by Shana Galen
And what was happening in the library?
Because she was curious, and because she had no doubt Darlington would return to drag her forcibly, as he’d threatened, she rose, donned a robe and slippers and, taking a lamp to guide her way, padded to the library.
She heard voices even before she reached the doors, and her sense of unease increased. When she stepped inside, she gasped in a breath. Darlington was watching her. He stood beside his steward, and the state of the men’s attire told her they had not yet been to bed. The butler, who looked as though he had been abed, and the housekeeper, who wore a robe and slippers like she, stood at the other end of the room, whispering quietly.
“Well,” Darlington said. “You are either a very good actress, or you are as surprised at this as we are.”
“What happened?” she asked, turning in a circle to survey the damage. Papers were strewn everywhere, books lay in teetering piles, the expensive chairs and couches were ripped open and the stuffing covered the floor, reminding her of a sheep shearing.
“We thought you might be able to tell us,” Darlington said. Even in the midst of this chaos, he drew her gaze. He was so handsome, and she couldn’t help but stare at the bronze skin of his throat where his cravat hung loose and his shirt was open. Glancing down a bit farther, she noted the tight trousers, made all the more scandalous because she knew what was under them now.
“I have been in bed. I assure you, I had nothing to do with this.” She glared at him, willing him to keep silent about what he had read in her letters.
“But you know who did.” Darlington’s gaze on her did not falter. She was angry with him for dragging her into this, but she could not afford to show it.
“Where is His Grace?” she asked. “Has he not been informed?”
“We are not able to rouse him, madam,” the steward said.
“I see.” She should have realized that would be the problem. The duke had drunk like a sailor tonight. Darlington was still looking at her expectantly, so she shrugged. “I do not know why I was wakened. I have nothing to contribute.”
Slowly, Darlington turned to the butler and housekeeper. Addressing them by name, he said, “Why don’t you retire? We will deal with the cleaning up in the morning.”
“Yes, my lord.” They left eagerly, and Lily imagined they were thinking about the work they would have to face in just a few hours.
“Perhaps you could attempt to rouse my father again,” Darlington said to the steward.
“Yes, my lord.” He left, and Lily turned to the door as well.
“I shall also retire.” She started for the exit.
“I do not think so,” Darlington said. “Tell me what you know.”
“Nothing, as I said.” She reached for the door handle.
“What about Lucifer?” he asked.
Her hand on the handle stilled. She closed her eyes, knowing to answer would involve her further, and feeling as though Darlington had a right to know. His home had been violated. “This incident is further proof he is nearby.” Ravenscroft had documents or papers, most likely pertaining to the Crown’s spies, and Lucifer wanted them.
“You will help me capture him,” Darlington said.
She turned to face him. “No. I want nothing to do with him.” She did not say capturing Lucifer was not her mission. Ravenscroft might be a threat in that he ordered men’s deaths, but Lucifer actually killed them. He was far more dangerous, and she was not equipped to deal with a murderer. Not out here by herself without any other agents to assist her. Darlington was capable of taking care of himself, but she was not certain how much of a match he was against a man like Lucifer. “I suggest you have footmen serve as perimeter guards for the time being.”
“That will be done, but it will not solve the problem. We must locate this Lucifer.” Darlington moved across the room, advancing on her. “He has been inside my home and dared to do this.” He gestured to the ransacked library. “This is not to be tolerated.”
“Nevertheless, I cannot assist you.”
“You can, and you will.”
“Or else?” She already knew the power he held, the secrets he knew.
He bent close and whispered in her ear. “Do not make me threaten you, Lily. It’s not a gentlemanly thing to do.”
She turned to face him so her nose brushed his. “You won’t do it. If you were going to reveal my secrets, you would have done so already. I warn you not to persist in making threats you can’t keep.”
Instead of fuming, he touched her cheek. “Are you angry? I rather like you when you’re angry.” His finger trailed down her skin, and he bent close. Lily knew she should pull away, avoid the kiss, but she could not quite make herself do so.
“What the devil is going on in there?” a familiar voice boomed. Lily jumped away from Darlington and out of the path of the door just in time. It swung open and barely missed her. The Duke of Ravenscroft stood in the frame, scowling at his wreck of a library. His hair stood up, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked all of his almost-sixty years tonight. “What happened?” he said, turning about, much as Lily had upon entering. His gaze fastened on her. “What are you doing here?”
She glanced at Darlington before answering. “I thought I heard a commotion, and when I came down, I saw the light on.”
The duke looked from her to his son, his expression skeptical.
“There have been several thefts and incidents lately, Your Grace,” Darlington said. “We think this might be related.”
“Incidents?” The duke’s eyebrows rose. “Why was I not notified?”
“Mr. Helms did not want to trouble you or your guests,” Darlington said smoothly, though it was clear to Lily the steward had gone to the man he knew was really running the estate.
