Stolen Kisses (26 page)

“Yes, my lord?”

“Did I request a particular bottle that evening?”

“Not that I recall, my lord.”

“And for what purpose did I request the bottle?”

Freeling cleared his throat. “You said you didn’t want to drink any more house swill, and you’d have one of your own, my lord.”

Jack turned back to Richard and lifted an eyebrow. “Shall I have a drink from each of them?”

“Fifty quid for each bottle he lives through!” Lord Hunt called, the wager swiftly taken up by others.

The bet seemed a sound one, and Jack wouldn’t have minded putting a few pounds on himself. “Why not?”

Richard hurriedly shook his head and motioned for Peese to collect the crate. “No. Let me take the rest to an alchemist. I’ll round up some more witnesses, and we’ll test the remainder in a more scientific, if slightly less spectacular, manner.”

Jack put his hand over the case before Peese lifted it. “And you won’t let it out of your sight?” he said softly, catching Richard’s gaze, making certain he knew just how much trust Jack was placing in his brother-in-law.

Richard looked straight back at him. “I’ll not let it out of my sight,” he confirmed.

The marquis stepped away from the table. “All right, then. Goodnight, gentleman.”

Another point to his favor, and before he continued the battle, Jack admitted to himself that he wanted to see Lilith again. It was almost puppyish, his craving to be in her presence the way a bee craved flowers. The Lord knew he’d been foolish before, but for the first time he felt as though it might be for the right reason. And if nothing else, he needed to warn her about Dolph Remdale’s way of dealing with women. If the bastard laid a finger on Lil, he would be lucky to live long enough to regret it.

Having become something of an aficionado of irony since beginning her acquaintance with Dansbury, Lilith looked up into the cloudless skies above Hyde Park and smiled. It seemed that the darker and more confused her own life became, the better weather London was having. She leaned forward to pet the withers of her mare, Polly, and sighed, trying for a moment to forget how much trouble both she and Jack were in.

“What did you say to your aunt this morning?” Penelope asked from beside her as they toured the Lady’s Mile. Milgrew waited in the shade a respectful distance away. “She was absolutely beaming.”

Lilith shrugged. “I said I would gladly accept His Grace’s invitation to a picnic tomorrow.” She wondered if that wasn’t the main reason for her raised spirits this morning. Finally she was doing something, instead of merely agreeing to what everyone else expected of her. True, everyone might think she was still being dutiful and proper, because no one else knew precisely why she wanted to spend more time with Dolph Remdale. And hopefully he wouldn’t realize it, either—at least, not until she had discovered for certain if, how, and why he had killed his uncle.

“You said
what?
” Pen asked, lifting both delicate eyebrows. “Last night the thought of ever seeing him again made you ill. And what about Lord Dans—”

“Hush, Pen,” Lilith admonished. “I know what I’m doing.” At least, she hoped she did.

Pen was shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but…” She trailed off, looking over Lil’s shoulder. Penelope blushed, a smile lighting her face and her eyes. “Good afternoon, Mr. Benton,” she said.

“Miss Sanford,” William returned.

Lilith turned around to see her brother rein in beside them. He was mounted on that monstrously expensive
black stallion Jack had convinced him he must own. Now that Lilith looked at Thor with a kinder eye, though, she had to admit that he was a magnificent beast.

“I thought you’d be occupied with your cronies,” Lilith said, looking at her brother curiously. He seemed distracted about something, though she had no idea what it might be. She was well aware, though, that the only thing that seemed to distract him lately was Antonia St. Gerard.

“My cronies have scattered to the four winds. The only one I can ever find is Jack, and Father’ll thrash me if I speak to him again.”

That was nothing compared to what their father would do to her if he ever found out about her and Jack. “What about Miss St. Gerard? Last week it was picnics and horse races every day.”

“Antonia’s nocturnal, mostly,” he answered, his distracted look deepening.

“Is something wrong?” Pen asked him before Lilith could.

William looked at Penelope. “Hm? Oh, nothing. Just got my mind a bit occupied, is all.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Gadzooks, no,” William answered, flushing. Abruptly he pounded his fist against the pommel of his saddle. “Sometimes females are just too agreeable,” he blurted out.

