by Cheryl Holt
A flush of happiness swept through Lily. She’d presumed that Penworth tossed her over with nary a ripple in his conscience. It was heartening to hear that he’d at least realized she’d left.
Fat lot of good it did her at the moment.
She was tied to a chair in the decrepit room she’d rented, and Esther was standing behind her, a loaded pistol in her hand. They were waiting for Penworth to arrive, and bizarre as it sounded, Esther was planning to shoot him when he walked in.
Obviously, desperation had driven Lily mad. Why had she trusted Esther? Lunacy was the sole explanation for her folly.
Edward had delivered Lily to Esther’s suite at the Carlyle Hotel, and Lily had followed along like a sheep to the slaughter.
Under Esther’s meticulous prodding, Lily had revealed her dire plight—all but her possible pregnancy—yet Esther seemed to have deduced Lily’s condition. She kept staring at Lily’s stomach when she thought Lily wasn’t looking.
Esther had confessed her own fury with Penworth over his demand that Edward marry Miranda. When Esther had offered to plead Lily’s case to Penworth, when she’d offered to obtain some financial assistance from him, Lily had agreed to let her try.
She’d been swayed by Esther’s wily argument: Lily had been grievously used by Penworth. Shouldn’t he fork over some money in reparation?
It’s only fair, Esther had crooned, and the longer she’d continued, the more Lily had concurred.
She’d written the letter Esther suggested, begging him to meet her at her dreary, dilapidated boardinghouse.
He should see the depths to which you’ve descended, Esther had urged. She had claimed that if he witnessed Lily’s true situation, he’d feel guilty and more inclined to be generous.
Lily had swallowed Esther’s nonsense, and now she was frantic with worry over what Esther had set in motion.
Esther didn’t seem to be insane. If anything, she seemed completely rational, and her calm certitude was frightening. She hated John with a burning passion, and she would stop Edward’s marriage by any means necessary.
Lily had to prevent an assault, but what could she do?
“I asked him to be here at two o’clock,” Lily said, hoping to distract Esther with conversation. “It’s almost three. He’s not coming.”
“He’s coming. Don’t you fret about it.”
“You don’t even know if he’s in London. He might have been out when the message was delivered.”
“He’s home.” At Lily’s dubious scowl, Esther snarled, “What? You think I don’t have spies in my own house? You think none of the servants are loyal to me? He’s home, and that whore, Barbara, is there, too. I’ll even the score with both of them in one fell swoop.”
“Has it occurred to you that you’re acting a bit odd? Are you positive you should do this? Maybe you should talk to your son. He likes Lord Penworth; he wouldn’t approve of your harming him.”
“What Edward doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“But to shoot Lord Penworth,” Lily pressed. “You can’t imagine you’ll get away with it.”
“Of course I can.”
“How?”
“I’ll make it look like you shot him. You loved him, but he ruined then jilted you. I’m guessing you’re pregnant, too, so I’ll spread a rumor that you are. I’ll say you confided in me.”
“I’m not increasing,” Lily contended.
“It doesn’t matter. You have plenty of reasons for wanting revenge.”
“Your story is too outlandish,” Lily protested, even though the tale was extremely plausible.
The whole world was aware of Lily’s affair with Penworth, and Mrs. Ford would be able to testify as to Lily’s fiscal crisis. She’d be branded a murderer, would be prosecuted and hanged. Was there no end to the damage she’d suffer due to her allying herself with Penworth?
For a woman who was so levelheaded, how had she wound up in such a jam?
“Poor Miss Lambert,” Esther mused. “You should have behaved better.”
Lily couldn’t argue the point.
“It was all Penworth’s fault,” Lily fibbed.
“I’m sure it was. He’s a man, after all. They rut like beasts in the field. Even John—for all his puritanical ways—is not immune to pleasures of the flesh.”
“You’re correct. He was like a stallion with a mare.”
Lily wasn’t serious; she was simply eager to divert Esther while she watched for an opportunity to save herself—and Penworth.
“I don’t know where I went wrong with that boy,” Esther muttered. “I tried so hard to raise him right. His mother’s wicked blood must be stronger than I suspected.”
“He’s actually quite a brazen individual, but he hides it well.”
“I was afraid he’d turn out just like Barbara. Why anyone would—”
Suddenly, footsteps pounded up the stairs. They were heavy; a man’s stride.
“Ah,” Esther beamed, “here he is. And you said he wouldn’t come for you.”
“What is it you expect him to do? It’s not as if he—”
“Hush!” Esther hissed, the pistol digging into Lily’s throat. “When he knocks, you are to calmly bid him enter.”
Lily was too scared to reply, so Esther leaned nearer and whispered, “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Lily was trembling and couldn’t catch her breath. Would Esther shoot her? Would she shoot Penworth? The prospect was so improbable that Lily felt as if she was trapped in the middle of a strange dream.
He rapped three times, and Esther nudged Lily with the barrel of the gun.
“Yes?” Lily said. “Who is it?”
“It’s John.”
