Authors: Suzanne Enoch
Jack shrugged uncomfortably. Being in love was new and precious enough that he didn’t wish to discuss it with anyone. Certainly not with someone who hated him. “Badly enough, I suppose.”
“I owe Alison another ten quid, then. She said you were addle-brained over Miss Benton.”
“I am not addle-brained,” Jack stated, annoyed. “Now, do you mind if we return to determining how I am to clear my name without involving Lil?”
Richard cleared his throat. “Does she know about…your past?”
“She knows I killed a woman, yes.”
“Damnation, Dansbury,” Richard exploded, “I keep throwing bait at you, and you simply ignore it. For the last time, will you tell me what happened that night?”
The marquis looked at him for a long moment. He wanted to, and for the first time, he thought Richard might actually listen. “After we come up with a plan,” he hedged.
Richard threw up his hands. “That’s simple. Get Dolph to confess he killed his uncle to gain the inheritance. Short of that, I don’t think you have a prayer.”
Jack straightened. “That’s what I thought. My thanks. Good day.” He started to offer his hand, but wasn’t certain the baron would take it. Instead, he headed for the garden gate.
“Jack?”
The marquis turned to face his brother-in-law. “Why did you decide to speak to me today, Richard?”
He shrugged. “The other night, at Bea’s party, I saw
you with Miss Benton. Your good side was showing. I simply hadn’t seen it in five years, and I’d forgotten you had one.”
Jack nodded again and continued to walk away, then on impulse stopped. Lilith was so concerned with the importance of family, and it seemed foolish that he was barely allowed to speak to his. Little as he cared to admit it, he missed their easy companionship from time to time. And there were occasions when he actually disliked being alone.
“That day…in France—when I broke down the hotel room door to capture Genevieve, she went mad. She screamed and grabbed a knife, and came after me. I kept trying to shove her away, to get the knife away from her, but she wouldn’t stop screaming. She was making so damned much noise, shrieking bloody murder, and I was afraid those two blasted soldiers with her would come crashing in any moment—”
“So you stabbed her.”
Dammit, Richard. “They came close enough to hanging me the first time she betrayed us. I didn’t know where you were, and I couldn’t risk letting her get away—”
“Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t just revenge?”
“You didn’t give me a chance.”
Richard hesitated. “I suppose not. Blood all over the room, all over you, the look on your face, soldiers pounding up the back stairs…”
“You had enough time to call me a damned murderer, as I recall.” Jack looked at his brother-in-law and shrugged. “You were my friend, Richard. After everything we’d been through…I was too hurt that you’d believe I could have done…that, for revenge. And then later, I suppose I was too proud.”
“Jack—”
He yanked the gate open. “But you were right. I
am
a murderer. I didn’t have to kill her, I should have found some other way.”
Richard didn’t say anything, just watched him as he swung up on Benedick and rode back toward the middle of Mayfair.
Jack’s next task looked to be at least as difficult, but just as necessary. It took some searching, but finally he found his quarry in one of Bond Street’s more exclusive rare gem establishments. “William,” he said, grinning, and slapped his young companion on the back.
For once, William looked less than pleased to see him. “Jack, what brings you here?” he asked stiffly, quickly placing a diamond-studded necklace back onto the velvet bag which had held it. “I’m not supposed to be seen with you any longer. This morning Father spent twenty minutes preaching the gospel of avoiding the Marquis of Dansbury to Lilith and me. And poor Lili’s got enough to worry about, marrying that bore Wenford.”
Jack glanced at the necklace. A thousand quid worth of stones, at least. “You bring me here,
mon ami
. I’ve been neglecting you, I fear. I intend to make it up to you. An evening at the Society, I thought.”
“I’m occupied tonight, Jack,” William returned, still obviously distracted.
Jack slipped an arm around the boy’s shoulders and edged him toward the door, away from any prying ears. “William, might I ask you a question?”
“I’m rather busy right now. Perhaps we could—”
“Have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse with anyone besides Antonia?” he interrupted casually, tightening his grip when William tried to break away.
“Well, of course,” William answered indignantly, flushing. “I’ve not had as many conquests as you, I’m certain, but—well, what bloody business is it of yours, anyway?”