Lilith and Pen looked at one another, and Penelope giggled. “Any female—any person—who is
too
agreeable is after something,” Pen said.

William tilted his head to look more closely at her, his expression changing a little. “You’re never cross, Miss Sanford,” he pointed out.

“I am frequently cross,” Pen countered easily. “I am merely cross at the correct times.”

“But how is anyone supposed to know—”

A commotion began across the clearing, and Lilith turned again. A bay gelding came charging toward them, riderless. Polly shifted nervously, and Lilith sternly reined her in. “What in the—”

“That’s Jack’s bay. Benedick,” William said, turning Thor and kicking him in the ribs.

The stallion snorted and sprinted off toward the gelding. The horse stopped as soon as her brother leaned over to catch the dangling reins, and in fact looked almost relieved to do so. Lilith looked about in alarm, her breath catching, to see where Benedick’s rider might be. Finally she spied him, strolling toward them through the park, unmindful of the other pedestrians moving out of his path to avoid him.

“My thanks, William,” he said in a carrying voice when still some distance away. “I was chatting with Lady Henry, and the old boy got away from me.”

“You are unhurt, then?” Lilith asked, trying to keep her voice cool.

He glanced in her direction. “Quite, Miss Benton.” Lord Dansbury accepted the reins from William and swung up into the saddle. As he brought Benedick around, he passed close by Lilith. “Leave your window open tonight, m’dear,” he murmured, and with a grin and a jaunty wave of his hat at Penelope, he was gone back across the park.

“Benedick got away from him, my left bootstrap,” William muttered, looking with some awe at his former idol. “That horse is closer to human than some of the fellows I’ve played against.” He shook his head. “Wonder what the devil he’s up to this time.”

“Perhaps he misses you,” Penelope suggested, though when Lilith looked up, her friend’s gaze was not on her brother. “Seems everyone’s abandoned him.”

“Not necessarily by choice,” her brother grumbled, then sighed and straightened. “May I buy you ladies an ice?”

“I’d love one.” Pen smiled, and William settled Thor in beside her mare while Lilith followed behind.

Her heart was racing and her mind tumbling about incoherently. If she had any sense left at all, she would lock and bar her windows and doors tonight. She smiled a little, knowing she would do no such thing. Jack was coming by.

“That brings back some memories,” Martin commented soberly, stepping back to survey his employer.

Jack lifted his arms and turned, eyeing himself in the dressing mirror. The dark breeches and coarse black shirt and coat brought back memories for him as well, most of them unpleasant. Telling Lilith that he and Richard had “mucked about” the French and Belgian countryside did little justice to the work they had accomplished in the name of God and country. And while it had been necessary, much of it had been bloody awful. Some of it even worse than that.

“Yes, it does,” he said, picking up his heavy, dark gloves and glancing toward the window. With the night, fog was beginning to roll in. That would make creeping about in the dark easier, for he had no wish to be seen climbing into Lil’s window. “Any word from Peese?”

Martin shook his head as he straightened up the dressing table. “I think you wounded his pride, my lord, when you said he should have known more about His Grace’s household. As soon as he returned from his assignation with Lord Hutton, he went off and said he’d be back tonight.”

“He picked a splendid time to go wandering off,” Jack grumbled. “The last thing I need is for my butler
to be discovered peeping through Remdale windows, or under the skirts of Remdale housemaids.” He made his way to his study, where he took one of his pistols from its case and loaded it. So far Dolph had been satisfied with rumors and cheap theatrics, but Jack had no intention of going about alone in the dark without some protection. The old duke had been mad, and he’d seen no reason to believe any differently of Dolph.

“And what might you be about, my lord?”

Jack spun, pistol gripped in his hand, as Peese leaned into the doorway. “Information. And where in damnation have you been?” He stalked past the butler into the foyer, set down the gun, and waited for Peese to help him into an old, patched greatcoat.

“Getting some information of my own,” the butler replied, returning the pistol to Jack, who dumped it into his deep pocket. “The butler’s gone.”

Jack paused, then looked over his shoulder. “What? Whose butler?”

