Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption (13 page)

“Slow down a moment,” he yelled at her, to be heard over the loud din, like the buzzing of a thousand angry bees.

“We need…through…crowd. We’ll never…a cab here.” She ducked her head, never quite meeting his gaze, so he lost half of the words she said to the shouts around them. The mood of the crowd was shifting, and Robert’s entire body felt at the ready. He might not know where the hell they were, but he knew how this crowd made him feel.

“Fine. But I don’t want to lose you.” He captured her hand and gripped it. “This crowd could prove dangerous.”

Her gaze slid to their intertwined hands, and then moved downward. She crouched to the ground.

“Lily, what—” Before he could ask, she straightened back up, this time with a muddied, half torn sheet of paper in her free hand. Robert refused to let go of her other one.

“There was a hanging today,” she said.

Her words hung in the air with a sadness that pressed against his chest. He wanted her to never be sad. The fierce desire to see her smile, to take her out of all of this, floored him.

Where had these emotions come from? They were so fierce, so deep in his core.

How he must have loved her.

The desire to feel that love, as though it were a tangible piece he could hold, touch, smell…he wanted that desperately.

He wanted her desperately.

Every minute, he felt like a man drowning, until she stood by his side.

“Today’s broadsheet,” she said, far from carefree.

“What is a broadsheet?”

Her lips pinched together, and her brows flattened. “The report of who was hung today. They put these into the Newgate calendar each year, tell them as bedtime stories to frighten children into behaving. I find it appalling.” She glanced down at the paper in her hand, scanned it, and her color paled. “This man was eighteen, hung for forgery. It’s awful how many people die. I know they are criminals, and I know they deserve punishment, but—” She looked at him, and the depth of her anger, her fear flashed and exploded like lightning in her eyes. “You asked me if you are the same man but you weren’t even the man I believed you were. God, Robert, what have you done? Could it land you here?”

Panic, or something akin to it, flared inside of him.

“I don’t know.” It was a recurring phrase he was deucedly tired of repeating.

“But they did.” She gestured the way they’d come. “They commissioned you for something. They called you an artist, and you have work they are waiting for. What happens if you don’t provide that work? If you can’t remember what it is you owe them? What then?”

“I am going to find out.” The blasted headaches had subsided and it had been a long while since his memory had slipped. That had to be a sign he was improving.

He could find out what he’d gotten into.

Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

She held up the broadsheet. “It happened this morning, the hanging, and the crowd is still roused by it.”

The fear it lit in Lily surrounded them like a tattered blanket that couldn’t provide an ounce of warmth or comfort.

Robert surveyed the rowdy strangers around them. Young, old, mothers with children, children without mothers. There were generations represented who had come to watch something horrific and cheer for more.

He squeezed Lily’s hand, grabbed the broadsheet from her other one and dropped it on the ground. He pulled her hands together in his. “Whatever I’ve done, it will be all right.”

“How can you promise that?” The disbelief in her voice was palpable, dampened by the plaintive thread of grief.

“Because of this, right here.” He pushed back against someone who shoved at his back. “You. Me. This is worth fighting for.” Her gaze snapped to his. “I am not giving up, and you can’t either.”

He was jostled again, and Robert whipped around. As a crowd of young, belligerent men strode past them, Robert caught sight of a young mother and her young child. The men paid no heed and plowed through the crowd. Their laughs were intoxicated, buoyant and they shoved anyone who walked in their path. Robert squeezed Lily’s hands tighter so they wouldn’t get separated.

A soft cry rose through the noise, and from the corner of his eye, Robert saw the child yanked from his mother. The mother reached forward and cried out, but the mass of bodies aiming in the same direction enveloped the tiny child.

Robert lunged forward, his heart racing as his grip on Lily’s hand slipped free. He threw himself into the fray of people, shoving past anyone, keeping his gaze low to look for the child.

A terrified scream sounded to his left and he turned toward it, not caring who bumped into him. Then he spotted the child, curled on the ground.

Panic spurred him forward, and he crouched down. At the sight of him, the child screamed, shoving hands at him to push him away.

