Scoundrel (21 page)

Remmington and Lily answered in unison.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I see.” Harry looked confused.

Lily frowned at Remmington, then turned her attention to Harry. She wanted to avoid the subject of her attack. “Other than the night of the Ashlands’ ball, I don’t believe I’ve seen you since the Antiquities Society meeting in January, Lord Gordon. The speech you gave that day was so very interesting. How is work progressing on that papyri of yours?”

“Deucedly slow, if I must say so.” Harry filled his plate from a platter of roast beef. “Of some three thousand words, I’ve not been able to transcribe more than a handful. There is one that appears suspiciously often. I’m almost certain it’s the name Ramses, but none of the letters seem to apply consistently to any other words, even though the letters in Ramses are quite common throughout any language. But there is a word that seems without a doubt to be the word ‘and.’ “

“That sounds like a wonderful start.” She congratulated herself over the successful turn in the conversation. “You must take heart in such important progress.”

“I was that far a month ago, Lady Lillian. Now I’m at an absolute impasse. Without another breakthrough, I’m afraid my work may come to naught.”

Lily twisted the stem of her wineglass between her fingers and stared down at the dark liquid. “Wasn’t it Lord Alfred who said the Egyptians were quite praiseworthy of their pharaohs in all their documents?”

“Hm. Can’t say as I recall,” Harry admitted.

“Perhaps it was Lord Poundstone.” She took another sip of her wine and pretended to be distracted. “Those conversations are always so very difficult to follow at the Society meetings. But I’m certain I heard one of those gentlemen remark that Egyptians often followed a pharaoh’s name with praises such as ‘live forever mighty one’ or ‘live forever beloved of’ some god or another.”

“That’s very true. In the Greek version of the Rosetta, ‘live forever’ consistently follows the pharaoh’s name. It seems that would also be the case in my papyri.”

Lily suspected she knew the key to Harry’s papyri, but she struggled for a way to make the idea sound as if it was someone else’s. “The ‘R’ sound is very strong, is it not? Papa says the sound carries over quite clearly in his translations from Greek and Latin manuscripts. If you think the Pharaoh’s name is Ramses, then perhaps the ‘R’ would reoccur in the word ‘forever’.”

“Indeed!” Harry exclaimed. “You’ve given me a fresh angle, Lady Lillian. I’ll bring my papyri along to the next meeting of the Antiquities Society and show you my progress.”

“I would enjoy that very much, but I’m afraid I really don’t understand much about papyri and that sort of thing.” She smiled apologetically. “I usually attend the meetings only as a favor to my friend, Sophie Stanhope. Sophie seems truly absorbed by all those peculiar languages, although I have yet to understand why. They just look like so much nonsense to me.”

“They are quite fascinating,” Harry said in earnest.

“If you like, I could explain some of the fundamentals at the next meeting. They’re very simple, really. I’m certain you would catch the gist of it eventually.”

“That sounds lovely, my lord.” Lily sighed and fluttered her fan. “I shall certainly look forward to your explanation, although I fear you may grow frustrated with me. Sophie says I just don’t have the interest required to fully understand foreign languages.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t grow frustrated with
you
, Lady Lillian. If anything, you will probably grow bored with my explanations.”

“Your food grows cold, Gordon.”

Harry gave Remmington a considering look, then he shrugged and turned his attention to his plate.

Lily reached for her fork, but Remmington caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You must not tax yourself with such weighty issues, my dear. They are better left to scholars such as Lord Gordon. Why don’t you tell me about Signór Olivetti’s recital. What pieces did he perform?”

She couldn’t remember. Not when he looked at her with such a tender expression in his eyes. It was an act, she reminded herself. He’d just warned her not to reveal too much of herself to Harry. Now he was affecting possession, also for the sake of their audience. “Signór Olivetti performed parts of
Fidelio
.”

“Ah, Beethoven,” he said. “A favorite of mine. I am sorry I missed him.”

When his hand slipped away from hers, she missed the casual contact. She shouldn’t let his touch affect her so deeply, yet how on earth could she guard against it?