“Well, I am troubled now,” Ravenscroft lamented, bending to sift through papers and allowing them to fall like sand through his hands. “Whoever did this will not go unpunished. Helms!”
The steward, who had been standing just outside the library, hurried inside. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Tomorrow you will find the man who did this.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Get out.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He left quickly, and with a muttered pardon, Darlington followed. Lily tried to escape as well, but the duke caught her arm. His grip hurt.
“What do you know that you are not telling me?” the duke demanded. His breath was hot and foul against her cheek.
“I do not know what you mean, Your Grace.”
“I may be old, but I am no fool,” Ravenscroft said, digging his fingers into her tender flesh. “There have been too many coincidences involving you. You are up to something.”
“Your Grace,” she said calmly. “You are frightening me.”
“I wish that were true. Then I might actually believe your stories.” He released her. “But I don’t frighten you, Lily. I should, you know. You should be afraid, because if you are involved in this, in any way, I will kill you.” His dark eyes were fierce and ominous. This was no idle threat. He stalked out, and Lily clutched her hands into fists.
If she had not been frightened before, she was now, though she would fight it. This was the Duke of Ravenscroft she had been searching for—the man willing to kill men for his own purposes. A traitor and enemy of the Crown.
But why? Why did he want the Diamonds in the Rough dead, and where were the rubies he was promising the assassins? Was he working for another country’s government? A country that wanted England’s top spies dead? Was the duke the notorious Artemis? In which case, she was as good as dead. She closed her eyes, resolved to fight her fear, conquer it, because she knew she was close to the third act now. The trick was to stay alive for the finale. When her legs were once again steady beneath her, she returned to her room and lay awake with her hand on the knife beneath
her pillow.
***
Darlington sent a message through Lily’s maid for her to meet him in the stables. He intended to search every inch of the estate for this Lucifer’s hiding hole, and he wanted Lily with him. Perhaps she would see something he did not. Perhaps he would only keep her from causing some other mischief at the house. Or perhaps he just wanted to keep her close. Nevertheless, he was prepared to drag her from her bed when she stepped into the stable, her eyes blinking in the sudden darkness.
“I thought I would have to physically remove you from your bed,” he said, moving into the light so she would see him easily.
“I’m certain you would have enjoyed that.”
“I would far rather drag you into bed.” Her eyes widened in surprise at the admission. Andrew gestured to the stalls. “Do you have a choice of mount?”
“No. I am not familiar enough with your horses. Where are we riding?”
“I thought you might direct me. I beg your leave for a moment.” He moved farther into the stables and returned with two grooms, whom he directed to saddle two riding horses, his favorite gelding and a fast but gentle mare for Lily. The two of them waited outside while the horses were prepared. The day was cloudy and gray, a change from the sunny, clear days of late. Rain showers threatened, but he noted she had brought a shawl. That would protect her from a light rain, at least.
She glanced at him, and he looked away quickly. Not for the first time, he had been caught admiring her. It was difficult not to admire her. She was a beautiful woman with her auburn hair piled on top of her head in a mass of curls and coils. Her riding habit was snug, the dark emerald color making her look regal. If she had chosen another path in life, she might have become a lady. She certainly behaved as such. She might have made some duke a powerful duchess.
The horses were finally ready, and he and Lily set off by tacit agreement toward the woods at the rear of the house. When they were out of the grooms’ earshot, Andrew slowed his horse and fell into step with Lily’s. “I think the woods the most likely hiding spot.”
She nodded her agreement.
“He could be hiding in the village,” Andrew added a moment later.
“I think such a man would have been noted and mentioned. He has a striking appearance, quite handsome from what I understand.”
“You have not seen him?”
“From a distance. He does not have the sort of looks I admire.”
“And what sort is that, Lily?”
She cut her gaze to him. “You will not receive any compliments from me, my lord.”
“You wound me.”
“Hardly.” She spurred her mount forward, and he allowed her to lead briefly then charged ahead. When they reached the outskirts of the woods, they slowed, and Lily motioned to him to approach. “I suggest we ride into the woods and tie the horses to a tree when the foliage becomes thicker.”
Andrew frowned. “What will stop him from stealing our horses?”
“He has a mount. He no longer needs one. If we are lucky, he will never see our horses. But if we ride them and come upon him, he will hear us long before we ever spot him.”
As a lad, Andrew had done his share of tracking animals for sport. He knew what she suggested made sense and only wished he had thought of it himself. With a nod, he motioned her to follow him into the woods. The path was not wide enough for two horses, and he led until they reached a small stream where the brush seemed to thicken. “We leave the animals here,” he said, pointing to the stream. “If we ford here, it might serve to obscure our trail.”
Lily blinked at him. He could see what she was thinking. She was not eager to cross the water, but she did not argue, only tied her mare to a tree then removed her boots and stockings.
