Stolen Kisses (23 page)

“Are you mad?” she whispered. “I left through the servants’ entrance. I think I can get in the same way.”

“The trellis would be safer, if you don’t wish to meet anyone.”

“I have no wish to be thorn-bitten,” she retorted, then gave an exasperated smile. “Thank you, Jack, for seeing me home.”

He took a step closer. “Is that all?”

“I…” She met his gaze, the passion and yearning of the night before touching her emerald eyes. “I think it has to be,” she said quietly.

Jack pushed her hood back from her face, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and leaned down to touch her lips softly with his own. “For now, perhaps,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’m ready to give you up yet, Lil.”

“Jack—”

He covered her lips with his fingers, not wanting to hear her protest that they would never suit because he was an unredeemable scoundrel.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said. He kissed her again, and her return kiss gave him hope that she had no real wish to end this, either.

“Excuse me.”

Jack jumped and instinctively stepped between the voice and Lilith. The Bentons’ groom stood at the edge of a bed of geraniums, his expression curious.

“Milgrew,” Jack acknowledged stiffly, his hand clasping Lilith’s. “Fine morning for a stroll.”

“Aye,” the groom agreed slowly, still glancing from one to the other of them. “Bit chilly, though. I had thought to go into the kitchens and get myself a cup of tea,” the Scot continued in his light brogue. “Thought perhaps Miss Lilith might wish to accompany me—t’make sure that certain…busybodies ain’t awake yet.”

Jack relaxed and smiled. “Splendid idea. My thanks.”

“Thank you, Milgrew,” Lilith echoed, and looked up at Jack again. “I have to go.”

“Be careful,” he said quietly, reluctantly releasing her fingers. “And stay away from Dolph, if you can. Until we know. Or until you decide.”

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

Jack watched Lilith and the groom slip through the servants’ entrance at the back of the house. Slowly he turned and made his way out of the garden, and back to the coach.

“Back where you came from,” he instructed the driver.

The hack bumped into motion, but Jack hardly noticed. Lilith was probably already doing her best to forget the evening they’d spent together, and regretting that she’d ever left her engagement ball. For his part, he doubted he’d ever be able to forget. Nor did he wish to.

It was useless and idiotic to deny it any further. He was in love with Lilith Benton, had likely been in love with her since the moment he had set eyes on her. She was the only woman he’d ever met who seemed able to make him remember that he did possess qualities of decency and good-heartedness, however hard he’d tried to forget and deny them. And he couldn’t have her.

Even so, she felt something for him. Though she had tried, she couldn’t hide it from him this morning, and she’d certainly been enthusiastic enough last night. He’d be damned before he’d let Dolph or any of her other blasted swains have her. He wanted her for himself, and he wanted her forever. Which meant he had to accomplish two things: find out what, exactly, had killed old Wenford; and prove that Dolph, and not he, had done it, before the Crown saw fit to confiscate his lands and ship him off to Australia.

Jack was aware enough of the odds against him to be worried, and cynical enough to be amused at himself. It was a damned good thing he enjoyed a challenge—and turning his life right-side up again for the sake of London’s most proper young lady looked to be the most difficult one he’d ever faced. It was also the one he most needed, and most wanted, to win.

F
or someone unused to lying and subterfuge, Lilith was suddenly becoming very adept at it. She was even coming to enjoy it a little.

All along, she’d been assuring everyone that she felt nothing for Jack Faraday but disdain. And this morning she’d told the only lie she regretted—she’d told Jack she preferred to have nothing further to do with him. That was the wisest course, certainly, but it was not the one her heart wanted to follow. In fact, a good portion of her had wished he would whisk her back into the hack and take her away.

