Stolen Kisses (10 page)

“Good evening, Miss Benton, Mr. Benton,” Dolph Remdale greeted them, showing his perfect white teeth in a smile.

“Good evening, Mr. Remdale,” Lilith replied, trying to put a touch of surprise into her voice. After all, this was practically the first time he had even acknowledged her presence. She hoped her brother would have enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

“I noticed you looking in my direction, my lady. Is there something I can do for you?” he asked politely.

“Oh, no,” Lilith gushed, cursing Dansbury all over again. This was all his fault. “I was simply telling my brother that his time might be better spent in finer company.”

At that William stirred and opened his mouth, and she dug her fingernails into his arm. With a strangled cough he subsided.

Remdale nodded. “A wise counsel,” he said, his eyes remaining on her. “Perhaps you’d care to join me at White’s this evening, Mr. Benton.”

“Don’t care to, no,” William said stiffly.

“William,” she protested, blushing, and glanced at her brother. “My apologies, Mr. Remdale. My brother tends to speak before he thinks. We find it amusing, but at times it—”

“Lil, don’t you apol—”

“Please, Mr. Benton, Miss Benton. There is no need to explain.” The pale eyes held Lilith’s. “Obviously your brother is under the influence of a rather—how shall I say—a rather unacceptable person. I hope he is able to pull himself free before permanent damage is done.”

William opened his mouth, and Lilith tightened her grip on his arm. “Thank you for your concern, sir.”

Dolph smiled. “Of course.” With a nod, he turned away to rejoin his friends.

“Dash it, Lil, that hurt,” William protested, pulling his arm free and rubbing it.

“You cannot go about insulting people like that, William! For goodness sake.”

“Jack don’t like the Remdales.” Her brother frowned. “Don’t see why I should, either.”

“Yes, well,
that
Remdale obviously knows nothing about his uncle’s death,” Lilith returned, glancing after Dolph. “Now do you believe Lord Dansbury’s done something?”

He scowled at her. “From what you’ve told me, it seems as though he saved your reputation so that you could go to your fine acquaintances and say shabby things about him behind his back.”

“I do no such thing.” That wasn’t quite true, but she had never said anything that Dansbury didn’t deserve, after all. “You must go find him. If he’s done something foolish, it could make things worse for all of us. Thanks to him, everyone knows His Grace was courting me.”

William sighed. “I’ll fetch him in the morning. I’d wager a thousand quid that you’re wrong about him, but something’s definitely spotty here.”

“Thank goodness you’re finally listening to me.”

She had been wrong to place an ounce of trust in the marquis. And debt or no debt, if Jonathan Faraday had as much to do with the disappearance of Wenford’s body as she suspected, she would see him in Old Bailey prison herself.

“William,” a smooth, faintly French voice cooed from behind her, and Lilith turned around.

“Antonia.” Her brother beamed. “I’d like you to
meet my sister, Lil. Lilith, Miss St. Gerard.”

“Charmed.” Miss St. Gerard nodded, smiling coolly and holding out her hand.

Lilith shook it. “Miss St. Gerard.”

“If you’ve as much a head for cards as your brother, Miss Benton, you’re welcome to attend one of my little parties. One may meet all types of interesting people there.”

“No doubt,” Lilith said stiffly.

With a smile, Antonia slipped her arm around William’s and led him toward the refreshment table. Apparently Miss St. Gerard was something else she could thank Jack Faraday for. It was unfortunate that it was unladylike to thank someone with a pistol.

S
omething damned peculiar was going on. Peese and Martin had been whispering together all morning. Irritated at being excluded, Jack finally reminded them what an odious habit gossip was. His valet finally confessed to hearing the news that Harriet Devereaux and Raymond Beecher had eloped the day before.

“Anything else?” the marquis prompted, straightening his arms so Martin could avail him of his coat. The elopement had to be an
hors d’oeuvre
to the news of Wenford’s death, and he readied himself to make some cool, cynical comment regarding the duke’s demise. After all, His Grace had been old as Methuselah, and pompous as a—well, as a Remdale.