“Wenford’s. About four days ago. No one belowstairs knows where or why. And no one’s daft enough to ask His Grace where Frawley might be.”

“What sort of gentleman was Frawley?” Jack asked slowly.

The butler pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Cook said Mr. Remdale hired Frawley because he was an old stuff, tighter than the former Wenford’s purse.”

“The kind of fellow who might not enjoy being employed by someone doing something underhanded, you might say?” Jack pursued.

Peese grinned. “Unlike ourselves, of course.”

It made sense. Dolph would hire London’s stuffiest butler for the prestige. The fact that such an upright individual had disappeared without a trace could mean that Frawley had discovered some information that either
Dolph or the poor butler was uncomfortable with him having. The whole supposition was mostly guesswork, but they had little else to chase after. “Do you have any idea where this Frawley might be?”

“Not yet. I will.”

“Splendid.” Jack turned for the front door.

“My lord, are you certain you don’t wish some company?” Martin asked.

“No. And don’t wait up. I’ll be back late.”

“His Grace wants you dead, my lord,” Peese insisted earnestly. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone.”

“He said he wanted me ruined,” Jack pointed out.

“Hanging’ll do that.”

Jack gave a short grin. “You saved my life once already, the two of you. I’ll be fine.”

Peese frowned. “You couldn’t have known Genevieve Bruseille was going to turn traitor on you like that. Me and Martin and Lord Hutton, we trusted her, too.”

The marquis wasn’t in the mood to discuss his past errors of judgment, particularly when he was likely headed directly into another one. “That was five years ago. It’s done and ended. Now, open the door, man.” He started forward again, then paused. “And if I should fail to return, tell Richard I was on my way to see William Benton. Nothing more.”

“My lord?”

Jack shrugged and stepped through the door. “If I’m dead, it’ll be too late for me to enjoy the scandal, anyway.” With a nod at his servants, the marquis headed out into the darkness.

On the off chance that Dolph was having Faraday House watched. Jack left his property by way of the garden wall, as Lilith had done several days ago. The heavy pistol thudded against his thigh as he walked
down the street in the night shadows, further reminding him of late nights in the fog of Paris.

Not only had he trusted Genevieve, he had been stupid enough to think himself in love with her. And she’d betrayed him to Bonaparte, though whether it was for blunt or out of fear or patriotism, he’d never discovered. What he did know was that what he’d done that night—and what he’d done over the subsequent five years trying to forget it—had left him with a reputation so tarnished, he still couldn’t believe Lilith Benton had ever dared speak to him, much less willingly become his lover. Even now, he wondered how far she would let him carry this before she turned him away and gave in to her father’s wishes.

A few lights still shone in Benton House. He slipped onto the property through the garden hedge and then made his way around to the rose trellis fastened to the south wall. Carefully he began to climb, stifling a curse as the damned thorns cut through his gloves and snagged his greatcoat.
Why couldn’t Lilith have chosen violets or some bloody geraniums as her favorite flower?

At the top of the trellis he stepped onto the roof and scrambled quietly across the eave. Lilith’s window was halfway open, and he peered inside, caution and a nagging sense that he had absolutely no right to be there making him pause. The bed was made and the room dark. He gently pushed the glass open the rest of the way and stepped over the sill.

“Lilith?” he said softly into the darkness, pulling off his gloves.

“I’m here,” she said, and stepped forward into the moonlit pool before the window.

She was in her nightgown, her long black hair hanging loose down her back. In the dark, the delicate lavender scent of her hair was sweeter than any perfume,
and almost without thinking, he reached out to pull her against him by the front of her nightgown. Jack bent his head to capture her soft, warm lips with his own. With a sigh he tangled his other hand through her silky tresses, feeling her immediate response to his embrace, and very aware of his own. And half the bloody
ton
thought her an Ice Queen.

“Jack,” she breathed, pulling away a little, “please tell me you didn’t actually test those bottles of port by
drinking
out of them?”

The anger in her tone pleased him. “I only drank out of one of them,” he corrected.

She curled her hand into a fist and hit him in the chest. Hard. “That was stupid. Jack!” she hissed. “If Dolph had thought to change the bottles, you’d—”