The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (95 page)

“The Grenvilles.”

“Send a missive, let them know to expect me as well.”

Calder and Warrick arrived at Trumbull House early that evening and waited in Perry’s study for him to come down.

“You’re sure he’s attending the Grenvilles?” asked Warrick.

“Absolutely. His response was...intercepted.”

Perry entered the study and poured himself a brandy. “Does this mean that if he doesn’t attend he will be missed?”

“Not at all, merely that I’ve no doubt where he’s expected to be,” Calder replied.

Perry nodded, holding the balloon over the warming candle lit on the sideboard next to the tantalus. He swirled the fine liquor, watching it catch the light and bend it to its will. He turned toward the chairs where his cousins rested. “Do we have any sort of plan as to how we should proceed?”

Warrick looked up from beneath his eyelashes. It had been years since Perry had spent much time with him, as he’d recently returned from abroad, where he’d spent most of his adult life. The sudden death of his father had required a hasty return, and there were many unanswered questions as to where he’d been and what he’d been doing for all of a decade. “I’ve an inkling, though I don’t imagine it’s going to go well. The trouble, as I see it, is that for there to be cause, he must be caught in the act of doing something quite indefensible.”

“We
know
his acts to be indefensible.” Perry groaned.

“Don’t be foolish, Perry,” Calder said. “We all want to see him taken care of, but not at the expense of something as vital as your life.”

“I want him dead,” he replied easily.

“That can be arranged, of course.” Perry and Calder turned at how easily Warrick had dispensed those words. He took no notice. “In which case you should be nowhere near this man.”

Perry and Calder glanced at each other, eyes wide in consideration. “Warrick is right,” Perry said after a pause. “Without cause, we should not proceed. Perhaps we merely wait. He cannot possibly stay true to his word for long, and
you
are no longer able to disappear into the night with that title hanging over your head.”

Warrick scowled, seemingly angered by his bonds. “This was not my choice, merely an accident of birth. I didn’t live by the rules of the peers while I was…” He shook his head. “And I do not wish to live by them now.”

Calder exchanged a glance with Perry as he stood. “Let’s be off, shall we?” he said jovially, trying to break the heavy mood.

Warrick nodded and followed. He was the tallest of the cousins by inches, and the most intense by demeanor.

“You make Roxleigh look like a puppy,” Perry said with a wink to Calder.

Calder chuckled, clapping Perry on the back. “I do believe you are quite accurate in that assessment,” he said, looking at Warrick. “And what will the
ton
think of you?”

Warrick grunted as Perry studied him.

“I’ve yet to be introduced to the
ton
, particularly as I’ve yet to be interested in the
ton
,” Warrick said.

“You’ll find they need you, more than you need them,” Perry replied.

“Well, are we off to Lady Grenville’s?” Calder asked impatiently.

“By all means,” Warrick muttered.

Perry set his brandy on the sideboard and followed Calder through the hall. Harper was waiting with his cape, top hat, gloves, and cane.

“What the bloody hell is that?” Warrick asked, kicking at Perry’s walking stick. “I’d no idea you were quite so fashionable,” he said with a half grin.

Perry smiled. “Cunning, chap. In fact, this would be my only weapon when I travel the streets of London unescorted.” He lifted the cane and pulled the end. The intricately carved handle clicked and slid from the base, revealing a narrow silver blade.

Warrick’s face broke in a smile as he reached for it. The blade sang from its unconventional sheath and he smoothed his hands down the well-honed steel. “This is no toy.” He tested the blade with his thumb. He flicked it, then measured the weight in his hand. “Well balanced, though the hilt is a bit awkward at first.” Warrick thrust, then swept the blade in front of him, testing the feel as Calder and Perry backed away and Harper stepped behind them. “I want one.”

Perry laughed. “Well, if you don’t mind looking
fashionable
I’ll have one made for you, only you’ll need to choose the hilt and pommel. Consider it a welcome home gift.”

Warrick smiled and nodded, holding the sword carefully at the hilt and gesturing for the scabbard. Perry handed it to him, and Warrick sheathed the delicately carved blade, listening to the solid click as it seated. “Impressive, very well crafted,” he said approvingly.

Perry took the weapon when offered. “Should I be concerned that this is the most animated and interested I’ve seen you since we were both in short coats?”

Warrick’s mouth curved in a genuine smile, and Perry realized just how much he had in common with Gideon. Perry could see the unadulterated appreciation in his expression. Much like Gideon and his horses, or his lands, or Francine. It was a striking exhibition on one who was generally so bereft of discernible happiness. While Perry ruminated, Warrick looked around for Harper, who seemed to have disappeared.

As it happened Harper was just outside the foyer, patiently waiting for the men to quit their perusal of the blade. He stepped into the foyer when Perry took the cane, moving to retrieve the duke’s cape and hat.

“You know, if you like this blade you should see the weapon I carried in the navy. I didn’t have much cause to test it, but know it to be a very well-honed rapier,” Perry said.

“Yes,” Warrick said, “I would like to, at some point. Perhaps we should spar,” he offered as they walked out the door.

“By all means. I’ve no doubt that would be quite enjoyable. Let us meet over foils,” Perry said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Should I feel left out for not having any weaponry training?” Calder asked jovially.

“Yes,” Perry and Warrick replied in tandem.

They laughed as they mounted the carriage and were swept off in the night toward Stanhope Place off Hyde Park.