“No, my lord,” Martin returned, brushing at the back of the coat. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Hm.” Jack picked up his beaver hat and kid gloves, turning for the door to mask his perturbation. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ve an appointment with Hoby.”

He’d made the appointment almost the moment he’d arrived in London for the Season. The Hessian boots he’d destroyed last winter, while pulling a trapped cow from a stream at Dansbury, had been his favorites, and
he was growing damned tired of pinched toes. But seeing Hoby was more difficult than gaining an audience with Prince George.

In truth, Martin’s gossip had troubled him greatly. First, it irked him when his servants got wind of any good gossip before he did. Second and more importantly, every other piece of news, however scandalous, should pale in light of Wenford’s death. His servants, though, seemed to know nothing of it at all.

No one else appeared to know, either. As he rode Benedick to Hoby’s establishment, he was actually relieved to see William Benton’s sour expression when the boy intercepted him on his exquisite, and very expensive, new stallion. At least someone else found the morning troublesome. “Good morning, my boy. And how was Rochmont’s stale little
fête
last evening?”

“Jack, thank God you’re about. I was on my way to see you.”

“So I gathered.” Jack sighed and crossed his wrists over the cantle of his saddle. “Don’t keep me in suspense,” he said dryly. “You look as though you’ve swallowed a bug.”

“Were you ever going to tell me about your rescue of Lil?” the boy returned. “Lord, what a caper. Jack.”

The marquis attempted to hide his surprise. “Told you, did she?” That didn’t seem particularly wise; it wasn’t something he would have expected of the astute Lilith Benton.

“She didn’t have a choice. Something’s gone wrong, I think.”

An image of Lilith Benton, pale and shaken and clutching his arm to keep from falling, crossed unbidden into Jack’s mind, and he took a breath at the abrupt feeling of concern. “Is your sister well, then?” he asked offhandedly. It would never do if he ruined her by ac
cident. The
dénouement
had to be as carefully planned as the rest of the steps in the game.

“Oh, she’s fine. Don’t know quite how to take you now, though.”

“Really? She finds me heroic, then?”

“Hardly. Don’t like being in your debt, I think. She glowers like a gargoyle whenever she mentions your name.”

“She actually mentions my name? That
is
a surprise.” Jack kneed Benedick into a walk. “I’m on my way to Hoby’s, so if you wish to keep gossiping you shall have to accompany me.”

William hesitated, then turned his black Thor to follow. “Where were you last night?” he asked as he caught up.

So the boy was going to feel abandoned every time he chose to go off somewhere on his own. Antonia obviously wasn’t keeping William as occupied as either she or Jack intended. “Seeing a man about a dog,” he said coolly. “Why, do you require a nursemaid? Or pointers in navigating a woman’s boudoir?”

William flushed. “I do not need a nursemaid. And I don’t know why you become so hostile whenever I ask you anything personal. I’m not the damned Spanish Inquisition, you know.”

At least William’s repartee had improved since he had taken the boy under his wing. “William, I have no intention of relating to you the intimate details of my existence,” he said shortly. There were times he wished he knew nothing of them himself.

“Do you have any objection to telling me why no one seems to know Wenford is dead?”

“Keep your bloody voice down,” Jack warned, abruptly unwilling to believe what he had suspected all morning.

William glanced about guiltily. “Lilith sent me to ask you what you’re up to this time.”

The marquis stared at his companion. “Lilith sent you? To me?”

William cracked a grin. “Amazing, ain’t it? She’s convinced you’ve done something scandalous with Old Hatchet Face.”

“And you’re none too certain, either, I assume?”

Actually, William’s speculations did not bother him as much as the fact that Miss Benton was correct. He could only guess what she would think when she learned what he had actually done with Wenford’s earthly remains. He’d been working too hard at this to let a misunderstanding set him back to the beginning.