“I’m here to help,” he told him. The child was too terrified to think straight, so Robert didn’t argue the point. He shoved his hands under the boy and lifted him to his chest.

He moved upstream from the crowd, holding the young boy with a firm grip. Where was Lily?

He glanced around. She wasn’t behind him. Or anywhere.

The boy’s mother launched herself at him. “My boy!”

Robert brushed past her in order to get to the side of the buildings, where there was a break in the chaos. There, he set the boy down and held a hand on his shoulder until he was steady.

Large, brown eyes peered up at him, wide with tears and shock. “Th-thank you, mistah.”

Robert’s body hummed with need to find Lily. His fingers dug into his palms. He nodded at the boy and then his mother. “You’d do well to get off the streets.”

She gave him a look, one that wasn’t quite gratitude. “He wanted to see it.”

By it, she meant the hanging, Robert was certain. The thought of that boy watching…Robert shook his head. That wasn’t his concern.

Lily was.

And she was nowhere to be found.

His heart slammed against his chest as he thought of those men. Where had they gone? He straightened so he could see over the bobbing heads of the crowd. There.

He moved toward them, rage curling up from inside of him at the thought that they might have done anything to her. If they had touched one hair on her head, he—
“Robert!”

He stopped. A warm hand curled around his arm. Relief sagged his shoulders, and he didn’t think. Just grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close to him.

One hand against her hair, he held her to his chest. “Thank God. You have no idea what I thought.”

Her response was muffled, so he lifted his hand and she leaned back to look up at him. “I tried to follow you, but you moved so fast.” Wonder filled her eyes. “You saved that little boy’s life.”

He didn’t care about that. His heart hadn’t slowed its terrified beat, and he couldn’t shake the need to pummel someone.

“What is it?” Lily asked, almost squirming under his gaze.

The need inside him was hot, sticky. It pulsed under his skin, until he itched. His gaze lowered to her lips, an urgency inside pushing him to lean in, to feel those lips under his. To wrap himself in her warmth. “I must have loved you a tremendous amount.”

She laughed, but it was a sad, little mirthless sound. “You really do not remember a thing.”

“I want to remember.” He reveled in the softness of her against him, but he was afraid if he made the wrong move—though he had no idea what that might be—she might flit away. His fingers landed on her arm, the warmth of her skin providing a spark that surged through him, emboldened him to let his fingers caress down the side.

Her eyes cast down, staring at his hand as it moved down her arm, entangled her fingers in his own. He lifted it, used it to keep her close.

She shook her head. “Robert, you’re ill.”

“I don’t feel ill.” He needed her. He had to feel the smoothness of her lips under his. He tugged again, and she was inches away.

He placed a hand under her chin, as one of her hands came to rest on his chest.

“It’s been an exhausting day,” she said. ”You don’t…you don’t know what you’re doing.”

He tilted her head up until her eyes lifted, met his. In the depths of velvety brown, he saw uncertainty, fear.

He wanted to see surrender.

He leaned down and captured her lips with his. He felt her breath intake, the way she held herself stiff in his arms, even as his lips caressed hers.

The horrors of the day faded away. The danger that loomed over their heads didn’t exist.

Her lips gave way to his, opened just enough for him to press deeper. Then her limbs began to soften, to lean into him.

Triumph coursed through his body and he crushed her to him, one arm slipping behind her back. Arms tangled. Tongues intertwined.

He couldn’t get enough. Of her scent. Her feel. Her touch.

He wanted her with a desperation so fierce, he wondered how long it had been since he’d had her.

Suddenly, she yanked her arms away and pushed against his chest hard enough that he stumbled back.

“Stop!” she cried. “I can’t…I won’t let you do this!”

“What have I done? What is so wrong with kissing my wife? You have no idea how I feel…what my body is telling me. Perhaps my brain doesn’t remember you, Lily, but you can be damn sure my body
does
. My heart does.” It pounded in his chest, anxious, needy. Filled with longing.

She stared, her mouth ajar, her brows wide. Then after a long pause, her shoulders squared. She swallowed. “Robert.” The word was an ache. “I don’t live with you.”

The words hit like a punch. “What do you mean? You’re my wife.”

