Scoundrel (41 page)

“You are surly because your wife loves you?” Trevor held up his hands in a baffled gesture. “Tell me I’ve missed something in your explanation of the problem.”

“She only thinks she is in love. What she feels for me is nothing more than affection, and perhaps a certain measure of gratitude. I happened to be nearby on several occasions when she needed assistance, and I’m sure that influenced her feelings for me. When she realizes as much, she will appreciate the fact that I have not become the center of her life, nor she mine. We each have our own interests, and we do not need to rely upon one another to keep ourselves occupied.”

Trevor leaned back in his chair. He folded his arms and stared at his brother. “You haven’t told your wife that you are in love with her.”

Remmington dismissed that with an impatient wave. “I am not in love with Lily.”

“Did I ever mention the fact that you tap the arm of your chair when you are telling a lie?”

Remmington stopped tapping his fingers. “I do not care to continue this conversation.”

“Why not?” Trevor’s brow rose. “You said yourself that you are not in love with her. It sounds as if you are doing your damnedest to prove the fact to her. Do you think that will make things any easier when she turns to another for the affections you will not give her?”

“That is enough!” Several of the club’s members turned in their chairs to stare at Remmington. He lowered his voice. “If you were not my brother, I would challenge you this instant.”

“I am aware of that fact.”

“Lily would never betray me that way. She is nothing like Catherine.”

“I guessed as much.”

Remmington sat back and regarded Trevor with wary silence.

“If she isn’t like Catherine, then what are her flaws?” Trevor asked. “Is she spoiled or conceited, or so vain that she falls for the first man who pays her a compliment, the first moment her husband turns his back on her? Does she eye everything you own with the eye of a moneylender? Does she confide to her friends that she finds your infatuation with her amusing?” Trevor shook his head. “No, those flaws all belonged to Catherine, so Lily’s must be even more repugnant.”

“I would advise you to close your mouth. Now.”

Trevor inclined his head as if to heed the warning. “I always take your advice, brother. A long time ago you told me that only a fool makes the same mistake twice. I never do. However, I believe you are about to make an entirely new mistake.”

Remmington clenched his jaw, not about to admit that Trevor was right. That day at the Brass Ring, he’d realized that Lily could easily become the entire focus of his life, the very reason for his existence. He would never give a woman that much power over him. He’d returned to London with the good intentions of setting order to his marriage, of establishing a routine to insure its stability.

Something had gone dreadfully wrong. He sat in his library for hours on end, accomplishing nothing more than blank stares at correspondence and political papers, lost in thoughts of his wife. He would wonder where she was and what she was doing, what she might be wearing the next time he saw her, more often imagining her when she wore nothing at all. Each hour turned into a battle to keep himself from her until dinner, when he could feast his eyes upon her.

At dinner he always waited until she looked away, then he watched every small movement she made, studied everything she wore, and imagined the clothing he couldn’t see, the whisper-thin silk chemises with their dainty little straps and perfect tendency to cling to all the right parts of her. He mentally dressed and undressed her at his table until he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the ache in his loins, knowing it would be hours before he could sate the need she stirred in him. Each night she refined the torture a little more by wearing a gown cut tighter or lower, or reaching for her wine glass in a way that revealed a shocking amount of bare flesh, or dropping a small pea from her fork to let it roll down the luscious cleft of her breasts until it came to rest inside her bodice. He’d wanted to retrieve that dainty morsel for her. With the tip of his tongue. Each dinner lasted a lifetime, yet it never lasted long enough. He wanted more and more and more. He made himself take less and less.

Each night he forced himself back to his library for more brooding until he felt certain she would be asleep when he joined her in bed. He’d known from the start that he couldn’t go to her room when she was awake, when she would gaze at him with her heart in her eyes. It would be too easy to deceive himself, to think that she would always love him this way. Yet what if she did? What if she looked at him every day of his life, her eyes brimming with love for him?

He recalled what she had looked like when he left her that afternoon, the sherry-colored pools of bruised pride. He’d done that to her deliberately, to keep her at arm’s length, away from his heart. Somehow he’d forgotten that she was insightful enough to figure that out for herself. Oh God, what if it was too late? The mistake made?

He set his brandy glass down with an abrupt thump. “You will excuse me, Trevor. I just recalled a matter that needs my attention.”

Lily stared across the library, unable to believe her eyes. She hadn’t quite believed Digsby, either, when he told her that a gentleman caller awaited her in the library. She’d almost admonished him for allowing a gentleman into the house while her husband was not at home, until she heard his name: Sebastian Lacroix.

The door closed behind her with a dull thud. Robert turned at the sound and they both took a moment to study the other.

“Marriage agrees with you, Lily.”

“Oh, Robert! You are safe!” Lily launched herself across the room and into his arms.

“Umph!” He staggered a few theatrical steps backward. “I see you’ve not lost a bit of your strength, now that you are a proper married lady.”

She pushed against his chest, but kept her fingers wrapped around his lapels, needing to hold on to him, to reassure herself that he was really here. “What are you doing in England? Did the French discover your identity? Does Papa know you are safe?”

“All in good time, Lily. For now, all you need to know is that I am safe, the earl knows I am safe, and the French have no idea where I am. However, I have a few questions of my own that you can answer.”

She didn’t like the look in his eye, or the sudden deepening of the lines around his mouth. His hands came to rest on her waist. “Father sent word that you married the Duke of Remmington. He was vague enough about the details that I want to know why.”

“Our marriage wasn’t exactly planned, if that’s what you mean.” Lily smiled and tried to reassure him. “There is no reason for you to be concerned.”