Hoby’s establishment came into view up the street. If he broke his appointment it would be another month, if he was lucky, before he got another. “Damnation,” he muttered, then brought Benedick around. “Let’s go see your sister.”

“Is Father gone?”

Lilith jumped as William leaned his head into the morning room. Her brother had become far too proficient at sneaking about, and he was wearing that conspiratorial look on his face again. She frowned at him. “Yes, he took Aunt Eugenia to see Mrs. Higginson half an hour ago, after I spent twenty minutes convincing him that Mr. Higginson was personally acquainted with the Duke of Gloucester. Where in the world have you been?”

“Looking for Jack, of course.”

“And did you find him?”

The Marquis of Dansbury reached past her brother to push the door open the rest of the way, and strolled into the morning room as though he owned it. He had donned
a blue coat and tan breeches, and he still looked more like a pirate than a member of the peerage. “Indeed he did, Miss Benton.” She watched him, unable to look away, as he swept a bow and sank onto the couch beside her without being asked. “And thank you for inviting me. I admit, it is an honor I never expec—”

“Why is it,” Lilith interrupted, with what she considered remarkable composure, “that the greatest scandal of the moment is Raymond Beecher’s ill-planned elopement with that fortune-hunting Harriet Devereaux?”

Before Dansbury replied, he took a moment to look about the room. “I say, it looks much more pleasant in here without a corpse on the floor.” He nodded approvingly. “It is a scandal because no one can conceive that the two of them might actually have fallen in love. And Harriet is no gold digger. She’s got more blunt than Beecher could ever have hoped to inherit.”

“But I heard her late husband’s will stated—” Lilith stopped herself, scowling, as the marquis looked at her, amusement in every line of his lean face. “You know what I mean,” she continued, lifting her chin. “Why does no one know of the Duke of Wenford’s unfortunate death?”

“Except for William, of course.”

So he didn’t approve her choice of confidant. “I don’t require your approval.”

The marquis glanced at William, who frowned at him. “Just pointing out a fact,” he said.

“That’s right, you don’t want to upset your new disciple, do you?” she said sweetly, pleased to be on the attack for once.

He looked sideways at her and leaned closer. “You don’t want to upset your rescuer, now, do you?” he murmured under his breath.

Lilith reluctantly stopped baiting him. He could do far more damage to her than she could to him, after all. “Suffice it to say that including my brother was necessary. Now explain yourself, Lord Dansbury.”

The marquis hesitated. “I’m a bit baffled,” he finally sighed, rising to go lean against the mantel.

“You’re—where is the body of the Duke of Wenford?” she demanded.

“Didn’t you put him on his doorstep, like you told Lil you would?” William questioned from his perch by the window.

“Not exactly.”

“Where is he?” Lilith asked evenly.

The marquis met her gaze. “I found myself unable to resist a rather grand notion, and I convinced your groom to help me haul Old Hatchet Face down into his wine cellar.”

She stared at him, what was left of her color draining away. “You didn’t.”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t let my last chance at him go by untouched.”

This was all happening too fast, which seemed to occur quite regularly when the Marquis of Dansbury became involved. “So you’ve hidden him in his wine cellar. What good will that do? Someone will find him eventually.”

“You misunderstand me. I didn’t hide him. I left him in the middle of the floor.”

“And?” she prompted.

He gave a brief smile. “And I opened one of his bottles of wine for him. Not a very good vintage, I’m afraid—but no doubt everyone will understand his poor taste, given his condition.”

Lilith shut her eyes for a moment. “What condition?” she asked faintly.

“His being naked and completely flummoxed in the middle of the famous Remdale wine cellar.”

“Naked?”

William gave a shout of laughter. “By God, Jack. I wish I’d been there!”

Lilith took several deep breaths. “William, please go watch for Papa,” she suggested tightly. Her brother wasn’t helping matters in the slightest, and she certainly didn’t want the two of them ganging up on everything she said. The marquis was more than enough for her to handle.

“You’re not leaving me out of this,” her brother countered, stubbornly folding his arms across his chest and frowning.