“Yes, but…I’m not…We aren’t…” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Not in any way that matters.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t.” She paced in a circle. “I am so
sorry
. I know you don’t understand any of this, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I live elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“At my family’s home, for the time being.” Her eyes grew round as she said the words, and the phrase caught at him.

“For the time being. Where do you intend to live?”

She stopped pacing, gestured down the street. “You need your rest. You’re exhausted. We need to find a cab and get you home.”

“I need you to answer me.”

“This is ridiculous.” The sheer pain in her voice pummeled him. “Whatever you are feeling, it’s false. It isn’t real. We never had that. You never felt that way. Not for me. Never about
me
.”

Anger propelled to the surface. “I may have lost memories, but I damn well know what I’m feeling. I know I want you. My arms are aching, Lily. To hold you. I want to feel your skin, your hair. It’s a physical pain, so don’t tell me I am making it up. It’s real and it has everything to do with you.”

She crossed her arms, shook her head over and over. “It doesn’t. You may feel grateful, you may feel…Well, I don’t know. But I do know one thing. You do not desire me. I am not the one you want.” She turned around.

“Where are you going?” he cried, frustrated beyond belief.

“To find a cab to get you home.”

“But not your home.”

She gave a short shake of her head. “No. It’s not mine.”

Though only a foot separated them, the distance felt like miles and he had no idea how to cross it. But exhaustion had begun to seep into his soul. He knew he was on his last limbs. And he had to find out what happened to Cary.

“This isn’t the end of it,” he warned her. “We will discuss this again.”

But Lily had already retreated, taken her warmth and hidden it behind what appeared to be years of experience.

Leaving him with an ache he didn’t know how to fill.

Lily sat in the carriage, knowing she needed to go inside to her brother’s home but every bone in her body had filled with lead.

They would ask questions, and right now, Lily didn’t know her own name, much less how to answer or speak about anything that occurred today.

Overwhelmed was an understatement.

Where did she start?

With the fact that her husband was associated with those horrible criminals? That he might, in fact, be one of them?

Or perhaps that her life had been threatened, and remained under threat?

Or no…maybe she should start with the fact that the potentially criminal husband who preferred the company of hooligans had lost his memory and
then
decided he desired her.

And that after such a declaration, she had shoved him out of the carriage to escape the pain of the desperate desire she felt to believe him.

It was a coin toss as to which declaration might send her to Bedlam first.

The door flung open.

Lily closed her eyes for a brief second, then opened them to find—well, but, of course.

The well-nursed grudge that tightened her shoulders was far too familiar.

“Where in heaven’s name have you been?” Cordelia’s musical voice grated about as much as a bleating goat. “What are you doing sitting out here, when people are in there, worried sick about you?”

“Not you, of course.”

Cordelia huffed. “Don’t be silly. Aria is quite concerned. As is Blythe. I couldn’t care less where you go.” Her words lacked the usual bite, though, and the way Cordelia hovered at the door belied her argument.

“Blythe is here?” Lily snapped to attention.

She’d forgotten the other mind-boggling fact she’d discovered that day.

Captain Keenan was a
leader
of aforementioned hooligans.

“Is Ravensdale here as well?”

Cordelia shook her head. “He and Adam are at Parliament. Where is your brain? Blythe brought the children to visit.”

A houseful of females who had an uncanny ability to ferret out emotion.

For once, Lily found herself wishing for the inscrutable men in her family who would rather muck out the stables than discuss anything that might make a woman cry.

Cordelia sniffed. “What happened to you? You look awful, and truly, you smell like you rolled in garbage.” She stuck her head into the carriage and peered closer. “Good God, Lily, what have you been up to?”

Lily was in no mood. She pushed Cordelia back so she could exit the carriage, aware that every inch of her body had begun to ache. “Never mind.”

“Your skirt is ripped. You are
filthy
.”

When Lily didn’t stop, she felt a grip around her arm and was yanked backwards.

“Let me go.” She tugged her arm away.

“What happened to you?” Her sister dogged her heels all the way to the door, which Lily shoved open.

She heard noises, laughter, knew it meant that Blythe and Aria were in the parlor. She didn’t want to face them.

