Scoundrel (24 page)

Lily didn’t say anything as those thoughts raced through his mind. She just kept staring at him with those large, beautiful eyes. Why he should feel so guilty, he didn’t know. He was the one who made the greatest sacrifice. After tonight she probably wouldn’t let him kiss her again, or so much as touch her luscious body. He’d just told her that his intentions were anything but honorable. He’d done the right thing.

Why did it feel so wrong?

This time he didn’t stop her when she moved to sit beside him. He braced his arms and kept his hands planted firmly on his knees. He wouldn’t even look at her to see if she was still crying. Tears would only weaken his resolve. Instead he concentrated on the sound the carriage wheels made as they rolled over the cobbled streets.

“You will find someone else,” he said at last. “I know at least a dozen men who would offer marriage if you did no more than smile at them.”

“I must remember to smile at someone suitable.”

“That isn’t what I meant, Lily.” He reached for her hand, but stopped when she shrank away from him. His hand hovered for a moment, then returned to his side.

Her words sounded as brittle as she looked, as if she might shatter at any moment. “I know what you meant. You needn’t say anything more on the matter. I understand everything very clearly now.”

You don’t understand anything
, he thought with a stab of regret. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot every damning word he’d said. He wanted to be the one she smiled at. He wondered if he would ever see her smile again.

“Have you—” Lily’s voice caught and she paused to take a deep breath. “Have you worked for Sir Malcolm very long?”

He knew why she changed the subject so abruptly. She was struggling to retain her control, to pretend that she understood why he would reject her so completely.

He didn’t dare shatter her pretense. “I began working for the War Department nearly ten years ago. I took over my father’s duties after he and my mother were lost at sea.”

Lily’s stiff composure slipped a notch as a startled look crossed her face. “Your parents worked for the War Department?”

“Only my father, but my mother often accompanied him on less dangerous missions. They sailed to the West Indies on that particular voyage, but the ship went down in a hurricane some three days from port. There were no survivors.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lily murmured. “It must have been very difficult for you to assume your titles and so many duties amidst such tragedy. The demands on you must have been overwhelming.”

He scowled at his hands. He’d forgotten how perceptive she could be. At the time his parents died there were endless offers of sympathy, but there were questions as well. Many came from his father’s solicitors, a dizzying array of financial matters. Others came from servants and staff, overseers and managers, tradesmen and nearby villagers, all anxious to know how his father’s death would affect their lives. He’d looked upon his War Department duties as a respite, a means to escape those demands for a time. He hadn’t even known Lily then, but she saw his life as clearly as if she’d stood at his side all those years ago. She offered her compassion and sympathy when she should despise him for spurning her affections only moments before.

He clenched his teeth. “Do you plan to attend Leathcote’s ball this Friday?”

She shook her head, her expression guarded. “Before all this happened, I accepted an invitation to a house party this weekend. It’s actually a meeting of the Egyptian Antiquities Society. Lord Holybrook hosts the quarterly meetings at his country house near Basildon. I spoke to my father and Sir Malcolm about the house party after you left this afternoon, and they both feel I will be safe at Lord Holybrook’s. The house is quite large, but there will be plenty of people about the entire weekend. Sir Malcolm thought it a good idea for me to get away from Crofford House for awhile.”

In this instance, Remmington agreed with Bainbridge. It seemed unlikely that anyone would attempt to harm Lily in a house filled with people, and it would do her good to get away from London. “When does this party start?”

“The day after tomorrow. Sophie and I plan to attend together, and I’m sure my father can act as our escort. After tonight, I—I assume you will ask Sir Malcolm to find someone else to take over your duties.”

He’d considered exactly that. He couldn’t be anywhere near Lily without wanting to touch her. Whenever they were alone he thought about much more than touching her. Tonight’s events had proved that he had little control over those impulses. Yet his reasons for remaining Lily’s ‘suitor’ hadn’t changed since this afternoon. He didn’t want another man anywhere near her. He knew it was selfishness on his part, but he wanted her to himself for just awhile longer. “I will continue to act as your escort, and I will accompany you to Lord Holybrook’s. How many will be in attendance?”

“Twenty or so, I should say.”

He nodded, completely uninterested in the answer. With the Stanhope girl along as an unofficial chaperon, there would be few opportunities to be alone with Lily. It shouldn’t be difficult to avoid meetings in a moonlit garden, or intimate conversations in the seclusion of his carriage. His frown deepened. “We’ll bring along some of Bainbridge’s outriders, and a few of my men as well. You will be with me during the day, and share a chamber with your friend Sophie at night. It does sound safer than keeping you in London right now.” The carriage rolled to a stop, and he pushed aside the curtain to see the lights of Crofford House. It was time to leave her. He didn’t want to. Tonight would be the first night they had spent apart since her attack. He wondered if the thought of spending the night alone in her own room frightened her.

Who would comfort her if she had another nightmare? Somehow he managed to sound unconcerned. “You are home, Lily.”

She began to move forward.

