Stolen Kisses (12 page)

He gave a short grin. “Jack’s all right. And I wouldn’t worry about his proposal, either. Ernest and the others’ve been talking about how he’s after some chit called the Ice Queen this Season.”

Lilith blinked. “Oh?” Her heart began to beat faster again. “And what is he after her for?”

“To melt her, of course.” He chuckled. “I don’t give the poor gel much of a chance. Jack could burn the Devil’s toes, if he had a mind to.”

“No…no doubt.”

He left a few moments later. Lilith sat where she was, trying to figure out why Dansbury would think that endlessly annoying her would make her look more kindly on him. Still more disturbing, she couldn’t dismiss the scoundrel from her thoughts even knowing his arrogant, presumptuous plan. When Bevins scratched at the door, she started.

Alison, Lady Hutton, had sent over a note cordially inviting her and Aunt Eugenia to attend a party in honor of her daughter’s fourth birthday that evening and apologizing for the short notice the letter gave them. Lilith smiled as she read it. The visit would provide a much better direction for her wandering thoughts than the recital at Lady Wickes’. Immediately she went to the desk to write out her grateful acceptance. The distraction was just what she needed.

“Miss Benton?”

It seemed no one could leave her in peace today. “Yes, Emily?” she said, looking up at her maid.

“Miss Benton, I…I can’t find one of your earrings.”

“Which one is it?” Emily had been her maid for
years, and she couldn’t think for a moment that it had been anything more than misplaced.

“The…your mama’s pearls, Miss Benton.” Emily looked quite upset, and Lilith patted her hand while the girl took a breath. “Jenny, the downstairs maid, she brought up one of the earrings from the morning room the day before yesterday, and I already put the necklace in its box, but I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find the other one.”

“Day before yesterday?” Lilith mused, trying to recall what she’d been doing. The past week had been full of tumultuous events, most of them involving Dansbury or His Grace. Abruptly she remembered, and the blood drained from her face. She had been wrestling with the Duke of Wenford, and he had grabbed her hair. “Oh, no,” she breathed.

“What is it, Miss Benton?”

“Nothing, Emily.” Lilith took a deep breath. Those earrings and the matching necklace were the only memento of her mother she’d allowed herself to keep. Little as she approved of Elizabeth Benton’s wild ways, and much as her mother’s abrupt departure had hurt, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to part with the baubles. Perhaps Milgrew or Dansbury had noticed the duke gripping something when they’d placed him in the cellar. Certainly Jack would have, for he noticed everything.

Emily offered to take another look through her wardrobe, and Lilith agreed, hoping her supposition was wrong. She finished her missive to Lady Hutton and was just rising to give it to Bevins when her father intercepted her. He wore the same dour expression on his face he had since Billington’s, and Lilith sighed. Hearing of Wenford’s death wouldn’t serve to cheer him up. “How was Mrs. Higginson?”

“Whining incessantly. Six years hasn’t changed her
one spot.” He gestured at the note. “What’ve you got there?”

“My reply to an invitation from Lady Hutton. She’s giving a birthday party this evening, and I would like to attend.”

“Hutton?”

“Her husband is Lord Hutton, from Shropshire.”

“What land does he possess?”

“A barony at Linfield. What does that mat—”

“Only a baron?” The viscount frowned. “I thought you were attending Lady Wickes’ event this evening. I heard Lady Georgina ask if you would sit with her there.”

“But Papa, Georgina’s so…light-headed,” Lilith protested. “And I truly would like to see Lady Hutton again. Lord Hutton’s grandfather was the Earl of Clanden,” she added hopefully. Or so Penelope’s mother had told them.

Hamble looked at her, his somber expression unchanged. “Flighty girl. Very well. Once you’re married, you’ll have no time for such nonsense, anyway.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Lilith braced herself. “Papa, about His Grace…” she began, hoping to convince him once and for all to choose someone else before Wenford’s naked corpse was discovered and her father had to add embarrassment to his already keen disappointment.

“Yes,” he returned with a distracted frown, “I’ve been meaning to speak to him.” He headed back for the door. “I’ll send over a card,” he said to himself as he left the room.

“But I truly don’t want to marry Old Hatchet Face,” she muttered, going off to find Bevins and have her note delivered. “And besides, he’s dead.”

