Scoundrel (46 page)

“You wouldn’t give such orders. Not after you went through this much trouble to take her alive.” Remmington sounded sure of himself. Only Lily could recognize the trace of fear in his voice.

“Kill me and find out for yourself,” Lando taunted. A silent moment passed, then Lando’s voice turned triumphant. “A wise choice, Remmington. Now put them on the floor.”

“Not until we come to an agreement. I’ll act as your hostage if you take me to her. I won’t order my men to shoot you unless you attempt some trick or shoot me yourself.”

No, no, no
! Lily didn’t dare say a word, not when she knew her husband’s weapons were lowered. Where were the others?

The sounds of footsteps answered her question, more and more until she saw too many boots to count. They stood a cautious distance from Lando and his men.

“Remmington! What happened?” It was the sound of Robert’s voice.

“She isn’t here,” Remmington said. “Don’t shoot him. Her life may depend upon it.”

Lily knew this was her only chance. Remmington’s men would be armed. They would have their pistols trained on the enemy. She said a quick prayer, then stood up and placed her hand on the doorknob, turning it until the latch rested inside the door. She backed down two steps, her hand still on the knob, then rushed the door as hard as she could. She heard a pistol discharge the moment the door struck Lando’s back.

Three more shots were fired as she stumbled into the foyer. In that instant she saw her husband, his pistols raised instinctively to protect himself from Lando and his henchmen, yet his attention focused only on her face. He was vulnerable. She took a step forward, an overwhelming urge to protect him.

“Lily!”

Two more shots, and Remmington lunged for her, his weight forcing her to the floor, sheltering every inch of her body as she wanted to shelter his. He wrapped one arm around her head, lifted the pistol in his other hand, took aim, and fired. Lando fell to the floor just a few paces away, a fatal wound in the center of his chest.

“There!” she heard Jack yell. Lily felt a wave of relief as she realized her driver had survived the morning’s work.

“No,” Bull answered. He leaned over the man named Michel. “They’re all dead but this one, and he’s got himself a nasty belly wound. He won’t be going anywhere.”

“You two,” Robert ordered, pointing at Bull and another of Remmington’s men. “Check the upper floors.” He continued to bark out orders until everyone was occupied by his commands. Everyone but Lily and Remmington, who were occupied with each other.

Remmington turned to look at her, his gaze frantic as he searched her face. Then his pistols clattered to the floor. He propped himself up on one elbow and ran his hand over her. “Are you hurt? Lily! Tell me. Are you hurt anywhere?”

He checked her body for injuries with an impersonal touch, but he touched her everywhere. She placed her hand over his and made him stop. “I’m fine.”

“Lily.” He seemed to have trouble saying the word. His eyes held hers in a gaze that searched her soul. The lines in his face disappeared and his rigid body began to relax against hers. The tips of his fingers moved over the arch of her brow, her temple, the line of her cheekbone. He cupped her chin then spread his fingers wide as his palm moved lower, until his hand covered most of her throat. She felt his fingertip rub the sensitive spot where her pulse still raced in an erratic beat. “
Lily
.”

The word held a wealth of meaning. All in one small word, in his expression when he said it.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

His arms wrapped around her, his hand cradling her head to hold her closer, his face buried in the crook of her neck. “I love you,” he whispered. “I couldn’t live if anything happened to you.” He kissed her throat, her cheek, the curve of her ear, then he gave her more sweet, whispered words that filled her eyes with tears and her heart with joy.

“Ahem.”

At last Remmington lifted his head to place his lips against her own, a kiss meant to calm rather than incite. Lily made him deepen the kiss. She wanted him to possess her, claim her, make her forget everything that happened except what happened between them. She needed him to ease the lingering fear, the memory of the dark pit below them, the—

“Ahe-ahe-ahem!”

Lily opened her eyes. Robert stood over them, a dark, disapproving scowl on his face. She tried to extract her mouth from her husband’s. Her feeble struggles had no affect.

Robert must have noticed her failure. He leaned down and poked Remmington’s shoulder. Then he did it again until Remmington lifted his head. “Good Lord, man. Show some modesty. If nothing else, show a little respect for the dead. There are bodies all over this floor. It’s… it’s sacrilegious.”

“None of my men are hurt?” Remmington asked. His eyes didn’t leave Lily.

“Not a one.”

“You aren’t hurt?”

“Nope.”

Remmington nodded, then he gained his feet and drew Lily up to stand beside him. His gaze traveled around the foyer and he lifted her into his arms. “Put your head on my shoulder, Lily.”

She started to look around and he turned so his chest blocked her view. He was scowling again, and Lily knew he didn’t want her to look at the bodies. She nodded and laid her head on his shoulder.

He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Just look at me, Lily. I’ll take you outside.”

Two carriages pulled up just as they left the house. Several men Lily didn’t recognize emerged from the vehicles, then her father and Sir Malcolm.

“Is everyone all right?” Crofford asked.

Remmington nodded. “Robert is inside with my men. I’ll let him make most of the explanations. I want to take Lily home.” He turned to Bainbridge. “Why don’t we all meet at my town house after you finish here? There are things we need to discuss.”

