curling his fingers into the frilly cravat at the man’s neck. Devon pulled him closer with his left arm while his right fist met Harrow’s eye with a sickening thud.
Devon reared back and pounded him again. Harrow crumbled to the floor, yet Devon lifted him up again to slam him into the bar. There were yells as hands grasped at his shoulders, but he shoved them away.
He leaned close to the half-unconscious man, watching blood trickle from his nose as he grated, “You need to watch your mouth when speaking of a lady.” His elbow shot out to collide with the shoulder of one of Harrow’s friends who was trying to intervene.
Harrow tried to smile around his swollen lip. “She will soon be
my
lady. I can say whatever I please.”
“Never,” Devon murmured as his fist collided with Harrow’s jaw once more. The man’s head hit the bar with a loud crack.
Harrow fell to the floor as Devon released his hold on the man’s cravat. Harrow rolled to his side, a moan escaping his lips. Devon stepped over his limp form, stalking toward the door. He needed air.
“Thornwood!” Harrow called out, causing Devon to pause. “You should know, I won’t be bested. Not at sea and certainly not here in London.”
Devon’s fists clenched. He turned, prepared to pummel the man again, just as Steelings reached him.
“Thornwood, it will do no good. Let’s leave,” Steelings murmured as he shoved Devon toward the door.
With one final glare at Harrow’s form on the floor, Devon swung open the door and stepped out onto the street. How could he stop Harrow? He couldn’t allow this to happen to Lily. And it was entirely his fault. His dealings with Harrow went back years. He swore under his breath. This was no coincidence. Steelings matched his pace. They walked in silence until they reached the corner.
“He deserved that. It was a nice hit, the one that bloodied his lip. Nasty cut,” Steelings mused. “But what are we to do now?”
They turned the corner and continued down the street. Steelings kept shooting glances in his direction, but Devon said nothing.
“Thornwood? Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”
“To track down Lord Bixley and see what can be done to stop this,” Devon stated, stepping out to cross the street.
“Would you like company?” Steelings called out after him, still standing on the walk.
“Not tonight, Steelings. Not tonight,” Devon returned as he stalked off into the growing darkness, his heavy footfalls echoing off the stone walls of the buildings as he passed.
Harrow’s declaration of not being bested had hit a nerve. They’d been in competition at sea for years with Harrow always finding some way to win—usually by rather dishonorable means. Devon was always left picking up the pieces and trying to mend them back into a profitable business to provide for his family. He shook his head free of the thought as he turned onto the street where the Bixley residence sat among a row of stately homes.
He wished now he’d never attended the events this season. If he’d never danced with Lily, spent time with her where they could be seen, none of this would have happened. Of course, he couldn’t stay away from her. That much he knew.
Lily… How was he to save her this time? He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. There was only one course of action he could see. When had his life become so complicated? He raised a hand and knocked on the door to the Bixley home, wincing at the sting of his knuckles as he did so.