“T
here are beautiful gardens in Paris,” Richard Hutton conceded, “but no one grows roses like the English.”

Lady Hutton, seated on the couch beside her husband, took his hand and patted it between her own. “Sometimes I think Richard believes God created English weather solely for the purpose of growing roses.”

The twenty or so guests gathered in the Hutton drawing room laughed. As Lilith had suspected upon meeting Alison, the Hutton circle was rather boisterous. They had also been warm and generous, and thankfully none of her suitors were there. Aunt Eugenia had been gloomy until the Countess of Ashton’s entry into the party, at which point she had cheered considerably, to her niece’s relief. The occasion was a welcome respite from the pressures of the Season, and Lilith was in no hurry to leave.

“Well, all I know is it’s too damned cold for me,” Peter Wilten commented, handing over another gaily wrapped package.

“Mr. Wilten,” Gabriella Wilten admonished, but the others laughed again.

Beatrice Hutton sat on the floor, surrounded by mounds of opened gifts. Even at four the girl was a beauty, with her mother’s dark, curly hair and her father’s gray eyes. Lilith smiled at her, gratified that the stuffed animal she had purchased seemed to be among the little one’s favorites.

Aunt Eugenia laughed at something, and Lilith glanced over to see her animatedly chatting with the countess and with Lord Hutton’s mother, who had also been acquainted with Lord and Lady Dupont in Shropshire. Richard’s niece and nephews sat sorting through the pile of gifts on their cousin’s behalf.

“Miss Benton, how many different varieties do you cultivate?” Lord Hutton asked, as Beatrice climbed into his lap and demanded help with a particularly difficult wrapping job.

Lilith looked up to find herself the center of attention. “I have fifteen bushes here, and another thirty or so at Hamble. Many are duplicates, so perhaps thirty-five different varieties.”

“That’s marvelous!”

Lilith smiled at his enthusiasm. “Thank you.”

“You know, I’ve been looking for a Madame Hardy. Mine perished in a trimming accident.” He glanced down at his daughter good-humoredly.

“I have a Madame Hardy at Benton House,” Lilith replied, pleased to be able to render assistance. “I’d be happy to give you a cutting.”

“I would be grate—”

“Where’s my Honey Bea?” a voice called out.

Beatrice squealed and vaulted off her father’s lap. Paper and ribbons flew from under her feet as she ran for the doorway. Lilith could only watch, stunned, as the Marquis of Dansbury strode into the room, picked Beatrice up, and swung her around in the air. Laughing, he
kissed the girl soundly and then set her back on the floor. Beatrice promptly began tugging at his pockets.

“What’s this?” Jack asked innocently. “What are you looking for, little girl?”

Beatrice giggled. “My birthday present.”

“You told me what you wanted. Do you remember?”

“Yes, Uncle Jack.”

“Do you think it would fit in my pockets?”

The girl spread out her arms. “Where is it, then?”

The marquis motioned behind him. A servant stepped into the room, a wiggling Irish setter puppy in his arms. Beatrice laughed happily as the marquis took possession of the puppy and squatted down beside her. “She’s littler than you, Bea, so you have to be gentle. Understand?”

Beatrice reached out and carefully stroked the puppy’s back while Dansbury cradled it. “Yes.” She nodded.

“All right, Honey Bea, here’s your red puppy. Happy birthday.”

With a glance at the Huttons, the marquis set it down. It immediately jumped up on Beatrice and began licking her face. Her cousins crowded around excitedly to greet the four-footed arrival, as well. After a moment, Dansbury rose and strolled over to the couch. Halfway there his lazy, intelligent eyes passed over Lilith. For a heartbeat he froze, plainly astounded to see her there. She raised an eyebrow at him, pleased for a moment to have gotten the upper hand, as he continued on his way.

“Sorry I’m late.” He smiled, leaning over to kiss Alison on the cheek. He glanced again at Richard. “Shall I stay?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” Alison said warmly, and tugged him down onto the couch beside her. “She told you she wanted a puppy?”

“She was quite specific. She wanted a
red
puppy.”

Now that she saw them together, Lilith was surprised she hadn’t realized before that Jack Faraday and Alison Hutton were siblings. They had the same dark, wavy hair and brown eyes, though Alison’s features were softer and more rounded than those of the lean-faced marquis. Alison had even mentioned that she had a brother, and Lilith was disgusted with herself for not realizing sooner who it must be.

