The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (98 page)

“Perry!”

He rounded the piano, setting her petite frame on the lid at the front of the piano. His fingers traced down the backs of her thighs. His hands caught beneath her knees as he lifted her away from him, opened the fall, and placed her feet wide on the keyboard with a low and high complaint from the piano.

“Perry, not the keys, I—”

“Shhh. You are interrupting genius here,” he said, then kissed her blunt on the lips and sat in front of her, looking at his hands on the keys. “Every genius needs a muse and I—” He glanced up and his breath caught as he took in the view he’d created. Lilly, wide on his piano. “I, my sweet, sweet Lilly, I’m no different.” He shifted on the bench. “Perhaps this was a bad idea,” he mumbled, moving his fingers, which seemed to tangle themselves before even attempting a chord.

He started in on a lilting melody; he thought a tribute to Brahms in order considering the lesson on his piano, but then when he glanced up again he fumbled, losing the tune.

“I believe this calls for something a bit more, eh, up tempo?” He repositioned his hands. He started slow and lilting, then beat at the keys, the sound emanating loud and raucous. The entire piano shook beneath her, the vibrations coursing through her toes and resting in her hips. He smiled up at her. “Brahms would roll in his grave for this one!” he yelled over the tune.

Lilly laughed and held on to the edge of the piano lid tightly, for fear of being bounced off. “What...whatever is this?” she asked through her giggles.

“This, my dear, is something my mother used to play for me. I haven’t heard it anywhere else. I believe it to be American.” He continued his harassment of the keys. Lilly was laughing so hard her foot slipped from the keyboard and she landed rather unceremoniously in Perry’s lap.

“Well, my dear, you have but to ask me the one time.” He gathered her to him, kissing and pulling and tearing at her clothes until they were joined beneath her ruined skirts, both screaming and grunting as they worked hard toward their end.

“Lilly...Lilly!” he yelled as he fell back and she followed, the two of them landing on the floor behind him, his breath knocked out.

She sat up quickly with a start, her hands touching either side of his jaw. “Perry? Are you all right?” She moved his head back and forth to rouse him.

His hands on her hips startled her. “Lilly, don’t move, I— Lord, just…give me a moment, I beg you.”

She leaned over him, kissing everywhere she could reach.

“Perry, I’m so sorry!”

He coughed, then breathed deeply and opened his eyes. Lifted his knees and kicked the piano bench away. He cleared his throat.

“It wasn’t your fault. I should never have set you on my instrument,” he said with a sly grin.

She wiggled her hips. “Your instrument seems to have survived.” She leaned over his chest on her crossed hands.

He pressed into her. “I leave you with no doubt as to the condition of said instrument.”

Her eyes closed and her mouth parted as his rhythm gained. She pushed

against his chest, rising to give him more depth, and cried out on his thrust.

“What...was...that...song?” she breathed.

“She called it the Pineapple Rag.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I love it.”

Lilly collapsed on a cry, melting into his tensed body.

Then, once he caught his breath: “Shall I play it again?”

Their peaceful reverie was broken by a knock at the main door so powerful they heard it at the back of the house.

“Damn.”

Lilly lifted her head from his chest and smiled, then began the slow process of extracting herself from his arms. “I’ll leave you to it, I need to freshen up a bit. Again.”

Perry grumbled as he heard the butler moving from his study to the parlor and knew the music room was about three doors farther on his hunt. He fastened his trousers and righted the piano bench—noting a pronounced wobble—then stood and attempted to reorder himself before the door swung wide.

“Milord, Warrick and Calder.” Perry turned quickly at the tenor in his voice. “The entry, my lord, they say there’s no time.”

Perry glanced around the room to ensure Lilly was safely with him, then remembered she’d gone upstairs to change. He walked to the front of the house.

“Warrick, Calder.”

“Perry, they’ve found a girl.”

Perry stilled. “Where?”

“Hyde. At the Serpentine, near Rotten Row,” Calder answered solemnly.

“It was him.” His cousins nodded in agreement. “And where is he?” Perry looked to Calder.

“The man I had on him hasn’t been heard from since Grenville’s, which doesn’t bode well for him.”

Perry rubbed his temple. “That’s still Westminster, but I’m assuming CID is involved. Who do we know?”

“Chief Inspector Cutbush,” Warrick said quietly.

Perry and Calder turned to him. “Can he be trusted?”

Warrick shook his head stiffly.

Perry groaned. “Is anyone still at Hyde or have they taken her— Good lord. Do they know who she is?”

“No, according to Cutbush she wasn’t readily recognizable. Her clothing might be working class or it could be that it was just severely damaged by whatever was done to her and she is lower gentry. They aren’t yet sure,” Calder said.

Perry’s stomach twisted. He should never have let Hepplewort out of his sight. He looked to Warrick. “Find him. Now.”

“I’m working on it. I believe he may have left London, but I wouldn’t be too sure. Don’t leave Lilly alone.”

“Aunt—”

“My men are with her,” Calder said quickly. Perry nodded, his head pounding with the movement. His only concern the night before had been Lilly, and now—
now
. He felt someone take his shoulder; he felt the squeeze and the brisk shake. He felt it all as though he were merely an observer.

“Perry—”

He wasn’t sure who said it.

“Don’t. I’ll see to Lilly. We are to quit London. But Hepplewort—”

“I will see to Hepplewort.” This was definitely from Warrick.

“I’ll never forgive myself.”

“For what?”

They all turned on Lilly in unison and she stepped back a pace, her smile falling. “For...what?” she asked again, warily. Perry looked back to his cousins, then took Lilly’s hand and led her to his study.

For a time there was no sound. Then a deafening shriek carried from the study and Calder looked to Warrick. “He must be found.” Warrick nodded once, then turned for the door.

Hepplewort paced in the inn as Morgan tracked him over the edge of his pint.

“Damn it, Morgan. Why did he have to make me angry? Why did he do that? Shouldn’t he understand by now that I am no one to be trifled with?”

Morgan continued to watch. He was growing weary of the man’s constant gibbering. It had been worth it to stay with him since his propensities leaned close to his own, specifically where women were concerned. And he was easily led. But he was tired of the man’s incessant maundering and questioned whether it was worth the effort. The duke and viscount were likely to end him soon anyway, so he would do well to be gone by then.

“Morgan! Aren’t you listening?”

Morgan grunted.

“I want the girl. I want Lilly.”

Morgan smiled.

Warrick’s first stop was Alsatia, to meet with Gunn, Hepplewort’s book maker. He had no luck, other than to learn Hepplewort had notified Gunn the day before that his rooms on Talbot Street were now his. It appeared likely that Hepplewort had taken their threats at face value and was determined to quit London. If he’d no place to stay, it meant he intended to leave.

Warrick went to the rooms next anyway and found them empty . He wasn’t sure about the mother, though she hadn’t attended the ball, so perhaps he sent her off early yesterday. There were no servants left behind, no men to speak on what had happened. It seemed to be yet another dead end.

He made his way to Scotland Yard to speak with Cutbush. He might not trust him, but Cutbush knew better than to cross Warrick. He hoped he could glean some information. It turned out they already suspected Hepplewort, but Cutbush wouldn’t say why. The information wasn’t going to help him find the earl, but it would get him closer to his ultimate goal.

Chasing more tails, Warrick only managed to discover that accounts were closed, debts reconciled, and Hepplewort was merely a shadow.

He was gone.

Perry held Lilly. He’d never felt so hopeless in all his life. It felt as though his heart would stop, then only because he forced it to, would start again. There was no consoling her.