After that, the rest of the lies became progressively easier. She lied to her maid when Emily appeared to help her dress for breakfast, explaining that the reason she hadn’t been found at bedtime was that she’d been sulking in the library. Then, in answer to her aunt’s grating prompting, she admitted that she had come to her senses and that she was looking forward to her marriage with the Duke of Wenford. She even pretended that she didn’t feel betrayed by and furiously angry at her father, and agreed with him when he said that the Marquis of Dansbury was a damned scoundrel, and that hanging him
would be performing a service to mankind. And the entire time that she was being pleasant and cooperative and telling the most outrageous lies, she was thinking of Jack.

Last night
had
been a mistake, undoubtedly the most foolish thing she’d ever done. And the most wonderful. When Aunt Eugenia insisted they go immediately to have her fit for the most wondrous wedding gown in history, Lilith stood through Madame Belieu’s fitting session hardly noticing anything, answering only when spoken to. In her mind and in her heart, she was with Jack, feeling his touch, hearing his voice; wishing for things that could never be, and hoping that he would come up with a plan to get her out of this mess.

She might have spent the day dreaming if Penelope Sanford and her mother hadn’t joined her and Aunt Eugenia as they strolled through Hyde Park.

“You look happier than you did last night,” Pen smiled, tucking her arm through her friend’s.

“I feel happier,” Lilith admitted, wishing she could tell Penelope why.

“I’m glad. I was worried for you, you know. You seemed so distressed.”

“I panicked, I suppose.” Realizing just how little she meant to either her father or Dolph had sent her fleeing to the one man who’d seemed genuinely concerned about her. A risky choice, certainly, but she had been unable to stay away. And he hadn’t disappointed her.

Pen looked at her for a moment, then glanced over her shoulder to be certain Aunt Eugenia and Lady Sanford couldn’t overhear. “Have you heard from Lord Dansbury?”

Lilith jumped. “Why would I have?”

“Lilith, you sneaked out of my library to go see him, and when you came back you couldn’t stop smiling.
Why do you have to pretend to me that you don’t like him? I would never tell.” Her friend squeezed her arm “You do like him, don’t you?”

Lilith sighed, leaning her head against Penelope’s. “It’s worse than that, I’m afraid.”

“Worse? How?”

“I love him. Pen.”

Penelope grinned. “Oh, Lil, that’s won…” She stopped abruptly, frowning. “That’s terrible. You’re engaged to His Grace.”

A shudder coursed down Lilith’s spine at the reminder. “I know. But even if I wasn’t. Papa would never let me marry Jack. Not even if he wanted to marry me.”

“Does he? Does he love you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I think he does.” A blush touched her cheeks at the memory of his passionate touch. “Other times, I have no idea what in the world he might be thinking or feeling. But it really doesn’t matter, because nothing can come of it.”

Pen looked down, kicking a pebble out of their path with the toe of her shoe. “So you’re just going to marry Dolph Remdale.”

“Pen, I don’t want to marry him, but I don’t have any choice! It’s been announced, for heaven’s sake!”

“You could elope with Lord Dansbury,” Penelope insisted stubbornly.

“And live forever disgraced in Scotland or America, I suppose?” Lilith retorted skeptically, trying to ignore the nervous, excited flutter of her heart at her friend’s suggestion.

“At least you would be happy.”

Lilith started to answer, then closed her mouth again. An unbidden image of her lovely, wild mother came to her, sitting alone in their morning room and gazing out
the window. She’d looked so sad, Lilith remembered, though at her entrance her mother had turned away from the window and smiled and said she was only thinking of some silly thing or other. That had been a month before she’d fled with the Earl of Greyton.

For the first time, it occurred to Lilith to wonder what Elizabeth Benton’s motivation for leaving them might have been. “Bad blood,” her father had always said, and she’d been hurt enough at being abandoned that she’d never really questioned it. But if someone was happy, wild or not, they didn’t flee into someone else’s arms. Certainly if she’d loved Dolph instead of Jack, she never would have gone to the Marquis of Dansbury, and would certainly never have gone to his bed. It wouldn’t have occurred to her to do so.

“Lilith,” Pen said quietly, looking at her. “What are you thinking?”