“There is just one more thing,” he said. She looked up expectantly, her lips slightly parted. God, how he wanted to kiss her. “If you prefer not to be at home tomorrow when Lord Allen calls, I would be happy to take you on a ride through the park.”

She looked wary of the offer. “I do not want to impose any more than I have.”

“It would not be an imposition.” He covered her hand with his own, giving in to his need to touch her. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings tonight, Lily. I would like another opportunity to be your friend.” He pressed a finger against her lips when she started to reply. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it. I will pick you up at two o’clock tomorrow.”

He opened the carriage door and helped her to the ground, then escorted her up the stairs to her house. A butler appeared in the doorway before they reached the landing.

“Is Crofford at home?” Remmington asked.

The butler nodded.

Remmington turned to Lily and lifted her hand for an impersonal kiss against her lace glove. “Make sure he bolts the door behind you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She continued to stare up at him, and he couldn’t seem to look away. All he had to do was turn around and walk back to his carriage. He tilted her chin up with one finger and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss against her lips. “Good-bye, Lily.”

Remmington pushed away from the table and leaned back in his chair, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. The light from the gently swaying lantern bathed his cabin in a warm glow. He swirled a glass of brandy in one hand, his gaze captured by the motion. The color of the brandy reminded him of Lily’s hair; swirling, sparkling firelight.

“You are in a very odd mood tonight, Captain.”

Remmington glanced at his dinner companion, then returned to his contemplation of the brandy. “I did not anticipate being anchored off the coast of Normandy tonight. My abrupt departure made me miss an important engagement this afternoon.”

“She will surely forgive you.”

He glanced up to see the sparkle in Sebastian Lacroix’s dark eyes, although a tankard of ale hid his grin. Lacroix knew his moods far too well, Remmington decided. He doubted if he even knew Lacroix’s real name. On the other hand, his guest couldn’t know that he dined tonight with the Duke of Remmington. Lacroix knew him only as Captain Smith. In the six years of their acquaintance they had developed an extremely odd friendship, each aware that it would be dangerous for either of them to know too much about the other. Remmington wasn’t even certain of Lacroix’s nationality. He spoke French as flawlessly as he spoke English. His dark brown hair and tall, slender build didn’t provide a clue. He could be a native of either country. His loyalty, however, lay unfailingly with England. Lacroix provided information that could only come from the highest offices of the French government, and he risked his life to do so. That was all Remmington needed to know.

“What makes you think my engagement involved a woman?”

Sebastian shrugged, a Gallic gesture that said nothing and meant everything.

Remmington scowled. “I doubt she will forgive me, but that is just as well. I cannot afford any entanglements.”

“Ah,” Sebastian mused. “Said with a deep sigh. That is a sure sign of love.” He considered Remmington for a moment then said, “I do not make light of your
affaire de coeur
, my friend. Indeed, I can readily sympathize. Do you remember the last time I went to England?”

“Almost a year ago, wasn’t it?”

Sebastian nodded. “While I was there I chanced to meet with a young woman that I hadn’t seen since we were both children.”

Remmington wondered if Sebastian realized that he’d let an important piece of information slip. It now seemed highly likely that Sebastian was an Englishman. He tried to substantiate his theory. “This woman is English?”

Sebastian nodded. “We were speaking of my broken heart, Captain. You could have the courtesy to pay attention.”

“Sorry.”

“Yes, well, this woman has grown into the most breathtaking creature imaginable. I couldn’t take my eyes from her. At the time I told myself it was nothing but the shock of seeing such a change in her, yet her wit and intelligence impressed me as well. Before I left England, I knew that I wanted to marry her. My good senses came to the rescue before I told her of my feelings. Her family is also in our line of work, and she knows the dangers involved. What did I have to offer her but a high probability of widowhood?”

Remmington went cold inside. Sebastian’s woman sounded frighteningly familiar. Now that he knew who decoded Sebastian’s messages, a meeting between the two seemed well within the realm of possibilities. “What is this woman’s name?”

Sebastian wagged one finger. “You forget the rules, Captain. No actual names. We shall refer to this lady by the name…” He scratched his chin, then the corners of his mouth turned upward. “Venus.”

Remmington clenched his fists. “What is the point of this story, Lacroix?”

“The point is that I missed the opportunity to marry the woman I love. It will probably be too late by the time I see her again. With her grace and beauty, there must be dozens of offers for her hand. She will likely marry another before I convince her to marry me.”

“Why don’t you send her a message?”

Sebastian frowned over his sarcastic tone but didn’t remark on it. “What I must tell her cannot be put on paper, and if all goes well I should see her in another month. But that is my problem, not yours. What I am trying to relate amidst your frequent interruptions is a bit of advice. I have never seen you morose over a woman, and I cannot help but think she means more to you than you would like to admit. It is easy for men like us to make ourselves believe we cannot indulge in the normal pleasures of a wife and family, but it is the very uncertainty of our futures that should make us hasten to embrace those pleasures. I would not like to see you make the same mistake I made, my friend.”