“William, be a good boy and do as you’re told,” the marquis unexpectedly seconded. “Your sister wishes to bellow at me in private. I’ll catch you up later.”

His scowl deepening, William stood and stomped to the door. “Dash it all, Jack, you’d better.”

“Now, my sweet, you wished to speak to me in private?” Jack said softly. “You have my utter, complete, entire, undivided attention. I am yours to command, your willing slave in all things real—and imagined.”

Lilith rounded on Dansbury, attempting to credit her speeded pulse rate to simple annoyance. “Why would you do such a thing?
Why?
”

“That is the most interesting topic you can come up with? Surely you can do better,” he returned. “Perhaps we might decide how to settle the debt you owe me. I have several suggestions.”

Lilith blushed, and tried to pretend that she had not “Why would you leave His Grace in such a state? The scandal—”

His expression unexpectedly darkened. “The scandal is exactly why,” he said shortly. For the first time, gen
uine, unmistakable anger touched his voice. “I have no idea how naive you may be, Miss Benton, and I don’t wish to offend your delicate sensibilities, but I know damned well what Wenford was attempting to do to you when he popped off. The bastard may have taken away the opportunity for me to do something nasty to him while he was alive, but it was not too late to put him in his place. Now everyone will see him for what he was—a big, bloody buffoon.”

Lilith had the disturbing sense that she’d just met the real Jack Faraday. It was unsettling, because for a second, she’d liked the man. “It’s too late to embarrass him. It will be his family, and mine, who will suffer.”

“Nonsense. Dolph, maybe—I hope so. You had nothing to do with it, or with him. No one knows anything but that he was courting you.”

A moment ago he was insulting her, and now he was apparently comforting her. “Are you defending my honor?”

Jack gave a brief smile and looked away. “I don’t know. Perhaps I am.”

Lilith looked at his lean, handsome profile for a long moment. “Why?”

This time he chuckled. “You seem at such a loss,” he returned. “Can’t even admit you approve my choice of Wenford’s resting place.”

“How could I approve such a thing?”

He eyed her. “Don’t you find it the least, tiny bit satisfying, Miss Benton? You were the one he was assaulting, after all.”

“Under the circumstances, what I think about it doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “I—”

“Only if you don’t let it matter.”

He’d misinterpreted her meaning, but his answer surprised her nevertheless. “My, aren’t you enlightened?”
she said, with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

“I do try,” he conceded, inclining his head. “And you’re evading my question.”

“I don’t intend to answer it.”

“That’s an answer in itself, isn’t it?” he pursued with a wolfish grin. “I believe silence is generally considered to be an assent.”

“You, my lord, are extremely irritating.” Lilith shut her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingers.

She expected an answer in kind, and it was a moment before she realized that Dansbury was being far too quiet. Lilith opened her eyes again, to see him studying her face closely, his own expression thoughtful. She liked it better when he was being flippant. At least then he was easier to decipher.

“What is it now?” she snapped. Thank goodness her father would never consider him a potential suitor, because it was completely impossible for her to keep her temper and her tongue in check around him.

“This is quite a trial for you, isn’t it?” He folded his arms and leaned back against the mantel.

“Of course it is,” she said haughtily, annoyed that he thought her helpless. “I am unused to dealing with dead dukes and devious scoundrels.”

If she hadn’t despised him so much, she might have thought his answering grin attractive. “I thought nothing rattled Lilith Benton.”

She was actually feeling quite rattled at the moment, and not simply because of Wenford’s death. “And what gave you that impression?”

“Why, you did.” He looked at her from beneath his dark lashes. “Always so cool and calm—”

“I am not the Ice Queen!” she blurted. To hear his amused voice call her that name would be simply unbearable.

Dansbury straightened. “What do you call a female, then, who encourages six suitors—”

“Five,” she snapped.

“—six suitors, and answers none of them? Are you waiting for an even dozen?”

“That is complete nonsense!” Lilith stood, then didn’t know what to do with herself. She settled for stomping her foot and glaring at him.