Dansbury reached across his sister to offer his hand to Richard. Unless Lilith was mistaken, the baron hesitated before he shook it.

“Still busy days for you, Richard?” Jack asked easily, accepting a glass of port from the maid.

Richard nodded. “The prime minister remains unconvinced that we’ve purged England of the last of Boney’s spies.”

“I still don’t see what it matters, anymore. Bonaparte is dead. They have no one to report to.”

Lord Hutton’s eyes narrowed. “Try explaining that to Liverpool.”

The marquis straightened. “As I recall, I—”

“Jack, have you met Miss Benton?” Alison interrupted hurriedly, and gestured at Lilith. “Lilith, my brother, the Marquis of Dansbury.”

Jack rose to take Lilith’s hand in his long fingers, and brought it to his lips. “We’ve met,” he murmured with a smile, his dark eyes dancing. “Though I’m delighted to see you again, Miss Benton.”

“My lord,” Lilith responded, retrieving her hand from his warm, strong grip as quickly as she could.

Dansbury nodded amiably and turned away to chat with the rest of the guests—or at least, those who didn’t seem unnerved by him. Lilith watched him closely. Charming and personable tonight, he still looked like a panther among house cats. It wasn’t until he sat to spend
several minutes talking with his sister, his cynical, guarded expression slowly easing into a soft smile, that Lilith thought she again glimpsed the real Jack Faraday.

He glanced at her, and she self-consciously looked down at the tea cup cradled in her hands. A moment later he had seated himself beside her. Lilith took a sip of tea before she met his inquisitive look. “I thought you would have business elsewhere this evening.”

“I decided to leave your brother to his own devices tonight. You should be pleased.”

She looked up to find his amused gaze on his niece and her red puppy. “Still trying to melt the Ice Queen?” she murmured.

He smiled as he turned back to her. “You’ve already made it quite clear that your temperature runs somewhat to the volcanic.”

“And it took only one blow to the head to convince you.”

“It took only one kiss,” he corrected softly.

“You are a devil, my lord,” she snapped, flushing.

Unexpectedly, the insult made him laugh. “Your eyes are flashing again, Miss Benton,” he commented. “I have never seen such green, even in king’s emeralds.”

The flattery made her blush, which made her even angrier. He threw compliments about like daisies, and she knew better than to take any of it seriously. “Were these emeralds you speak of by any chance stolen?”

Again he chuckled. “So now I am a devil, a murderer of dukes, and a jewel thief,” he whispered, leaning closer. “Are there any other dastardly deeds you wish to accuse me of performing this evening?”

“Not in polite company,” she sniffed.

Slowly he ran his finger along the edge of her gown. “I was hoping you would say that. Perhaps we could go somewhere to discuss it in private, Lilith.”

“Miss Benton,” she corrected again, her eyes darting in his direction and then away. She wondered how many other women had received that same enticing smile, and tried to ignore her fluttering pulse. “And don’t think any of your compliments will have the slightest effect on me: I’ve never had any use for your sort, and I never will. In fact, I’ve very nearly decided to wed the Earl of Nance.”

He scowled. “I thought we’d been over this. Nance is completely wrong for you.”

“Oh, really?” she replied, surprised at his sharp tone. “What leads you to that conclusion?”

Jack ticked the points off on his fingers. “He’s an idiot, he’s got no sense of humor, and he’s stiff as a post. Premature rigor mortis.” He smiled cynically. “Could say that about Jeremy Giggins, too. And Henning. And Varrick.” He frowned. “
And
Old Hatchet Face. In fact, Miss Benton, it’s difficult to tell how many of your suitors are actually deceased, and how many just don’t know it yet.” His smile cracked again. “Except for me, of course.”

That hardly seemed fair. “They’re all completely respectable. Except for you.”

He looked at her for a moment. “And they’re all completely unsuitable for someone, who’s no Ice Queen. Except for me.”

The declaration was a rather direct one for Jack Faraday, and it was only fair that she answer in kind. “If you hadn’t made such a waste of your life, I might agree with you.”