Remmington wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. He had but to speak her name and Sebastian would realize that Lily had them both tied in knots. He smiled to cover a sudden surge of possessive anger. “You needn’t worry on that score, Lacroix. I never make the same mistake twice.”

The clock struck one o’clock in the Earl of Crofford’s library the next day. Remmington was nowhere in sight. Lily unfolded the note that had arrived from him yesterday morning and reread it for the hundredth time.

Lily,

My deepest regrets, but an urgent matter arose and I will be unable to accompany you to the park. I will call upon you Friday, at one o’clock. Please be ready to depart for Basildon at that time.

R.

His urgent matter probably wore a skirt. So much for his offer of friendship. She released a frustrated sigh and tucked the note into the sleeve of her gown. The voice of doubt had whispered in her head the past two days, planting suspicions about everything Remmington had said to her that night in his carriage until she felt certain of only one thing. She meant nothing at all to him. He’d toyed with her as he toyed with every woman foolish enough to get too close to him. He was late. He had no intention of taking her to Basildon. She would never see him in this house again.

“Glaring at that clock won’t hasten his arrival.”

Crofford made the remark without looking up from the papers that lay scattered across his desk.

Lily smoothed the corners of the scroll that she’d tried for an hour to translate. She sat on the settee near her father’s desk, and the scroll rested on top of a pile of books. Her hand reached beneath the parchment and she nudged the books farther away to make more room for her work. Unfortunately, the stack was too tall and the books began to slide sideways from the small couch. They fell onto the carpet in a series of soft thumps. She leaned down and restacked the books into a haphazard pile on the floor.

Another five minutes passed as she stared unseeing at her work. The hatch marks weren’t flowing into words with their usual ease. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but the ticking of the clock. The soft, monotonous sound drove her crazy. Where was he?

“Oh, here’s a piece of news,” her father said. His finger tapped an ancient parchment, then he rummaged through a nearby pile of books. “Where is that book on Alexander the Great?”

Lily retrieved the volume from the toppled stack on the floor. “Another reference to Alexander?” She nodded toward his scroll.

“Eh, what?” He looked distracted by the question, an expression Lily found familiar. When the earl immersed himself in his work, the outside world ceased to exist. “Alexander? He’s off to Egypt to find a woman. Candice, Canyphe, something like that.”

Lily stretched her arm across the back of the settee, then rested her head on her arm. She looked at her father sideways. “Is he in love with her?”

“I don’t know. It’s all rather cryptic.”

Lily sighed. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

Crofford glanced up, tilted his head to one side to look at her, then straightened again and returned to his work. “Oscar says that Remmington took liberties with you the night before last at the front door, in plain view of anyone who might happen by.”

“He kissed me, Papa. It was just a small kiss.”

Her father’s pen made a scratching sound as it moved across a sheet of vellum. “I’m asking myself how you would know if a kiss was large or small.”

“He kissed me in his carriage, too,” she admitted. “That gave me a basis for comparison.”

“I see.” The scratching didn’t falter. “Are you encouraging this behavior?”

Lily rolled her head back and gazed up at the ceiling. “I don’t think so. He catches me off guard. I don’t suppose I’m
dis
couraging him.” She resettled her head until she was looking down at the settee. “Oh, I don’t know
what
I’m doing with him.”

The scratching stopped. Silence followed, then a tentative, “Falling in love, perhaps?”

Sideways, her father’s smile looked a little strange. “Is it terribly obvious?”

“When you mope about this way? Yes, I should say it is quite obvious.”

Lily sat up and rearranged her skirts. Remmington didn’t want her love, or even her affections. Yet he wanted to kiss her. He told her she should find someone else, and then he’d kissed her. It was a good-bye kiss. Nothing more. “You won’t say anything to him, or even hint at it, will you?”

“Of course not.” His pen moved across the vellum again. “However, I’d like to know his thoughts on the subject of this courtship.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” she muttered. A sound in the hallway made her shoulders straighten and her head turned toward the door. A moment later she was on her feet.

“Sit down, Lily. It won’t do to look so anxious.”

Lily sat back down and smoothed her skirts while her father responded to the knock. The butler appeared in the doorway, but Oscar didn’t have a chance to announce the visitor. Remmington strode into the room, then closed the door in the butler’s face.

“I have something for you,” he told Lily. He made his way toward her. For a moment she thought he’d brought her some sort of present, a peace offering to make amends for making her lie awake two whole nights, wondering what she meant to him. He withdrew a parchment from his jacket and placed it in her hands. “This needs to be translated immediately. We’ll take it to Bainbridge when we pick up his niece.”

Lily stared down at the parchment, then back up at Remmington.

“Go on.” He nodded toward the parchment. “Whatever’s in that thing is important. Bainbridge wants it as soon as possible.”

Crofford rose from his seat behind the desk. “Why don’t you work at my desk, Lily? I’ll go make sure your trunk gets properly loaded.”