She ran to the staircase.

“Lily, is that you?” Her eldest sister, Blythe’s voice.

Blast
it
.

“I’m feeling grimy from the day,” Lily called out. “I’ll be down to visit as soon as I’ve changed.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. Skirts in hand, she hurried up the stairs. She made it into her room and closed the door, only to have it flung open again.

Cordelia strode in, arms on her hips. “Where have you been? Tell me or I will march back down there and tell them to come up here.”

“Go away, Cordelia.”

“Fine,” Cordelia snapped. “Have it your way. You may answer
their
questions, spend endless hours soothing their concern.”

“What do you care?” Lily snapped. The anger that threaded her words came with a matching sense of entitlement.
She
was entitled to be angry.
She
was entitled to never speak to her sister again.

She
was entitled to wash off the fear and shock of the day without her sister’s presence adding to Lily’s already abiding sense of failure.

A sob erupted from her throat, and Lily bit her lips until her eyes stung. She was exhausted, that was all. And she had no guard against the pain that Cordelia brought with her.

“Please,” she said with more begging than she wanted. “Just go. I don’t want you here.”

A long pause was the reply. After a minute had gone by, Lily lifted her gaze to meet with Cordelia’s perfectly symmetrical eyes, her brows raised in a challenge.

“Did you think that pitiful voice would work?”

Anger flared. “Get out.”

“
No
.”

“Blast it, Cordelia, I—”

“You’ll what?” Cordelia stepped closer, fury blazing in the tilt of her brows, the balls of her fists. “Refuse to speak to me? Refuse to attend any event you know I’ll be at, as though you were a bloody child? Refuse to forgive me for a moment’s decision—one which you shared equal blame for? You’ve done all that.”

“Equal blame?” Lily stood up, hands on hips. “
Equal blame?
In front of our family, our servants, you screamed that you’d caught Robert coming out of my room. It was a lie, Cordelia, and you knew it. But you stuck to it and forced me into a miserable marriage.” She sucked in a breath, realizing what she’d admitted.

The one thing she had never wanted Cordelia to know. It was one reason she had refused to attend events Cordelia went to. Why she had refused to have anything to do with her sister.

Because if she had, Cordelia would know—as Lily knew every day—that she had won.

Lily pulled in a shaky breath, letting it lift her chest, push back her shoulders and mask the pain, the insecurities, the uncertainty Cordelia seemed able to reveal with very little effort.

“Why, Cordelia? Why did you do it? You didn’t care about him. You brushed him off; you flaunted your more prestigious suitors. After all these years, you owe me the truth. Why did you lie?”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there with
you
. Robert was
my
suitor.” Cordelia’s face flushed with anger. “You are wrong, I did care about him, enough that I wanted to consider marrying him. You took that choice away from me. I also sent him a letter that night, Lily, a letter to
my
suitor. If anyone has a right to be angry here, it’s me.”

Lily couldn’t breathe. Every time she tried to draw in air, it felt like an elephant had sat on her chest.

Cordelia had wanted him.

And he had known. Cordelia had sent him a letter.

Who had he come to see that night?

Lily had always believed that Robert had wanted her sister, but she’d thought it had been one-sided. Cordelia had been focused on gaining the best title, the best fortune and advantages marriage could buy her.

Robert had none of those. He was third in line for a title he’d never see, and while they had never wanted for anything, they weren’t embroidering their linens with spun gold, either.

Cordelia had wanted him anyway.

“If we both sent him letters that night—” Cordelia stepped closer, years of unexpressed resentment and indignation stamped on her face. “—Who did he come to see? You or me?”

Lily recalled that night with blindingly painful clarity. She’d replayed the course of events over and over in her mind.

Their mother had announced her betrothal to Franklin Calebowe, which meant a move to America. Panicked, Lily had sent a letter to Robert to urge him to come see her. She had hoped that their talks, their quiet moments had meant as much to him as they had to her. She’d hoped the threat of her leaving would encourage him to declare his feelings.

Robert had arrived in the early morning hours, when the sun had barely crawled out of its slumber. They’d talked, held hands, and he’d kissed her on the cheek. Alone, yes, but it had been innocent, until Cordelia turned it into something scandalous.