She glanced over at Aunt Eugenia to see if she was ready to depart. Unfortunately, though, Mrs. Farlane seemed quite content to sit and chat all night. Apparently she had decided that with the Duke of Wenford’s proposal nearly secured, even Jack couldn’t harm things.
When Lilith looked back at Dansbury, his expression was solemn.

“Miss Benton, I would think that you, of all people, would be willing to admit that you have very little other than rumor and innuendo on which to base your perception of me—and that perhaps I am not at all the kind of man you ìmagine.”

His seriousness surprised her, for she had expected neither honesty nor sincerity from him. “Just what kind of man are you, then?” she asked slowly, wondering whether he would answer.

They were interrupted by another guest, and Lilith stifled the desire to tell Gabrielle Wilten to go away. After an interminable moment, Jack turned back to her.

“What a piece of work am I?” he said softly, his voice low and intimate. “‘How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty. In form and moving,’” he ran a hand along the lapel of his magnificent blue coat, “‘how express and admirable. In action how like an angel. In apprehension—’”

“‘How like a god,’” Lilith finished. She smiled, shaking her head. For a rakehell, he was exceedingly well read. “And how modest, as well.”

His eyes danced in the chandelier light. “Good God, you have a beautiful smile,” he whispered.

It took Lilith a moment to gather her thoughts enough to continue. “May I ask you a question?” she ventured, reluctant to break the pleasant mood between them.

“I am at your service.”

“Did—well, did you notice if His Grace might have been…holding something in one of his hands?”

“While I can think of several inappropriate comments, I will settle for asking for a description of what you think he might have been holding. I can attest to the fact that he had nothing in his pockets.” He gave a
slow grin. “He wasn’t wearing any when I left him.”

For a moment she’d nearly forgotten what a scoundrel Jack was. Thank goodness he’d reminded her. “Never mind.” She didn’t need to end up even further in his debt than she’d already landed.

“What are you looking for?” he repeated.

Lilith gazed at his stormy eyes, and then lowered her gaze and took another sip of tea. “An earring,” she murmured reluctantly.

He sat forward. “An earring. You gave that gammon-faced goat an earring?”

Miss Gloria Ashbury looked in their direction, and whispered something to Lady Mavern. Lilith belatedly realized that she and the marquis were seated rather close to one another for mere acquaintances. Self-consciously, she shifted away.

“Do be quiet,” she hissed. “You sound jealous.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, his eyes glinting. “I am simply amazed that you would give such an old, ugly behemoth a token of your affection. Didn’t you think to remove it from his possession while he was in your morning room?”

His voice remained hushed, but Lilith couldn’t help glancing about the noisy room before she answered. “I didn’t
give
him
anything
. And I didn’t know it was missing then. He grabbed my hair when he fell, and I didn’t notice it was gone until a few hours ago. I’ve looked everywhere…and then I thought he might still have it.”

Jack looked at her for the space of several heartbeats. “I’m beginning to wish I’d come calling on you several moments earlier,” he finally said.

“Because you don’t believe me?” she returned, offended.

“Because I would have been able to save Wenford the effort of dying on his own.”

Lilith swallowed at the dark, dangerous edge to his soft voice. It couldn’t be jealousy, for of course he had no claim on her whatsoever. “I’m half convinced you had something to do with his death, anyway.”

To her relief, he only sighed and shook his head. “It is times like this I wish I’d lived a more exemplary life.”

It was the first time she’d heard anything like regret in his tone. “Then why didn’t you?”

He looked down, shrugging. “There’s no fun in it. And never fear, my lady. I’ll go look for your damned earring later tonight.”

Another scrap of honor. Dansbury was turning out to be full of surprises. “I wish I could believe what you tell me,” she whispered, wondering if he realized she was referring to more than the search for her earring.

Beatrice ran over to tug at her uncle’s hands, trying to pull him to his feet. “Show me a trick,” she demanded.

“I wish you could as well, Lilith,” he returned, then allowed himself to be dragged over to where the children were using furniture to make a pen for the puppy.

“Miss Benton,” she murmured after a moment, following him with her eyes.

“
Uncle Jack
is not a proper name for a female pup,” Uncle Jack explained patiently, while behind him Alison didn’t even bother stifling her laughter.

“It’s her name,” Beatrice insisted, trying to keep the wriggling mass of legs and tail and ears confined to her lap.