Andrew tried not to watch her, but he might have caught a flash of ankle or calf as he removed his own riding boots. When she was ready—her footwear cupped in the skirts of her riding habit—he started across. The water was colder than he’d anticipated, and he stifled a small yelp. She made no sound whatsoever, crossing behind him with grace and speed. She faltered on the other side of the stream, where a steep incline forced them both to climb up loose dirt, but he grasped her elbow and pulled her to the top.
Once at the crest of the bank, he did not release her right away. He held her arm for a moment longer than necessary, looking into eyes that matched the vivid green of the forest around them. She stepped away, averting her gaze and moving to a log where she sat to don her stockings and boots. This time Andrew did not look at her. He was on slippery ground in more ways than one, he knew. This interest in her was more than the simple desire to bed her. There was that, but he had wanted women before that he could not have. He had wanted one in particular.
But those women had never consumed his thoughts as Lily seemed to. Even now, when he knew he would be rebuffed, he was drawn to her. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, hold her. In most cases, a woman’s disinterest was enough to cool his ardor. He did not know why he could not seem to allow Lily to go her own way.
When she was ready, he gestured to the right and then to the left, allowing her to choose their path. She studied both then gestured to the left. He led the way, and they moved without speaking through the woods. After several hours, they paused by another branch of the stream where they had left the horses. Andrew cupped his hands to drink the cool water then produced a handkerchief with bread and cheese from the satchel he carried over his shoulder.
Lily took a share with a nod of thanks then looked away as she ate it, her eyes scanning the woods around them. Andrew supposed he should be thankful she didn’t insist on chattering until he went mad, as some women did, but he did wish she would say something. Finally, he could stand it no longer. “How are you faring? Should we return?”
She raised a brow at him. “I hardly think now is the time to worry about my welfare.”
She was correct, of course. If he wanted to concern himself with her well-being, he would not have demanded she accompany him. “Perhaps I regret my decision to invite you.”
She smiled at his use of invite, as he had known she would. He understood her so well, even when she did not speak her feelings. “I do not regret my decision to accept your invitation.” Her mouth curled in a rueful smile. “I am happy for the time out-of-doors, even if the weather is less than ideal.”
A light rain had been falling for the past hour, but they were somewhat shielded under the canopy of trees. Still, Andrew could see the drops of rain disturbing the calm stream, and he looked up to gauge the condition of the skies. Pewter-gray clouds promised the dreary weather would continue.
When he looked back at Lily, she was staring at the ground beside the rotten tree stump where she perched. He thought he might move away, give her some time to herself and her own thoughts, but then she rose and moved to study a nearby bush. She bent, studied the ground again, and turned to him. “Have you trespassed on this ground?”
“No.” He moved closer, feeling his heart begin to pound. “Have you found something?”
She gestured to the soft earth. “A footprint. A man’s boot, I think.”
Andrew studied the print and another she pointed out as well. He placed his own foot beside it, but his boot was slightly larger. “It might not be his,” she murmured.
“It’s the first sign of anyone we’ve seen all morning. You stay here, and I’ll investigate.” He started into the brush, following the logical path the man might have taken, even as fallen leaves obscured other prints. He should have realized she would never obey orders, but he was still surprised when he paused and she came up beside him. He frowned at her, but she ignored him and gestured ahead.
He saw the flash of color at the same moment she motioned. Moving silently now, he moved a leafy branch aside and looked into a small, man-made clearing where a red handkerchief fluttered against a tree.
Fou
rteen
One thing Lily had learned when working for the Foreign Office was to trust her instincts. She had excellent instincts. She looked into the clearing and knew this was Lucifer’s camp. He was hiding here, biding his time, waiting to strike. He’d searched the duke’s library for the documents he wanted and had not found them. But he could not expect to be able to search the estate again with impunity. He had left too much evidence of his search to hope to continue acting with stealth.
And that was what concerned her. If he was no longer worried about being detected, what would the man do next? He had lost his gambling hell. If he regained the documents detailing information about the Diamonds in the Rough, he could sell that information to any number of foreign governments. He could live quite richly on the Continent at the expense of the lives of England’s heroes.
Once again she reminded herself Lucifer was not her concern. He was already a wanted man for his evil deeds. The key was to prove Ravenscroft guilty of buying the names of the Diamonds and hiring men to have them killed. In that way, she was no different from Lucifer. They were searching for the same thing. The fact that Lucifer was here should damn the duke, but without a mountain of evidence, one did not accuse a powerful peer of being a traitor. At this point it was a matter of whether she or Lucifer found the evidence first. And that rivalry gave her reason to interest herself in the camp.
“We should search it,” she said, moving through the opening Darlington had cleared in the trees. It was raining harder now, and as she stepped into the clearing, water plastered her hair to her forehead and ran in rivulets down her face.
“We should return to the estate and contact the proper authorities.” Darlington stood rooted in place. “This is Ravenscroft land, and Lucifer, or whoever is camping here, is trespassing.”
“It’s Lucifer,” she said. “I can feel it.”
“All the more reason to return immediately.”
She glanced at him. “Are you frightened?”