Then Cordelia had thrown in Lily’s face that Robert had kissed her as well, and Lily’s world had crumbled. In the span of a few hours, she’d gone from believing that Robert had wanted a future with her to knowing he didn’t.

By then, it was too late.

“Afraid to answer that question?” Cordelia taunted. “Then at least tell me if Robert has recovered, or that you were attacked by wild puppies in a mud puddle, so I can leave you alone!”

Cordelia wanted Robert.

What would happen if she went to him? If he saw her? He was injured, his confusion real. He didn’t remember.

But what if the woman he’d loved—who had loved him—arrived?

The very thought turned Lily’s stomach.

“Lily, I’m waiting for an answer.—”

The door opened. Adam filled the doorway with his looming presence. His gaze took them both in, focused sharply on Lily’s state. “What the hell is going on here?”

As he spoke, faces appeared around him—little ones under his arms, adult ones holding the same avid curiosity above them. He pushed them out and slammed the door behind him.

“I could hear your voices downstairs.” He looked at Lily. “Is Robert all right?” But before she could answer, he continued. “I am sick of this fighting between you. I don’t care how it happened, I don’t care who started it. I do care that your feud has made things difficult for everyone. And
I will not have this in my house
. Not now that Aria’s expecting.”

A not-so-muttered curse came from the doorway, and it flung open. “You told,” Aria accused her husband of just a year. “You promised.”

Adam’s gruffness was measured only by the joy in his face. “Sorry, my love.”

“Well, there is no taking it back now.” She raised her hands in irritated surrender. “There. We’re expecting. Surprise.”

Lily sidestepped Cordelia and hurried to Aria, arms stretched out. She gave her a hug. “I am so happy for you.”

Aria bit her lip. “You are all right?” she asked softly.

Lily nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.”

“I so worried about telling you. I would never want to cause you a moment of pain.”

“There is none, I assure you. Don’t think twice about it.” Lily’s joy was heartfelt, and she would never admit to the pangs in her heart. Their happiness had been hard fought for. Aria and Adam had almost lost each other, more than once. Their wedding last year had been more than just a joyous occasion, it had been a celebration of their love, their persistence and their faith in each other.

She reached up and gave her brother an impromptu hug. “Congratulations, Papa.”

He paled. “God.”

Lily chanced a look at Cordelia who stood very still. She watched Lily with a frank understanding and a sad resignation in the set of her lips.

She’d heard what Aria had asked.

Lily had never told Cordelia about the miscarriage. They hadn’t been speaking at the time, and that wasn’t a good conversation starter by any means.

Cordelia turned to Aria. “Congratulations,” she said. Hugs followed and teasing declarations about the hopes that the baby didn’t resemble its father. “If you’ll excuse me.” She strode toward the door, stopping next to Lily.

Lily waited for her to say something.

Cordelia reached out her hand and grasped Lily’s. With a tight squeeze, she continued out the door without a word.

Lily could feel Adam’s gaze. “What?”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not particularly.” It was far from the right time to tell her family anything that had happened today.

Aria gave a sigh. “You’re on your own, Lily. It sounds like Adam has some lecturing to do.”

As soon as she closed the door, Adam said, “As much as I could see you and Cordelia almost at blows, there is not a speck of dirt to be found in this room. So I know you didn’t earn that dirt and smell here.” He stepped closer, until she could no longer avoid looking at him. “Is Robert all right? Has he recovered? Did he do something to hurt you?”

The barrage of questions caught at the gaping hole that exposed her emotions. Tears pressed against her eyes, and an ache filled her throat, shoving to the surface.

“No, if you can believe it, I think I hurt
him
.”

How was that even possible? After three miserable years of marriage, it took one accident to turn him into a man who would show hurt in his eyes at her rejection?

But she couldn’t get the day, any of it, from her mind. Each scene was fresh, like a wet painting that glimmered with memories.

She opened her mouth to tell Adam everything. But nothing came out. “I don’t know where to start.”

Adam gave her a gentle push toward the chairs by the fireplace, and another one to shove her down into one. “The beginning is a good place.”