The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (99 page)

“I want to take you home.”

“What?” She blinked tears from her lashes, her fingers stiff from holding onto him so tight.

“Let me take you home. I need to get you away from here. I need for you to be safe. Warrick will find Hepplewort, of this I’ve no doubt. But I want for you to be safe. I think you need your family just now.”

“And you?”

“It is time I spoke with your father.”

“I’m not sure I’m prepared to face them,” she said quietly. He considered this, and was suddenly wary. He was the one who wouldn’t be accepted. He was a peer, he had no right. What if her father refused—could he? Could he refuse to allow Lilly to marry him? But Mr. Steele looked up to Roxleigh. Yes, Roxleigh. Not him, the irreverent rake brother, but Roxleigh. He was terribly unsure of his next move. He knew without a doubt he wasn’t worthy of this woman. Perhaps to Gretna first to be married, then on to Kelso? He wasn’t feeling so brave at the prospect of facing Lilly’s father.

“We will face them together. What’s the worst that could happen? I would have to steal you away to be married by the blacksmith?” Kelso was in Scotland, after all.

“He’s my uncle,” she said with a small grin. Perry paused.

“To...a blacksmith...in another town?” he choked out. Lilly laughed quietly, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Perry, I— Oh, I don’t know. You are quite wicked.”

“So I’ve been told. I should make some arrangements. Since we are both residents of Scotland we shouldn’t have a problem being married anywhere we choose within the borders. I can only hope your father will approve of me.” His voice faded at the end. Quite the turn. Funny, that.

“You are truly worried, aren’t you?”

He knew his eyes were wider than they ought to be; he was also aware that his palms were a bit clammy. He wiped them down his trousers and looked back to Lilly. “Of course I’m not worried. If we can’t get married over the anvil as they do in Gretna, we’ll find some other thing to get married over—a saddle, perhaps. Have you any relation to the saddler?”

Lilly laughed, and the sound made him grin so broadly he thought his face would crack. But it was then the thought of the poor Serpentine girl crept back in, and he set himself to action.

“Lilly, it’s time we quit London. I shall have my men pack your things and send them on to Eildon. You’ll stay with me.”

“You’ll do no such thing. I can pack my things. Have someone stand at my door if you must. You stand at my door. But I’ll not have your men digging through my underthings.”

“Quite right. Very well then, but we leave post haste. To Kelso.”

Calder wandered Perry’s house. He’d stayed behind because Warrick would fare better alone, and he knew Perry would have need of him—once Lilly calmed. He found the music room and approached the piano. He knew of Perry’s talent, but like most of the family, had never heard him play. He touched the keys gently, then leaned on the bench as if to sit, but one of the legs gave way and he ended up on the floor.

“Good God, man, what are you doing? That is a one-of-a-kind instrument! Have you damaged the bench?”

Calder looked to Perry, only to catch the hint of a smile. “Funny. I suppose the bench was already damaged then?” He stood and straightened his pants, brushing at his knees.

“Yes, there was an...incident. Warrick?” he asked, changing tack abruptly.

“Doing what he does. Not a word.”

“I’m to Kelso. I’m taking Lilly to her family. She needs them at the moment, after everything. I am leaving Hepplewort to you and Warrick, because my responsibility needs to be Lilly. Exclusively.”

“I could never do that, leave the outcome to someone else. He knows who she is.”

“I’m not leaving the outcome to just anyone, I’m leaving it to you and Warrick. And I refuse to leave her side. If Gideon were here, he would agree. I won’t make the same mistake we made with Francine.”

Lilly gathered enough clothing for a fortnight. The wedding was only a few more days out, and they would spend time with her family. Her family. Perry. Viscount Roxleigh, spending time with her family. Where would he sleep? Would her mother allow them in her old room? Should they stay at the inn? They should stay at the inn.

She pulled her brush off the vanity and put it on top of her dresses.

Warrick walked into the building where Hepplewort’s mother maintained rooms apart from her son. It had taken him most of the day to track the information down, but he

finally found something he could chase and he felt all the better for it.

“Your cousins have done their utmost to damage the Hepplewort line.”

“My cousins? Are you possibly referring to His Grace, The Duke of Roxleigh, and The Right Honorable Viscount Roxleigh? I don’t believe you should address them in so familiar a manner,” Warrick said stiffly. This woman rankled beyond reason. Were he raised in her household, he quite believed he would be a different man. As it happened, he turned out to be as he was, for better or more possibly worse. Though he did, at the very least, respect women.

She wrinkled her nose at him, but seemed to take the warning. He knew his presence could be ominous, even beyond his rather large frame. He used that to his advantage quite often.

“I will not help you find my son.”

“Would you like to visit Brixton? I can arrange for that. Your son, however, will be taken to Newgate after he stands trial for this latest murder.” He saw her eyes widen, then her steel control snapped down and any emotion on her face was gone.

“Murder.”

“You heard me.”

“My son left after the ball, you told him to leave— He left.” She waved a hand in the air.

“In which direction?”

“I believe he was going to the seat. Home.” She didn’t flinch. She was good. Even Warrick had to be slightly impressed by her control.

“Then we shall retrieve him there.” Now it was a game. He wanted to see her flinch, he wanted to see how much it would take for her to break. He knew he could do it.

“You will do no such thing. There can be no evidence of any wrongdoing on his part.”

“No? Then why am I here?”