The remainder of their meal passed in silence. Between Remmington’s constant attention and Lady Caroline’s insolent remarks, Lily knew she was the subject of nearly every murmured conversation at the table. She wondered what would happen if she simply threw back her head and screamed her frustration. She’d probably be hauled off to Bedlam.

“I believe it’s dead.”

Remmington’s quiet announcement startled Lily from her thoughts. She glanced up at him, then her gaze moved back to her plate and the torte she’d just shredded with her fork. She placed her silverware on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “I was just making certain.”

The corners of his mouth turned upward. The other guests began to leave the table and he stood up to offer her his arm. “Lady Keaton has musicians and refreshments at the pavilion in the center of the gardens, but I’m sure we can find someplace a little more private. I believe it’s time we had a talk.”

Lady Keaton’s gardens were a fairytale of silhouetted trees and flowers. Softly illuminated Chinese lanterns were hung among the greenery and scattered throughout the gardens. Lily couldn’t imagine a more romantic setting, nor anyone she would rather be with in this place than Remmington. She decided the night was fast turning into a cruel joke.

Just outside the dining room, a mazelike path led to the pavilion in the center of the gardens. From there Lily assumed they would go deeper into the gardens, away from the crowd. His long strides indicated an impatience to get her alone, but she knew he had nothing romantic on his mind. More than likely, he wanted privacy to deliver another speech about rules and proper behavior.

“Are you late for an appointment?” Her voice sounded breathless. His pace made her nearly run to keep up with him. He slowed grudgingly. “I think we could manage to have our conversation within sight of the other guests.”

“Don’t be a fool. Nothing we have to say to each other is fit for an audience.”

Lily came to an abrupt halt. She kept her feet stubbornly planted despite the tugs he gave her arm. “I am not a fool.”

“You’re not stupid,” he said agreeably. “But even an intelligent woman can act like a fool at times.”

Her hands became fists at her sides. “May I ask just when I proved myself so ignorant?”

“I would rather not start an argument where anyone might happen upon us.” He glanced over his shoulder. “But since you asked, your conversation tonight with Harry would be one example. Without a moment’s hesitation, you more or less gave him the answers to a problem he’s worked on for a month. Don’t you think he will begin to wonder how you came to such an important conclusion when foreign languages supposedly leave you baffled? I would see through that blunder in the blink of an eye, just as I saw through your fool’s act the day we discussed philosophy. You may be good at ciphering, but the ladies on Drury Lane can rest easy. You are no great actress.”

Lily lifted her chin. “I made the solution sound as if it came from other sources. Lord Gordon is unlikely to wonder over anything.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “but what about Lady Caroline? To be successful in your charade, you should be inconspicuous, yet you made yourself a threat to Margaret Granger with that Osgoode business, and now to Caroline Samms by encouraging Bryant’s attention. With those two pillars of society turned against you, it is simply a matter of time before other women start to watch you more carefully. The ladies of society make it a point to know their rivals’ faults and secrets.”

“Lady Caroline made me lose my temper.” She bowed her head. He was right. At dinner she’d mooned over his smiles and grown flushed under his dark gaze. All the time he was scrutinizing her every action, his mind clear of the emotions that seemed to befuddle her senses in his presence. She felt a tear fall silently to the ground. “Am I not allowed one mistake?”

“Not when your life is at stake. To survive in this business, you must never make yourself the object of so much attention. Unflattering attention, at that.” He fell silent for a moment. “Lily? Are you crying?”

She brushed at her tears but refused to meet his gaze. “Am I not allowed to have feelings, either?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Remmington!”

Lily’s startled gaze flew past Remmington. Margaret Granger and Caroline Samms walked toward them at a sedate pace, but she could see the spark of anger in Margaret’s eyes. Remmington pushed her behind his back, probably to give her a moment to compose herself before she faced Margaret’s wrath.

“Good evening, Lady Margaret, Lady Caroline,” he murmured.