Lilith sighed and gave a small, sad smile. “About what people will do to be happy. Even for a few moments.”

Jack glanced at his pocket watch, then at the overcast sky, and then at the figure kneeling in the garden beyond the low stone wall and the sheltering row of bushes. He was nervous, which was both irritating and annoying. The more calmly and coolly he conducted himself in what was to come, the more success he was likely to have. Not that success was likely under any circumstances.

Finally, with one last glance at his watch, the marquis snapped it shut, dropped it into his waistcoat pocket, and approached the low gate in the fence. “Weeding?” he said, leaning against the wooden post.

Richard Hutton glanced up over his shoulder, and then stood and brushed dirt off his loose gardening breeches.
“Planting roses,” he replied after a moment, picking up another short branch from the bucket it was soaking in and moving over several feet to dig another hole.

“Lilith Benton’s roses?”

“Yes. Do you have a reason for being here?”

Jack kept a rein on his temper. Beginning another fight now wouldn’t help. “Actually, I do, but it’s not going to make you any more fond of me.”

“Then go.”

The marquis shook his head, hurt by the anger still in Richard’s voice—anger that five years had done little to erase. “Richard, this isn’t easy for me either, you know. I’ve been lurking out here in the bloody cold, waiting until Bea went inside, just so she wouldn’t see me.”

“I’m touched.” Hutton started to say something else, then paused and glanced toward the house. “All right,” he said grudgingly, and straightened. He walked over to lean against the wall a short distance away. “What is it?”

After a hesitation, Jack opened the gate and strolled over beside him. “I seem to be in a bit of trouble.”

“I know.”

“I’d like to discuss it with you, if you can stand to listen.”

“Alison wagered me that you might come by,” his brother-in-law commented, pulling off his gloves and setting them beside him on the bricks, “though I thought it considerably naive and optimistic of her. I’m listening.”

The marquis looked across the garden for a moment, not seeing any way to make his news more palatable. “I was the one who left Wenford to be found in his wine cellar.”

“
You what?
” Richard gasped, his fair complexion going even paler.

Jack nodded. “And stripped him naked. And left the bottle of wine in his hand.”

“Good God.” Richard looked over his shoulder as though to make certain they were not being overheard. “Did you kill him as well, then?”

Jack eyed his companion, then glanced away. “No—but I suppose I deserve that. Let me start from the beginning.”

“Yes,” Lord Hutton agreed faintly, “please do.”

“Dolph Remdale lost to me at hazard, couldn’t pay, and offered up a diamond pin to cover his wager. I took the bauble, though I suspected it wasn’t his to give. So I made certain Wenford then saw me with it. He agreed to make good on it so he could get it back.”

“I recall hearing about a bellowing match between the two of you a few weeks ago,” Richard said. “Just for once, you might attempt to handle things in a conventional manner.”

Jack shrugged. “At any rate, Dolph came by the next morning, we traded insults and the pin, and he swore he’d ruin me. I was rather hoping he’d call me out, but the coward didn’t take the bait.”

“That was wise of him,” the baron commented, “considering your history of dueling and his future as the Duke of Wenford.”

“Yes, I’m getting to that. A few nights later, I was at White’s when Wenford came by to make amends. Still feeling rather aggrieved at His Grace, I offered him a bottle of port from my private stock, rather than my hand. Early the next morning I went to the Bentons’. I had…left my gloves there. Wenford had gone there just ahead of me to see Lilith, and expired on her floor in the midst of proposing to her.”

He hoped Richard would swallow the slightly skewed tale. In the past, Jack would have been highly amused
to relate the entire sordid incident. But not where Lilith was concerned.

“And for some perfectly valid reason you are about to explain to me, you didn’t go to the law, and you didn’t inform me,” his companion grunted.

“Lil was there alone. I was completely at sea, and decided to save her from the scandal Wenford’s death would cause her.” He looked sideways at Lord Hutton. “And you and I aren’t speaking, so I would hardly have come here.”

“Ah.”