“Intimacy tends to sway one’s heart when one is unused to it,” Jack said easily. “I’ve known some young fools, much less intelligent than you, who have misinterpreted lust for love, and offered for the first chit they bedded. Just wanted to be certain you know what you’re up to.”
William pulled free, his expression angry as he shrugged his coat back into place. “I know what
you’re
up to, Dansbury. I’m not an idiot, even if I don’t have memberships at half the clubs in town. At least I can still get into them.”
Jack kept his expression neutral. “I’ll overlook that, William, because your sister seems to find your repertoire amusing. But if you want to remain friends with me, I suggest you not continue in that vein.”
William swallowed, then took a breath. “I love Antonia, Jack, and I’m going to ask her to marry me. Whether you like it or not.”
Jack nodded. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I’m only saying you should make certain you’ve seen the true Antonia, not just the pretty face she’s painted for you. Answer me this. Have you ever disagreed with her? About anything?”
“No,” William boasted, his face still flushed. “We agree on everything. That’s why we’re so perfect for one another.”
“Have you ever known any two people who know each other well and who don’t argue?” His and Lilith’s various encounters immediately came to mind, and he stifled a smile.
“Well, of course—”
“I’ll wager you one thousand quid, William, that you can’t
make
her disagree with you. That she’ll voice no opinion that is not yours.”
“And what would that prove?”
Jack shrugged. “Nothing in particular. It might make you a fair wedding gift if you win.”
“I could lie about it and say we did argue.”
The marquis gave a slight grin. “You won’t. You come from the same blood as your sister. You won’t lie.”
William grimaced, glancing over at the bauble on the counter again. When he looked back at Jack, he was wearing his sly, self-confident expression. “When—
when
—I win this wager, you’ll purchase that necklace for me to give to Antonia. Agreed?”
Jack nodded. “Agreed. But if I win, you have to consider what I’ve said here. After that, you do as you see fit.”
They shook hands, and then the marquis strolled back out into the street, so pleased with the way things were going that he barely noticed the Countess of Devale cutting him. If Antonia St. Gerard reacted as he predicted, that was two down. Merely half a hundred to go.
Jack turned Benedick toward home. Lilith would be at the Mistners’ this evening, and luckily they’d sent him an invitation before the latest rumors had caused the stream of cards that flowed to his door to dry into a miserable trickle. Before he proceeded with anything against Dolph, he wanted her permission. If she had truly decided to marry the buffoon, he would…well, he supposed he would flee to Spain or to America and then get himself killed in a duel, unless he could convince himself to kidnap her and make off with her to Gretna Green. Jack smiled a little. By God, he was getting soft-headed.
With her forbidden to see him, he’d have to be careful tonight—the stakes of the game had been raised considerably. This wasn’t for amusement anymore. This was for forever.
Though Aunt Eugenia had been certain His Grace would attend the Mistners’ with them, apparently Lilith’s prayers had been heard. The Duke of Wenford sent his regrets, but he had a meeting with his solicitors he couldn’t escape. It seemed almost too convenient, and Lilith spent the coach ride to the ball worrying that Dolph was out causing more trouble for Jack. After last night, Jack’s troubles concerned her at least as much as her own.
She nearly tripped over Lionel Hendrick’s foot when, halfway through her waltz with the earl, she spied Dansbury. He stood just inside the doorway, talking with Ogden Price. Those nearest him had pointedly moved away, but he didn’t appear to have noticed. Lilith knew, though, that he had. At that moment, he glanced in her direction, offered her a slight smile, and returned to his conversation.
He should not have come. She had heard with dismay the news that the bottle in Wenford’s study contained poison, so he must know about it as well, and would know that no one would wish to speak to him, no woman would want to stand up with him for a dance. No woman except her, of course—and she didn’t dare. And yet he had come.
“Lilith?” Lionel looked down at her, and she blinked. His smile was a bit strained, as it had been since her engagement, but at least he had been a gentleman about the whole thing. “I do hope when the invitations for your wedding go out, that you will not choose to exclude me. I think that we have remained friends.”
Of course he wouldn’t wish to be excluded from the event of the Season. “I would not think of excluding you,” she answered, returning his smile.
His expression brightened. “I am pleased to hear that.”