Robert’s mouth became a grim line. “I know him, Lily. He doesn’t think I know who he is, but I do. I also know that he has a reputation for being a rake and a scoundrel where women are concerned. If I’d had any idea that he’d turned his attention on you—” He held her by the shoulders, his expression intent. “Did he force you into this marriage? Did he compromise your honor so you had no choice but to accept his offer?”

Lily couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, but she still couldn’t contain her unladylike giggles.

“I don’t see what’s so damned funny,” Robert muttered.

“Neither do I. Take your hands off my wife, Lacroix.”

Robert removed his hands from her shoulders and took a prodigious step backward. Lily supposed it was the look on Remmington’s face that made him do it. She placed herself in front of Robert, ready to protect her brother. Remmington looked ready to murder him. “I-I didn’t think you would be home until late tonight.”

Remmington didn’t move from his place near the door, but his fisted hands kept tightening in a reflexive motion. “I want you out of my house, Lacroix. I don’t ever want you within sight of my wife again unless I am with her.”

Robert placed his hand on Lily’s arm. “You didn’t tell him?”

Lily pushed Robert’s hand away when she saw her husband’s reaction to that innocent touch. She hurried forward to flatten her palm against Remmington’s chest before he could advance any further into the room. He stopped instantly and covered her hand with his own, his expression a vague resemblance of gentleness as he gazed down at her.

“You have to leave the room now, Lily.”

She shook her head. “No. It isn’t what you think.”

He took both her hands in his, then lifted one to press a brief kiss against her wrist. “I know that, darling. The night you found Patricia Farnsworth in my bed, I realized that your trust in me is complete, unconditional. I will never give you anything less than I receive, in all respects.”

Lily’s breath caught in her throat. “Does that mean—”

“You found him in bed with another woman?” Robert asked. “And you
married
him? Remmington is right, Lily. You need to leave the room.”

Lily felt Remmington’s strength coil around her, an almost tangible element of protection. She glanced over her shoulder, alarmed to see Robert advance on them. She wrapped one arm around her husband’s neck, and stretched her arm out to plant her other hand against her brother’s chest. “No! Stop it, both of you. Miles, you must let me explain.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Robert growled.

Lily glared over her shoulder. “Robert, shut up before your mouth results in a serious injury.” She turned to her husband. “Miles, meet my brother.”

She waited to feel the tension flow out of both men. It didn’t happen. They glared at each other over her head.

“Who the hell is Venus?” Remmington demanded.

“Venus?” Lily echoed.

“None of your damned business. What did you do to make my sister marry you?”

Remmington smiled. “None of
your
damned business.”

Lily sighed. She stepped from between the two and threw up her hands. “I give up. Bash each other’s heads in if you wish. For the life of me, I cannot understand why you want to.”

She crossed her arms and waited. They both scowled at her, then at each other.

“Crofford tells everyone that his son is in Greece,” Remmington said, “digging up artifacts.”

“Now you know the reason for that deception,” Robert informed him.

“You two don’t resemble one another at all.” Remmington looked at Lily, then at her brother. “I thought you were trying to seduce her.”

Robert curled his lip. “That’s revolting. Not that you have much right to be so indignant, considering the fact that you haven’t been faithful to her.”

“I haven’t touched another woman since I met Lily.” Remmington reached out and drew her to his side, his smile wicked. “That is to say, I haven’t touched another woman the way I touch your sister.”

Robert made a sound of disgust and turned a pleading look in Lily’s direction. “Tell me that is not the reason you married him.”

Lily tried to shrug, but the weight of Remmington’s arm on her shoulders made that impossible. Instead she smiled up at him. “I rather like the way he touches me.”

Robert wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Good,” Remmington murmured, his gaze on Lily. “You may leave.”

Lily shook her head. “But he just got here. He hasn’t even told us why he’s in England.”

Remmington released a sigh that sounded like it came from his toes. “Very well.” He led her to his desk and took his seat, then pulled her down onto his lap. He motioned toward the chair opposite his desk with a nod. “Sit down and tell us why you’re here. Make it fast.”

“The warmth of your welcome overwhelms me, Captain.” Robert rolled his eyes, but he took the proffered seat. “Aside from the news of my sister’s whirlwind marriage, I came to England because I think the French might be on to me. I received word from my contact in the War Ministry that the place is alive with gossip that they will soon have one of England’s master cryptographers in custody. Every English operative in France knows how to write code.” He placed one hand against his chest. “Modesty aside, I believe I am the only one they would refer to as a master cryptographer.”

Remmington’s entire demeanor changed. He loosened his grip on Lily and leaned forward. “You cannot think to return to France. Will you go into hiding?”

Robert nodded. “Until I receive word one way or another from my contact. He knows how to reach me here. It might be no more than a rumor.”

“Do you need a place to stay?” Remmington asked. “A means for your contact to transport his message?”

Robert smiled and shook his head. “You have a strange notion of hospitality, Captain. First you order me to leave, then you invite me to move in.”

“I had one of my estates in mind,” Remmington clarified. He gave Robert a pointed look. “Most are a considerable distance from London.”

“I appreciate your generous offers, but they won’t be necessary. Bainbridge made arrangements to transport the message my contact will send, and he found me a cozy nest to hide in.” He turned to Lily. “However, I do have one request to make of you.”

“Anything you ask,” Lily said.

Robert pursed his lips and remained silent a long moment. “I reported my information to Sir Malcolm earlier today. He told me everything about George Allen, and how he tried to kill you. I’m sorry I could not be here for you,
chérie
.”