“Therefore, I took charge of the remains and disposed of them as I saw fit—and in a manner which everyone in London has by now discussed in detail.”

“If I may ask a question?”

Jack nodded.

“If you and I still aren’t speaking, then why are you here now?”

Jack was accustomed to keeping things to himself, either solving or ignoring his own problems. Coming out and explaining himself and his circumstance was supremely difficult. He took a breath. This was his first, last, best, and only chance to have Lilith for himself. “I came to ask for your help, Richard.”

“Why, did you kill another peer and need another convenient cellar to dump him in?”

With some difficulty he ignored Lord Hutton’s sarcasm. “As we were removing Wenford from the Bentons’ floor, Lil dropped an earring. Dolph found it with Old Hatchet Face’s remains in his cellar.”

Richard’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t heard any such thing.”

Jack nodded. “That’s because the only one Wenford’s shown it to is Lilith, to force her to wed him.” The baron would have interrupted, but Jack raised a hand.
“It strikes me as rather odd that a man who’s hell-bent on claiming his uncle has been murdered would manufacture a bottle of port, and then hide the one true piece of evidence of possible foul play.”

Richard’s expression sharpened. “What do you mean, he ‘manufactured’ the bottle of port? You said you gave it to Wenford.”

“I gave Old Hatchet Face
a
bottle of port. Not the one found in his study.”

“And you know this is an entirely different bottle because…”

“Because when I broke into His Grace’s study the night before his body was discovered, the bottle wasn’t there. I don’t think Wenford even returned home between White’s and calling on Lilith. More likely, he trundled off to his nephew’s and informed him that he was going to marry Lil and get a son, and would no longer be paying Dolph’s gambling debts.”

“You broke into…” Richard trailed off and shook his head. “I don’t even want to know.” He bowed his head, turning the trowel absently in his hands. “You think Dolph killed Wenford, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

Slowly Richard blew out his breath. “You’re going to have the devil of a time proving anything. It will be Wenford’s word against yours. And you most definitely have the more spotty reputation.”

“Thank you,” Jack replied caustically. “I’m already aware of that. Do you have any more helpful ideas?”

“Considering what I heard this morning, I’m not certain there’s anything that can be done.”

Something in Richard’s expression warned Jack that he wouldn’t like what was coming. “And what did you hear, pray tell?”

“That the port remaining in the bottle in question was tested on a handful of rats. They died.”

“So Dolph put arsenic in a damned bottle of port and left it in his uncle’s study,” Jack exploded, then swore. “It’s so bloody obvious, it’s pathetic.”

“It’s obvious to you. To everyone else, you’re a blackguard who’s already killed a woman. What’s one ill-liked duke added into that equation? Especially one who’s stolen a piece of land from you?”

Jack clenched his jaw and fixed his gaze on the long row of roses. “Not much.”

Richard looked at him and sighed. “Miss Benton might come forward and attest that Wenford died in her presence and at a very early hour. It would put the bottle issue into dispute.”

The marquis shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“She hates scandal.” And he hadn’t helped the issue by rendering Wenford naked, though he still had a difficult time regretting the action.

“Jack, I’m not certain you appreciate how serious this is becoming. The bottle clearly contained poison, and you were seen by numerous witnesses handing it, or an identical one, over to the old duke. You could go to trial for this, and then the true circumstances would come out anyway.”

The marquis shook his head. “No, they would not. I’ll not put her through that.”

“You’d rather let Prinny get his hands on Dansbury and see you off to Australia in chains, then? Our dear Majesty has been lusting after your estate for years, you know. It’s closer to London than Brighton, and it’d be considerably less expensive to convert into his idiotic ‘pleasure palace.’”

“I’m aware of that. And yes, I would rather see Dans
bury gone than break my word to Miss Benton.” Surprising as it was to him, it was the truth. He’d rather die than hurt Lilith.

For the first time, a slight smile touched Richard’s face. “I see. Just how badly do you have it?”