Scoundrel (39 page)

Remmington didn’t reply. A madman threatened to kill her, yet she’d feared for her husband’s life? He stared up at the ceiling and wondered if she would ever know that a part of him did die when he saw Allen’s gun at her head. It was a very small, cynical part of his heart that thought itself incapable of love.

Lily awoke the next morning in her room at Remmington’s town house. She didn’t remember much of their journey to London, only that Remmington held her in his arms the entire time. She’d drifted in and out of sleep, overcome by an exhaustion more of the mind than the body. Of their arrival at the town house, she remembered nothing at all.

The familiar room gave her a sense of comfort. Nothing in the lavender-scented bedchamber had changed during her absence. She found her striped pink gown still hanging in the armoire. She found Remmington in the library with her father and Sir Malcolm. The gentlemen all rose to greet her.

“Lily!” The earl took a step forward, then stopped. “You are unhurt? Allen didn’t harm you?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Papa.”

Remmington wasn’t as reserved. He crossed the room to give her hand a brief kiss, his expression concerned. “You should rest today, Lily. I didn’t wake you because I thought this meeting might be too upsetting for you.”

“I feel quite fine,” she assured him. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to hear what my father and Sir Malcolm have to say about… the incident yesterday.”

His brows drew together in a frown. “I don’t want you upset again.”

“Nonsense. I am stronger than you think, my lord.”

The nod he gave her seemed reluctant, but he led her to his seat behind the desk and stood at her side, one hand resting on the back of her chair. That seemed to signal her acceptance in the group.

“Remmington just told us what happened at the Brass Ring,” the earl said. “I cannot believe George Allen was at the heart of this dreadful business.”

“He must have slipped out sometime during the Ashlands’ ball, then returned again without notice,” Bainbridge surmised.

Crofford shuddered. “Good God. I let him into my house. Lily was upstairs the entire time. I cannot believe he had the nerve to ask for my permission to court her!”

Bainbridge’s brows drew together in a puzzled frown. “What I cannot understand is why he didn’t ask permission to court Lily before he attacked her. She was clearly unattached at that time.”

“Who knows how a madman’s mind works?” Remmington asked. “I can assure you both that he was insane.”

“I believe I will have another talk with Lord Ashland,” Bainbridge mused. “He said that he played cards with Allen until shortly after dawn the night of his ball, but I did not think to ask what time the game started. I will speak with Allen’s servants as well. They might know something that could shed more light on this situation.” He twisted the silver handle of his cane in an absent rhythm, his tone speculative. “Have you notified the authorities of Allen’s death?”

“I thought it best to inform the two of you first,” Remmington replied.

Bainbridge nodded. “I will take care of the details and notify the King’s Bench. The inquest will be little more than a formality, but I will be happy to attend if you wish.”

“I would appreciate your support,” Remmington said. “It seems obvious that Allen was our man, but until you verify his whereabouts on the night of Lily’s attack I intend to keep a close eye on my wife. I won’t risk her safety again. With our recent marriage, no one will think it unusual if we do not go about in society for a week or two.”

“I agree,” Crofford joined in. “We cannot be too careful until we know for certain.”

“I happen to disagree,” Lily said. “Lord Allen was obviously the man behind the mask. I don’t see why I should be kept under guard, when there is no longer—”

“You won’t be locked away,” Remmington cut in. “We will simply stay close to home until we make certain the man who attacked you is dead.” He gave her a look that said he would not be argued with on the matter.

Lily decided that staying in seclusion and spending time alone with her new husband was nothing to complain about. She gave him an agreeable, wifely nod.

As things turned out, Remmington and Bainbridge were right about the inquest, and she’d had little reason to worry. The lord chief justice and his magistrates arrived at the town house two days after their return to London. Lily was serving afternoon tea to Sir Malcolm and her husband when Digsby announced their arrival. Remmington made it clear that she was to excuse herself from the gentlemen’s company. She did so with great reluctance.

“Your Grace?” Digsby asked.

Lily felt a surge of guilt as she lifted her ear from the library door and whirled around to face the servant. She kept her voice low so the men inside the library wouldn’t overhear her. “Yes, Digsby?”

“You do not need to remain here, Your Grace. I will inform you when the meeting adjourns.” “The gentlemen might want more tea,” she said. “I’ll just wait here in case they do.”

“That is my duty, madam.”

From inside the library, she heard a muffled voice. “
I’m certain this is nothing more than a formality, Your Grace. If you would be so good as to explain the events that led up to the incident
.”