Bainbridge nodded.

“Did they hurt you?” her father asked, his face lined with worry.

“No, Papa, I’m fine.” She smiled up at Remmington. “My husband saved me.”

Remmington made a sound of disgust. “She saved herself,” he told Crofford. “My life as well, I warrant.” He looked down at Lily and shook his head. “Madam, you never cease to amaze me.”

Lily felt a blush warm her cheeks. The look in his eyes reminded her of the words he’d whispered not so long ago. She wanted to hear them again. “I would very much like to leave this place. Could you please be amazed somewhere else?”

He studied her face for a moment, then lifted one brow. “I’m sure of it.”

Robert swallowed the last of his brandy, then set the glass on Remmington’s desk. “Damned inconsiderate, if you ask me. We’ve been here almost an hour.”

“Have patience,” his father said. “Your sister went through a terrible ordeal today. I daresay she’s upstairs crying her eyes out, poor child. I can’t find fault with Remmington for staying by his wife’s side to offer her comfort.”

Robert stalked over to the side table to pour another brandy, muttering under his breath. “I’ll wager ten guineas he is not patting her hand and murmuring ‘there, there.’ “

“What’s that?” Crofford asked.

“Nothing worth repeating. Would anyone else care for a drink?”

Crofford and Sir Malcolm declined the offer.

“We might as well get some portion of our business taken care of while we wait,” Bainbridge said. He smoothed the ends of his mustache with his thumb. “Remmington’s brother, Trevor, is preparing his ship to sail with the tide tomorrow morning. I’ve already told him to expect a passenger, but I don’t want you to take any unnecessary risks, Robert. We have only the word of a wounded spy that Lily and your father were their only targets. There could be others searching for you in France.”

Robert shook his head. “Our armies are headed for a confrontation in northern Spain or the Pyrenees, in a battle that may decide the outcome of the war. My presence in Paris is critical. If the French were on to me, I would have heard from my contact by now.”

“Unless the French have arrested him already,” Crofford pointed out.

“Unlikely,” Robert countered. “You don’t know my contact. He is the last person the French would suspect of subversive activities.”

“Very well then,” Bainbridge said. “You sail with Montague in the morning.” He turned to Crofford. “That leaves the problem of what to do with you, my friend. The French know of your activities, and they could very well order another agent to England to curtail those activities.”

Crofford nodded. “I’ve considered the possibility. It seems best if I disappear for a time, yet I need to be somewhere where I can code and decipher the messages from our operatives, as well as the messages we intercept from the French.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “The safe house in Brighton seems a likely spot. I understand it’s all but impregnable. The only risk will be transporting the decoded messages from Brighton to London.”

“I can ensure that the risk is very small,” Bainbridge said. “It is better than losing your services entirely. You and Lily are the only ones who can decipher Robert’s codes, and I think it safe to assume we will no longer have her talents at our disposal. Remmington is sure to forbid as much.”

“What am I sure to forbid?” Remmington inquired from the doorway. His hand tightened on Lily’s waist, and he led her to the settee where they sat facing Sir Malcolm and her father. Robert stood near the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel.

“We didn’t expect to see you, Lily,” Crofford said. He frowned at Remmington. “She looks pale. You should insist that she return upstairs and rest to recover from her ordeal.”

Remmington shrugged. “Your daughter insists otherwise.”

“Lily looks fine to me,” Robert said. “Not a bit pale. I say, Remmington. Your restorative powers must be something remarkable.”

“I wish everyone would stop speaking of me as if I were a paperweight,” Lily said. A deep blush covered her cheeks. “Robert, if you are curious about my health, you may simply ask me.”

Robert inclined his head. “How do you feel, Lily?”

“Much better, thank you. Now may we speak of something important?”

Remmington directed his scowl at Robert. “Did you interrogate the wounded spy, or find anything else of interest in the house?”

Bainbridge answered his question. “Lando’s man told us what we wanted to know, after I offered his life in exchange for the information. As it turns out, there was a fifth spy in Lord Granger’s ring. Lando.”

“But why couldn’t we track him?” Remmington asked. “The other four spies or their messengers reported through Granger at regular intervals. Why not Lando?”

“Lando knew that Granger’s indiscretions would attract attention from the authorities,” Bainbridge explained, “and that it was only a matter of time before Granger gave himself away. Rather than jeopardize his mission, Lando severed his connections with Granger and created an independent operation with Harry’s assistance.”

“Harry acted as if he never had a farthing to his name,” Remmington mused. “In that, he proved wiser than Granger.”

“But why did Lando shoot him?” Robert asked.

“Lando had no intention of keeping his promises to Harry,” Remmington said. “Once they had Lily, Harry’s usefulness came to an end. If Lily hadn’t escaped and knocked Lando off balance when she did, there is every chance that Lando would have left Harry’s house alive.” He felt Lily’s grip tighten on his arm. He lifted her hand and held it gently between his own. “He intended to use me as a hostage. I had already agreed to act as one.”