“Come . . . come in,” Lily stammered.
As he spun the knob, and the door began to open, she panicked.
“John!” she shouted to warn him, but Esther clasped a palm over Lily’s mouth, cutting off most of the sound.
He strolled in, looking handsome and windblown and larger than life, and a rush of gladness swept over her.
He’s here! He came for me! a voice chanted inside her head.
Her outburst had kept both of Esther’s hands occupied, so she hadn’t fired immediately. She was positioned behind Lily, using her as a shield, and Lily imagined they were a peculiar sight and not anywhere close to what he’d anticipated finding.
“Lily,” he casually greeted, “hello.”
She couldn’t speak, but simply widened her eyes, yearning to communicate the terror she was feeling. He peered back with a bland expression, providing no hint of emotion or concern.
“Esther,” he then said, “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Sit down.”
She waved the pistol toward the table in the corner, but he didn’t move.
“You seem upset,” he mentioned.
“Sit down!” she barked. “If you don’t do as I say—at once!—I’ll shoot her before you can blink.”
“Oh, all right. Whatever you think is best is fine with me.”
Lily gasped with offense. If she hadn’t been bound to the chair, she’d have marched over and slugged him.
“I’ll shoot her!” Esther threatened. “I mean it.”
“You can if you wish. She never brought me anything but trouble. Why would I care what happens to her?”
“You loved her,” Esther fumed. “Don’t deny it.”
He scoffed. “I lusted after her. Maybe. I wouldn’t ascribe a higher motive.”
Esther started to shake. He wasn’t behaving as she’d hoped, and her temper flared.
“You loved her! Admit it!”
“You have mistaken my physical conduct for a sentimental connection. You know me, Esther. I would never involve myself with someone like her.”
Lily’s blood boiled.
She’d been about to forgive him, having convinced herself that he’d raced to her side because he couldn’t bear for them to be apart.
She was
such an idiot! Why did she allow him to overwhelm her better sense? He hadn’t been genuinely fond of her, and his affection had been a ruse to persuade her to lift her skirt. Would she ever learn?
“Will that be all?” Penworth asked. “If you lured me here merely to watch as you murder her, I’d really rather go. I’m busy this afternoon.”
He turned to walk out, and Esther shrieked, “Get over to that table and sit down! You must compose a letter to Edward.”
“I must? How will you make me?”
“I told you: I will kill her if you don’t.”
“And I told you to have at it. Be my guest.”
Esther’s arm was quaking wildly, the weight of the gun exhausting her, and Lily was worried that—in her distress—Esther might accidentally pull the trigger.
Couldn’t the oaf lower himself to humor Esther? Couldn’t he take this seriously and help Lily before she was murdered by the deranged woman?
“Lord Penworth,” Lily snapped, “could you do as she’s requested? Just for a minute?”
“I suppose,” he grumbled.
The room was tiny, and he scooted by them, having to pass so close to Lily that his leg brushed her knee. She braced, assuming he would utilize his nearness to attack Esther, but he didn’t, and Lily wanted to scream at him.
How could he be so unaffected? Esther might be threatening to slay Lily, but afterward, she wouldn’t let Penworth waltz out. Didn’t he realize they were both in danger?
He sat as Esther had demanded. Esther had brought paper, ink jar, and pen, and she’d previously laid them out for him. He picked up the ink jar, nonchalantly twirling it in his hand, but he didn’t dip the quill.
“By any chance, Esther,” he said, “were you responsible for the explosion in Scotland that ended the rescue effort?”
“What makes you ask?” Esther sneered.
Penworth gestured to the pistol. “It’s recently occurred to me that you—rather than Edward—might have been the culprit.”
“You always had it out for him.”
“Should I take that as a yes? Did you blow up the tunnel so I would perish?”
“What if I did? If not for your mother, Edward would have been earl. Not you. I’m entitled to some revenge.”
“I never would have guessed it was you,” Penworth said. “Now then, what would you like me to write? Could we please get on with it? I had my driver wait, and he’s blocking the street. I need to be going.”
“Don’t tarry on my account,” Lily tightly retorted.
“I won’t.” He flashed a supercilious smile.
“Begin with this salutation,” Esther instructed. “‘My dearest brother.’”
Penworth dunked the quill and penned what she’d ordered.
“Then what?” he inquired.
“Add this: ‘I’ve finally heard from Miss Lambert. It’s as I suspected. She advises me she’s pregnant, and—’”
“What?”
Penworth whipped around and glared at Lily. His arrogant gaze went to her stomach, and he smirked.
“It’s not possible, Esther. She and I may have had intimate relations, but she’s a bit of a doxy. A man must empty himself in a woman’s womb to plant a seed. I had a few other options with her.”
Lily sputtered with outrage.
He was denying her? He was denying the child he might have sired? Why not simply call her a harlot and be done with it?
“Of all the dirty, rotten, low-down, despicable—”
Lily struggled against the bindings, trying to loosen them so she could escape and beat him to a pulp.