Her nostrils flared, he nearly missed it.

“Because your family”—and this was said with such disdain he truly felt a triumph—“wishes to see the fall of mine.”

“Pray tell, enlighten me to what end exactly. You have nothing any of us want.”

“Save that woman.”

“Yes, in fact, we did save that woman. From your son.”

Her hands tightened one over the other.

“Madam, I expect you to aid the investigation, or I will see you hanged alongside your son, law or no.”

She took one step backward into her room, then swung the door shut, narrowly missing his nose. He smiled. That was rather satisfying.

Kerrigan entered the study and bowed quickly. “Milord, His Grace’s railcar is ready to depart at first light.”

“Thank you. Make sure our cases are delivered and the car is guarded.”

“Yes, milord.”

Perry turned back to the paperwork on his desk that he’d been ignoring. He had to get a few missives off before they quit London because he’d promised Gideon he would handle these things, but he had been distracted.

He smiled at the thought; his recent bit of distraction was so much more than anything he had ever encountered before. He dropped his pen and stood, then scrubbed his hands though his hair, sat down again, and took the pen back up. He had to finish.

But then Lilly needed to know they wouldn’t be leaving until dawn.

He stood.

Of course she would come find him when she was ready to depart, and he needed to finish the paperwork.

He sat. Then he growled, an actual feral moan.

The door swung open.

“They are leaving to return to Kelso. He has arranged to take Roxleigh’s private car.”

Hepplewort watched Morgan’s grin spread wide across his face.

“Well then, perhaps we can arrange to be aboard the same train? Kelso is so far from London, it would be much easier to corner my quarry there.”

“I will arrange it, milord.”

“Don’t forget Mother.”

“He’s headed back to Shropshire, to his estate.” Warrick entered without preamble.

Perry stood, again. “You’re sure?” He waved his hand. “Of course you’re sure.” He watched as Warrick’s brows rose nearly imperceptibly. “Then we are safe heading to Kelso. You and Calder will corner him in Shropshire.”

“Perry, I—”

This time Perry’s eyebrows rose. This was Warrick, usually so full of formality.

“Trumbull. I’m not entirely sure that would be the wisest move, either.”

“You know you may address me as Perry.” He still had no intention of calling him anything but Warrick, regardless that he’d never been invited to. His cousin didn’t seem anything other than Warrick at this point, even though he’d only recently become such.

“If Hepplewort is to Shropshire—and where, pray tell, did you come by this information?”

“His mother.” Warrick motioned at Perry’s head, and Perry attempted to straighten his rather disheveled hair as he grumbled.

“Ah...the devil’s mistress herself. If Hepplewort is to Shropshire, then we are safe heading to Kelso.” Perry walked over to the sideboard, suddenly in need of a drink when he heard himself repeat those words. Who was he trying to convince? He tipped the whiskey decanter to Warrick, who raised his hand to stay him.

“But that man never stays where he’s put.”

“Unless his mother puts him there. So I am even more of a mind to go.” He downed the whiskey and poured another finger. “What choice have I? Stay here in fear waiting for him to show his cards? I cannot leave her side so I am of no use to you. Hepplewort won’t expect Kelso.” He tried to shake the thought from his head. “Did you inform Cutbush of the mother’s whereabouts?” Perry sat in a chair away from his desk and motioned Warrick to join him.

“I did, but he isn’t interested in her.”

“No, I don’t suppose he would be. She’s an old woman—harmless, really. Horrible and nagging, but rather harmless.”

“Where’s Calder?” Warrick asked.

“He’s gone to check on Calder House. Did you notify Cutbush that Hepplewort is for Shropshire?”

“Not yet, I thought we should decide what happens next. If Cutbush goes off half-cocked, we may never find Hepplewort.”

“He has no authority there, he would have to make arrangements with the local constabulary. Do we know anyone there?”

“I doubt that. As it would be under Hepplewort’s purview. Chances are the local police would defer to him, regardless. You don’t bite the hand that feeds, no matter how filthy.”

Perry swirled the whiskey, watching it catch the light, then he cleared his throat. “We have a bit of time before Calder returns, and—” Warrick’s gaze sharpened on him and Perry felt suddenly flushed. He cleared his throat again. “I just thought we could catch up, eh?”

Warrick leaned back in the chair and watched him.

“Is this how you got information from Hepplewort’s mother? Because I’m damned about to tell you everything since leaving my shortcoats.”

A wicked grin crossed Warrick’s face and Perry laughed. It was almost like the devious grin he remembered from their adolescence, the one he would see shortly before they all fell to a horrible fate of switches behind the barn, for one transgression or another.

Lilly finished packing the trunk and went to find Perry. It had been more than an hour, and she knew he had paperwork to catch up on. She headed straight for the study but stopped short of opening the door when she heard men’s voices beyond. Not just men’s voices, though—it was more of a happy banter. She didn’t want to interrupt the bit of camaraderie, so she headed for the library to find a few books to take on the train.

She pulled a book from the shelf and backed herself to the chair to read. She heard the laughter across the foyer gain, then fade again, and she looked to the door to find Perry striding for the stairs. She stood quickly. She hadn’t meant to worry him, but knew that’s exactly what had happened. She caught him halfway to the first floor.

“I’m sorry, you were all having such a nice chat. I didn’t want to interrupt.” She blinked her lashes rapidly at him when he turned, and he laughed.