Pen was waiting for her as the waltz ended and impulsively grabbed Lilith’s hand as she approached. “I think he does care for you,” she whispered, “because otherwise he would never be here tonight.”
“Or he’s just very stubborn,” Lilith supplied, trying to keep reality and her dreams from becoming even more tangled with one another.
“It’s so romantic,” Penelope continued. “Like Romeo daring to visit the house of Capulet to see Juliet.”
“Romeo went to the Capulet party to cause mischief,” Lilith corrected with a slight smile, her gaze automatically going to Jack. He was looking at her again, and with his chin gestured off toward the back of the house. At least she thought he might have—it was such a slight motion that she couldn’t be certain. “He’d never seen Juliet before that night.”
“Spoilsport,” Pen retorted. She glanced at the marquis. “I think he’s trying to catch your attention,” she continued in a low voice.
“You think so, too?” Lilith asked. “But I don’t know what he wants. I can’t very well dance with him.”
Pen squeezed her hands, then released them. “I will find out for you.”
“Pen!” Lilith exclaimed.
But her friend had already smiled directly at Dansbury, and then strolled over to the table to accept a glass of punch from a footman.
Jack looked from Penelope to Lilith, who gave a slight nod. Jack excused himself from Price and moved through the crowd toward the refreshment table. Belatedly realizing that she was staring, Lilith turned her back to earnestly contemplate a potted plant. It seemed an eternity before Pen came up beside her again. Her
friend’s color was high, and her pretty hazel eyes held an excited light.
“Lord Dansbury,” she said under her breath, joining Lilith’s study of the plant, “thinks you might enjoy the Thomas Lawrence portrait of Lord Mistner which hangs over the mantel in the drawing room.” Pen stifled a giggle. “And that you might like it best of all at half past midnight.”
Lilith looked over at the nearest clock. It was nearly that now. A shivering thrill went through her at the thought of speaking with him. She should not, she knew. She should forget him, ignore him, and make the best of what would hopefully be a marriage where the couple had as little to do with one another as possible. Arranged marriages happened all the time among her peers. Her own parents’ marriage had been arranged. Lilith grimaced, then glanced at Pen. “Thank you,” she whispered.
At precisely twenty-eight minutes after midnight, she approached a harried-looking Lady Mistner. “My lady,” she smiled, hoping no one could sense the rush of excitement running through her, “I heard that your husband was painted by Thomas Lawrence. I am a particular admirer of Mr. Lawrence, and I wondered if I might see the portrait?”
Lady Mistner glanced about her teeming ballroom and motioned to a servant to bring in a fresh platter of confections. “My dear…Miss Benton, I should be delighted to have you over to show you our newest treasure,” she smiled, commanding another footman to bring in more wine.
Lilith stifled a scowl. This was supposed to be simple. “Oh, I don’t mean to inconvenience you,” she protested. “I can go look at it on my own, of course.”
Her hostess sighed, obviously feeling put out. “I wouldn’t hear of it. This way, my dear.”
“Thank you, my lady, but really…”
Lady Mistner hurried off down the hallway, and with a muffled curse, Lilith quickly followed behind her.
“I assure you, my lady,” she continued in a loud voice as they reached the door, “I don’t wish to take you from the rest of your guests.”
The lady looked at her like she was some sort of oddity, then crinkled her eyes in another forced smile. “Nonsense, dear.” She pushed open the door. “If I do say so myself, this is among Mr. Lawrence’s finest works.”
Lilith looked frantically about the room, ready to exclaim her surprise at finding the Marquis of Dansbury there before them. He was nowhere to be seen. She frowned; then, as she noticed Lady Mistner turning in her direction, she quickly looked at the portrait hung above the fireplace. “Oh, my,” she gushed, clutching her hands together in admiration—and to disguise their trembling. “It’s magnificent.” She leaned over to look behind the couch, but Jack wasn’t there, either. “Quite stunning. The way he’s used the light…I do believe you’re right. This may be his finest piece.”
Lady Mistner’s smile warmed at the flattery. “I told Malcolm it was well worth the time spent sitting for it.”
“Oh, yes,” Lilith agreed. “He has captured the true essence of Lord Mistner, I do believe.”