Lily glanced up in time to see Digsby straighten, as if she’d caught him straining to hear the justice’s words. “Afraid you might miss something, Digsby?”

He didn’t bat an eye. “Yes, madam.”

“Very well.” She stepped to one side of the double doors. “Today we shall share this duty.”

They stood side by side at the doors, listening to the proceedings inside the room. Jack wandered by on his way to the kitchens, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of the duchess and Digsby with their ears pressed to the library door. When Lily caught sight of him, she lifted one finger to her lips and waved him on his way with the other hand.

In the end, Remmington was absolved of any responsibility for Lord Allen’s death. Allen was judged temporarily insane for reasons unknown. If the officials thought it odd that Allen happened to be at the same secluded inn as Remmington and Lily when he turned irrational, they made no mention of the curiosity. Nor did anyone raise the question of what had provoked Allen’s attack. Lily surmised that there were certain benefits to be had when one bore a title second only to the royal family’s. The entire incident was written off as a clear case of self-defense. The dreaded inquest was over in less than an hour.

Just before the library door opened, Digsby stepped away to retrieve the visitors’ cloaks and hats. Lily pretended to rearrange the large bouquet of roses that stood on a polished oak table nearby.

The judge and magistrates made their farewells while Remmington stood in the doorway of the library. After they left, he turned his gaze to Lily. She thought he looked a little suspicious of her lingering presence in the hallway.

“Sir Malcolm and I have a few matters to discuss, Lily. Why don’t you send a message to your father that the inquest is over.” One brow lifted, but otherwise his expression didn’t change. “I’m sure you are already aware of the outcome.”

Lily didn’t deny the accusation. She gave him a weak smile before he disappeared behind the library doors. She took a step forward, then froze in midstep when the doors opened again. The smile she plastered on her face felt guilty as sin.

“Now would be a good time to send that message, Lily.”

She lowered her head and brushed some nonexistent dust from her gown. “As you wish.”

He waited until she turned and walked toward the sitting room. She heard the soft click as the library doors closed again behind her. She whispered an order as she passed Digsby in the hallway. “I want to know every word.”

Half an hour later, Digsby presented himself in the sitting room with an ornate silver tea set balanced on the tray he carried. “Your tea, madam.”

“Is Remmington still in the library?” Lily hoped her husband would want to share whatever he had discussed with Bainbridge. Her hopes crumpled when Digsby shook his head.

“His Grace and Sir Malcolm departed for their club.” He placed the tray on a table near Lily, then took several steps backward until he stood in the doorway, ready to take his leave. “His Grace did mention that he would be dining at home tonight at the usual time.”

She gave him a broad hint. “How unfortunate that I could not be present at the meeting between my husband and Sir Malcolm. I am more than a little curious about what they discussed.”

Digsby straightened his jacket with a sharp tug, took a step backward into the hallway, looked in both directions, then stepped back into the room.

Lily smiled. “Digsby, you may close the door if you wish.”

“Madam, in this house, open doors offer a greater degree of privacy than closed ones.”

She inclined her head in a solemn gesture. “You are correct, of course.”

“Had Her Grace been present at the meeting behind the library doors, she would know that Sir Malcolm informed His Grace that Lord Ashland is on a hunting trip in Scotland and will not return for another week. Until that time, he cannot verify that Lord Allen did not leave the Ashlands’ ball at any time on the night of Her Grace’s first attack. However, Lord Allen’s servants did inform Sir Malcolm that his lordship was not at home the night Sir Malcolm’s guards spotted a man lurking outside Crofford House.”

“I see.” Lily felt a profound sense of relief. Her life was finally her own again. Yet she also felt a new wariness settle itself into her heart. Remmington no longer had a reason to stay so close by her side. “Is that all I would hear, assuming of course that I had been present at this meeting?”

“No, Your Grace. You would also know that Lord Allen’s footman delivered a note to Lord Osgoode’s residence the evening before that gentleman’s death. The next morning, Lord Allen left the house very early for what he referred to as a ‘dawn engagement.’ “

Lily sat down on a small brocaded chair as the meaning of Digsby’s words took hold. Osgoode had died at the hands of George Allen, with every possibility that she was the cause.

“His Grace also mentioned that he felt the matter at a close,” Digsby added. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she heard a note of compassion in Digsby’s voice. “He expressed his relief as well, that you could put your worries about the affair to rest.”