Morgan watched as the carriage pulled away from the Grosvenor Square town house, grumbling as he looked up to the dimmed windows. He snapped the rein, moving the carriage through the street around the park. Roxleigh House at the other end of the square was equally dark and hadn’t been warmed since the duke quit London a month prior.

He didn’t know of a residence for the Duke of Warrick, though he must be somewhere near the upper end. He groaned and snapped the rein again, bound for Calder House. If any of the Trumbull clan were left behind, Calder House was where they would be.

Hepplewort wanted some sport. His mother showing up had raised his dander. Morgan had been sent to find the girl who was fueling the rumors throughout the
ton.
A bride for a bride.

Lilly looked at her form in the mirror. She was amazed what a well-trained seamstress could accomplish in one afternoon. The dress was the same color everyone said belonged to her, a vibrant crimson in long flowing silks. She had also been fitted into a snug whalebone corset and multiple petticoats over a steel cage support that drew the majority of the fabric up in billowy gathers at the back. The dress was trimmed in a matching georgette, finishing the neckline to perfection.

The maid assigned to help her had drawn her hair up into a large, rolling pile of curls woven through with red satin ribbons. The curls spilled from the top of the pile to bounce cheerfully around her cheeks and over her forehead.

She caressed the necklace that Perry had given her. He had given it to his aunt for Lilly to wear, should they attend a suitable event. She pulled the long pale gloves up over her elbows, until they nearly touched the sleeves of her ball gown, and shook her head.

She heard a quiet knock at her door and turned. “Yes?”

The door swept open to reveal the duchess all done up in a lavender creation, her blonde locks tied up with ribbons of every color.

“Oh, Lilly, you’re a vision!” she exclaimed, walking forward to take her hands.

“I’m quite uneasy, Your Grace. I’m not entirely sure of this.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. The lady is a dear friend of mine, and we shall sit and enjoy her company. Nothing more than companionship will be required of you tonight. I’ll make your apologies for you so you won’t be requested to dance.”

Lilly shook her head. “It all seems so simple when you explain it.”

“That’s because it is simple. Let’s be off.” Auberry pulled Lilly down the stairs and to the entry, where Albert waited with their capes.

“Sarah Jane, how wonderful it is to see you,” Auberry said, taking her friend’s hand and sitting in the chaise next to her. She looked back to Lilly, then pulled her down to sit at her other side.

“Is this the bit of distraction that has kept your Trumbull from attending the Season?” Sarah Jane whispered behind her fan.

“Why, yes, in fact.” Auberry pushed the fan aside with a wink. “Might I present you Miss Lilly Steele of Kelso. Lilly, this is the Lady Grenville. She—”

“What, pray tell, are you ladies doing here?”

Lilly jumped. She didn’t need to look to know who was standing behind her. She turned to find Perry with his cousins flanking him and smiled nervously, deferring to the duchess.

“Why, Trumbull, what do you mean by asking what we’re doing here? Whyever are
you
here? I thought for certain you would be at Lord Tremayne’s this evening.”

“And with me safely at Tremayne’s you ladies are able to gad about town attending unscheduled routs?” He had seen Lilly the second she entered the ballroom, as had every virile man within the walls. His eyes traveled the length of her, twice, from her broad sweeping crimson skirts to the tightly fitted bodice that held her posture perfectly, to the sheer sleeves that, along with the low neckline, framed the necklace he’d had made for her.

He couldn’t help but to gaze at the heavy stone resting at the base of her throat. It moved with her pulse, ever so gently. The large gaslight chandeliers cast a glow about the room, making her hair shine. The loose curls which framed her face cast dancing shadows across her skin.

He was suddenly frustrated that everyone felt the need to hide her scars. He thought she was beautiful, regardless. Her face was perfect, her eyes glowing, her lips full and sweet, her nose pert and slightly turned up at the end. She was stunning, and he felt like nobody had ever noticed save him. Then he looked around the room to find that once again every gent in attendance
was
taking note. He was well and thoroughly distracted by her.

Perry heard the opening strains of a waltz and leaned over to whisper in Lilly’s ear. “Do you waltz?”

“With my father and my brothers at the local fairs. I don’t know that it would have been considered proper.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he said as he turned to Warrick. “Mind my stick?”

“Not at all, Perry, but—”

Perry waved him off, never taking his eyes from Lilly. Warrick took the cane, twirling it in his hand as he balanced the weight.

“Give the man a weapon and he becomes all too genial.” Calder chuckled as Warrick ran his hand over the concealed blade.

Perry turned to Lilly and, taking her hand, he led her to the edge of the dance floor. He stepped out and swept her in front of him, her skirts making a great arc, drawing the attention of the room. He pulled her around the room, her head falling back as she laughed. He saw the light glint off her hair, the sparkle in her eyes, the brightness in her smile, and he felt for all the world a success.

She was a treasure, and right now she was his. He had every intention of making that permanent.

His hand tightened on hers and she looked up at him, amazed by the reflected joy in his eyes. She felt the movement of his muscles in his shoulder, the hand on her waist, the other holding hers warmly, leading her through turns, sweeping her in giddy circles.

The music faded and she frowned. He pulled her in two more sweeping turns as the floor cleared, then he bowed before her. Her fingertips brushed her mouth as she laughed. He took her hand, placing it on his arm to lead her to the terrace.