Caroline looked pointedly over Remmington’s shoulder. A smug grin curved her lips. “Oh, Margaret, I really should make sure Bryant knows where I am. If you will excuse me?”

“Of course.” Margaret’s eyes never left Remmington.

Caroline turned to walk back toward the house and Lily thought it an ideal moment to make her own exit. Remmington had his back toward her, and Margaret was paying her little attention. She took a few hesitant steps backward, and then a few more. A small voice inside her head said she should stay with Remmington, that it would be a mistake to leave his side.

The look on Margaret’s face made her decide that it would do no harm to wait for him near the pavilion. Remmington might even appreciate her thoughtfulness in giving him a moment of privacy with Margaret. She didn’t deceive herself very long with that wishful lie. More than likely he would add “cowardly” to her list of faults. The sound of Remmington’s deep voice covered the soft crunch of her slippers against the gravel pathway as she turned and walked away.

“I thought you would be at Almack’s tonight, Margaret.”

“Why, whatever gave you that idea?” Margaret asked.

“I was at Almack’s just last week and will certainly attend many more times before the Season ends, but dear Lady Keaton has her famous dinner only once each Season. I could not bear to disappoint her.”

The path took an abrupt turn and the sound of Remmington’s reply faded away. The strains of a waltz grew louder as she neared the pavilion, along with the muted sounds of laughter and conversations. The path widened and she could see the lights of the pavilion, a raised platform designed to look like a Greek temple with a score of false marble columns all around that supported nothing but the starlit night air. Lily intended to stay in the shadows of the path, but changed her mind when she saw a couple walk toward her. She pasted on a smile and ventured forward.

She nodded to the couple as they walked past, then looked for a less noticeable place to await Remmington’s arrival. Tall hedges formed a large, circular wall around the pavilion, with evenly spaced openings that led to more paths. Most of the guests stood near the pavilion, but a few wandered around the manicured flowerbeds that were laid out in intricate detail to form a miniature map of the vast gardens. Many considered Lady Keaton’s topiary mazes the finest in England, and there were rumors that Lady Keaton installed the map after Lord Northfield lost himself in the mazes for an entire day. Lily had no intention of exploring the mazes, but she caught a flash of color from the corner of her eye and she began to edge toward one of the openings. She caught only a glimpse of the man before she ducked into the greenery, but she knew only one person who would wear a canary-yellow suit to a dinner party.

The path came to a T and she turned right. A moment later, she found herself facing a wall of greenery and the end of the false path.

“There you are. Whatever are you doing here, Lady Lillian?”

Lily whirled toward the sound of the familiar voice.

She couldn’t see Lord Allen’s face very clearly in the shadows, but his bright yellow clothing seemed to glow against the dark hedges. When she realized that he blocked her only exit, her heart began to beat faster. She was trapped. Her nerves didn’t feel any calmer when she reminded herself that Lord Allen wasn’t a suspect, that Sir Malcolm had removed him from the list because he’d remained at the Ashlands’ ball until dawn.

“Lady Caroline said this path led to the house. The night air is a little chilly, and I left my shawl at the door.” She looked behind her at the wall of greenery. “It seems I took a wrong turn.”

“I shall be happy to escort you to the house,” Lord Allen said, as he extended his arm. “We can’t take the risk of you catching a chill.”

Lily hesitated, then took a step forward and placed her hand on Lord Allen’s sleeve. She could see his face more clearly now, the look of pleasure in his bulging eyes. It took every bit of her courage to smile at the man. “Lead the way, Lord Allen. We must rely upon your excellent sense of direction.”

Lord Allen covered her hand with his own, trapping it against his arm. “My dear Lady Lillian. There is something I must tell you before we return to the house.”

Lord Allen’s gaze lingered on her chest, and the lecherous stare made her skin crawl. His grip on her hand tightened until it hurt. Every shred of her self-assurance disappeared. She jerked her hand from Lord Allen’s grip and took a step backward. At that moment she would give almost anything to see Remmington appear behind Lord Allen.