“Finish the sentence,” Esther commanded over Lily’s litany of invectives. “Put this down: ‘She advises me she’s pregnant, and she’s blackmailing me.’”
He fussed with the quill, but didn’t write the words. Instead, he held up the jar and peered into the opening.
“What now?” Esther seethed.
“The ink is dried out.”
“For pity’s sake!” Esther angrily brandished the gun so it was pointed away from Lily’s neck. “Why can’t anything go as I planned? Can’t you—”
Esther hadn’t fully aired her complaint when he hurled the jar at her. The ink wasn’t dried out, after all. It was runny and very, very wet. The black liquid splashed across her eyes, the jar itself thumping on her forehead.
She screeched and ducked, but not swiftly enough. Temporarily blinded, she staggered back.
Quick as a snake, Penworth leapt to his feet. With one hand, he snatched the pistol from her. With the other, he punched her, and she crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap.
He stood, frowning down at her, rubbing his knuckles, his breathing barely elevated.
“I’ve never hit a woman before,” he muttered.
“It seemed like a good time to start,” Lily replied.
“It certainly did.” He wrenched his focus from Esther to Lily. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
After checking that Esther hadn’t stirred, he laid the gun on the table and untied Lily’s bindings. The final one fell away, and she jumped from the chair as if it was on fire.
“I won’t ask,” he scolded, “how you landed yourself in this mess.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Yes, I would. It’s dawned on me that trouble follows you like a magnet to metal.”
“Only since I met you. I used to have a very ordinary, very dull life.”
He grinned and extended his hand. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“What?”
He’d insulted her, had practically claimed she was a whore, had just broken her heart all over again, and he assumed she’d go home with him? He thought she’d blithely agree?
The man was insane.
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re coming.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
He stepped in until they were toe-to-toe, and he loomed over her.
“I’ve had enough of your antics,” he said.
“My antics! I was kidnapped by a crazy woman. How is that my fault?”
“You left Scotland without a good-bye. You never wrote to me. You never gave me the slightest hint of where you might be or how I could find you.”
“It never occurred to me that you would be concerned. Weren’t you the one who made me leave?”
“I was not!”
Esther had bragged that it was all her doing, that John had played no part in Lily’s abrupt departure from the castle. Had Esther been telling the truth?
“You didn’t want my presence upsetting Lady Violet.”
“Who told you that?”
He looked furious over her accusation, and Lily hesitated, scowling over at Esther.
“Ah . . . her?”
“You believed her?”
“She was so convincing.”
He snorted with disgust. “Have you any idea of how worried I’ve been?”
“I just heard you talking to Esther. You didn’t sound very worried.”
“Lily”—his exasperation was clear—“we will walk down to my carriage and head for home. You may accompany me of your own volition, or I will toss you over my shoulder and haul you out like a sack of flour.” He raised a haughty brow. “Which is it to be?”
She knew him well. He didn’t make idle threats, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She could refuse and quarrel, or she could do as he bid her.
If she declined his offer, what was her alternative? She wasn’t about to stay in the room until Esther awakened. The rent was only paid for two more days, and then, she’d be out on the streets.
He might not care for her. He might have simply dallied with her for carnal purposes. He might have proved himself to be a callous cad, but at the moment, a week spent at his London town house would be like a gift from Heaven.
“I’ll go,” she grouched, “but when we arrive, you and I have a few matters to discuss.”
“Yes, we do, but let’s get out of here first.”
He grabbed the gun, then led her to the door. At the last second, she glanced back at Esther who was still out cold.
“What about her?” Lily asked. “Shouldn’t we do something?”
“I’ll send her son to fetch her. Let him deal with her for once; I’m tired of it.”
Lily chuckled, and they hurried out together.
Chapter 25
“WILL you marry me?”
“What did you say?”
“Will you marry me?”
John smiled at Lily. They were in a downstairs parlor, having recently returned from the boardinghouse where he’d knocked Esther senseless. Lily had been unusually quiet on the ride. She’d sat on the opposite seat in the carriage and stared out the window, but his proposal would cheer her up in a hurry.
He’d retrieved from the safe a ring that would serve as an engagement ring until he could have one specially designed for her. He took her hand, ready to slip it on the moment she said yes. He was excited to see it on her finger, excited to have the whole world know she was his.
“No,” she suddenly blurted out, “I most certainly won’t.” She yanked away and walked across the room.
“What?” he gasped.
“I won’t marry you. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s out of the question.”
“Out of the question,” he muttered like an imbecile. “May I ask why?”
“Because you’re John Middleton, Earl of Penworth, and I’m Lily Lambert.”
“What has that to do with anything?”
She gaped with shock. “Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Then in the months since I last saw you, you must have had your wits addled.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You’re babbling like a lunatic.” She started for the door.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I need to locate the housekeeper and find out what bedchamber has been assigned to me. I’m exhausted, and I’d like to lie down.”
He leapt into the threshold, blocking her way so she couldn’t step into the hall.
“You don’t have my permission to leave.”
