Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Convivial company spilled out of Richard’s sister’s house and out into the street shouting their good nights and continuing their obscure academic arguments in pairs and threes as they dispersed to the their own homes. Lily wasn’t among them.
The hour loomed late, too late for a newcomer, but Richard believed he had timed his arrival perfectly. He waved the butler aside and climbed the stairs.
“You’re late, brother,” Georgiana said. She made no effort to hide her amusement at his appearance. Richard never attended her salons. “Did you have an earlier engagement?”
His eyes found Lily and held. Her color appeared better; she sat straight, not as weary as before.
He traced the slope of her neck and followed the garland of forget-me-not and ivy embroidered on the neckline of her muslin dress with his eyes.
He felt his body react to the sight and frowned at Lily.
That dress is too damned transparent by far.
“Stop glowering at my guests!” his sister snapped. “Sit before you frighten us all.”
Get a grip, man. Stewart does his duty. All is well.
“Sit down and stop towering over us,” Georgiana went on.
He spotted a sturdy chair, half hidden by the bookshelves. No footman leapt to assist. Typical. Georgiana’s household management has gone ramshackle since she married Andrew Mallet.
He pushed it toward the group clustered by the open window and peered at Stewart. Does he have to lean so close to her?
“As you see, Mr. Stewart obeys his orders,” Lily pointed out tartly. She smiled at the younger man. “And he held his own against Professor Appleton on the importance of our presence in Malta.”
Walter Stewart colored; he did not speak.
“Good work, Stewart,” Richard grumbled. He sounded grudging even to his own ears. “The hour grows late, and you have committee work tomorrow. I will see Miss Thornton home.”
Stewart hesitated momentarily, glancing at Lily and back at Richard.
I said leave, damn it. Richard held Stewart’s eyes until the man looked away and rose to make a courteous goodbye to his hosts.
“Well, at least one member of the Foreign Office has manners,” Georgiana drawled, bringing a grin to her husband’s face. “That was not well done of you.”
“What? He managed his assignment to escort Miss Thornton. I relieved him,” Richard said.
“His assignment? Am I furniture? A report? A piece of baggage to be transported?” Lily said hotly. She looked angry; he liked Lily angry. Anger gave her color; her chest heaved. He liked it very much indeed.
Enough Richard! He pulled his eyes from her heaving anger. “Nonsense,” he said, looking at his brother-in-law but addressing Lily. “You know the danger. The Foreign Office is responsible for Miss Thornton’s protection.” A fact that may surprise the foreign secretary.
“Checking up on us, Richard?” Andrew asked.
“Most affairs have guest lists. Your salon is, as you said, informal. I wanted to be sure Volkov didn’t slither in again.”
“Roger Heaton told me you had word Volkov has left London,” Lily said.
Roger Heaton talks too much.
“But not England,” he told her. He wasn’t going to tell her Volkov merely went to Portsmouth, sniffing about the docks and taverns for information.
The confusion in her eyes stabbed him. “He made no attempt to travel to Russia,” he said.
“Or Copenhagen?” she asked softly.
“No, not that either.” He wished he could wipe the worry from her face.
“Why didn’t you just come earlier? You could have helped Stewart defend the concessions we won at the Congress of Vienna,” Andrew said.
“Vienna settled everything—and nothing. There is nothing to discuss with amateurs. I had another engagement as your wife suggested.”
“Do tell,” Georgiana prodded.
“If you must know, I attended a dinner party with the Duke and Duchess of Lisle.”
“Sarah Wharton’s parents?” His sister laughed. “Are we to wish you happy?”
“Not yet,” he said, glancing at Lily.
“Mother must be impatient,” Georgiana said.
Richard grunted. “She will have to wait. I know my duty to the estate.”
“London watches you avidly,” his brother-in-law said.
“London will have to wait also. It’s time for me to escort Miss Thornton home.”
She looked like she might object.
Don’t be a fool, Lily.
She didn’t object until they descended to the Mallets’ front door and he gestured to the door of his waiting carriage.
“No, thank you. I prefer to walk, my lord. I’ll bid you good night here.” She turned to go.
Richard directed his coachman to wait in Bloomsbury Square and caught up with her in two strides. Stubborn woman.
He winged his arm at her, but she hesitated before taking it.
“I suppose I have no choice,” she said when she reached accept his arm, her tiny hand white on his black jacket. She walked in silence.
“You are well?” he asked.
“Quite,” she replied.
They crossed to Bedford Square.
“The overly warm weather doesn’t bother you?”
She shook her head.
Her hand, he realized, trembled where it lay on his arm. A fierce desire to protect seized him. He placed his other hand over it.
“My lord?”
“You trembled.”
In the distance, his carriage turned away from them. They walked into the narrow confines of Gilbert Street, draped in darkness. Her home lay four doors down.
“I did not,” she protested. “Even if I did—”
A shaft of yellow light from a window lit her face. She looked up, momentarily inarticulate.
Can she see desire on my face?
“—what concern is it of yours?” she finished in a whisper.
“Your well-being is very much my concern, Lily. Very much indeed.” It shouldn’t be, but it is. He searched her face in the dim shaft of light. He saw confusion in her eyes; he watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips.
Fascination with that mouth held him even while he used his free hand to pull her around into shadow.
She had ample time to protest when he lowered his mouth toward hers. Ample time. She did not.
One kiss. One taste before I tie myself to Sarah Wharton. He clamped down on his raging desire. One gentle salute, a farewell.
Lily froze momentarily but didn’t pull away.
At his persistent urging, she opened her lips slightly and allowed him access.
For a long moment, the taste of her satisfied him.
When her hand crept up his neck and into his hair, however, the need for more overwhelmed him.
He pulled her closer, tasted deeply, and slipped his hand to her breast.
Lily wrenched herself away at that with a groan.
“What do you think you’re doing? What, dear God, do you think I am.” She turned on her heels and walked toward her house.
“Lily, wait—” he said, catching up in two long strides. He grabbed her arm to turn her. She tried to shake him off. Damn it, Lily, you seemed willing enough.
“Wait for what? For you to bring my father home? For you to maul me again? Leave me be.”
He dropped his hand.
“Go to Lady Sarah,” she went on. “Make your addresses. London will fall at your feet. Just leave. Me. Alone.”
He had no answer for that. No apology either. What does this confounded woman do to send my wits begging? For a brief moment, he considered offering for her again, but she would only throw it back in his face.
Instead, he bit back an angry retort and handed her to the door. She didn’t look back when the servant let her in and closed the door behind her.
He stood on the pavement staring at the closed door. She’s right, though. Nothing good can come of this. Offer for Lady Sarah Wharton and be done with it.
Lily stood in her darkened bedroom and pulled the curtain aside. Richard still stood outside her house watching the door as if she might emerge from it. He shook his head.
He walked across the street and moved unerringly to the dark recess of a door near the corner. A man stepped out of the shadow and leaned forward for a word.
As if satisfied, Richard strode down Gilbert toward Bedford Square.
She sat on her bed in the gloom and weighed her options.
Papa could be marooned in Copenhagen for months. He is probably making free with the libraries there. He probably assumes I manage fine on my own. He probably feels no need to hurry.
There would be no rescue by her father; Lily’s luck had run out.
She was three months along. I can’t wait any longer.