Penny heaved a sigh. “No, sir. I’ve not heard from the earl in a year. I’ve wondered about that attack many times. Have there been other incidents?”
Gray nodded. “Two others. All three required a certain level of planning and intimate knowledge. Rafe, last night Lily finally told me what passed between her and your father.”
“Did she now?” Rafe redirected his acrimony toward him.
“Don’t turn into a rabid older brother. Your father tried to force a match, and Lily reacted rather predictably and with spirit. Really, that’s neither here nor there. He demanded an answer in the morning but was gone. As was a maid.”
Rafe circled his desk and dropped in his chair. “You think she passed a message?”
“I think it’s likely. But she was a minor player. Besides you, Penny, have any other servants been brought on?” Gray crossed his feet at the ankles and slumped on the desk.
Penny mulled for a long minute. “No servants. Just Mrs. Winslow.”
Gray’s stomach dropped. It made a strange sort of sense. Could the scatter-brained, brash widow be betraying them?
The hand on Lily’s shoulder was insistent. Rolling to her back, she wanted nothing more than to sleep until luncheon, but she opened dry, sandy eyes anyway. Her aunt’s face hovered above her like a canopy. Slight jowls pulled down and worry wrinkled her eyes. For once, her aunt looked her age.
“Is something amiss?” Her voice was sleep hoarsened.
Her aunt executed a short pace next to the bed, her movements jerky. “Higgins informed me Mr. Masterson and Lord Drummond are interrogating Mr. Pendleton.”
“Interrogating Penny?” She bolted upright, catching the sheet but not before it betrayed her unclothed state.
Aunt Edie shook her head. “Not again, Lily. Giving him a sample is one thing, but the man will never come up to scratch if you keep letting him in your bed.”
“I’ll bear your advice in mind.” She sidled off the bed with the sheet wrapped around her to find a chemise. “Would you help me dress?”
Aunt Edie pulled out a demure white muslin dotted with flowers. It buttoned to the neck and the sleeves extended to the wrists. As soon as the interminable number of buttons was fastened, Lily spun toward the door.
Her aunt grabbed her arm and forced her to a stool. “Wait, your hair is a heap of tangles, and you’ve forgotten stockings and slippers.”
Lily tapped her toes while her aunt hummed a tuneless melody, twisting her hair into a semblance of order and pinning the mass at the base of her neck. With stockings and slippers on, she scampered to Rafe’s study, threw the door open and marched in.
Neither Rafe nor Gray had a pistol to Penny’s head or were otherwise threatening him. In fact, Rafe sat behind his desk and stroked his beard, looking the picture of calm thoughtfulness, and Gray slouched against the desk.
She stood next to Penny’s chair to make it clear whom she was allying herself with. “Penny has done nothing but protect me from the minute he came to the house. He could have easily given me over to those ruffians that attacked the carriage, but did he? Of course he didn’t, because he wouldn’t betray me. I don’t know what your plan is, but you’ll have to go through me to accomplish it. You’re wrong about him, Gray, can’t you see that?”
She stepped in front of Penny to offer him her protection. Gray’s eyes sparked and his lips twitched. He dared to laugh?
“Actually, I can see it. No, Penny’s not our culprit.” He leaned to the side and addressed her aunt. “Mrs. Winslow, would you be so good as to join us a moment?”
“Certainly.” Natural color painted her face as she shuffled forward.
Gray’s attention never strayed from the matron. “Please, shut the door on your way out, Penny.” The big man levered himself up, his hand finding Lily’s forearm for an instant, imparting a squeeze.
“Do you need help planning a social engagement?” Her bright tone was forced.
“You’ve done enough planning and scheming, haven’t you, Mrs. Winslow?” Gray’s voice seemed too casual for the rising tension in the room.
“Whatever do you mean?” Panic threaded the question.
Lily stared at her aunt. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Mrs. Winslow, who have you been passing information to?” Gray stood and loomed over the woman. Everything about him turned hard and dangerous.
Her aunt was now visibly shaking. “Well, in truth…I assumed it was…you, Mr. Masterson.”
“Me? Why in bloody hell would you think it was me?”
Aunt Edie looked ready to swoon, grabbling and easing herself into the chair Penny had occupied a few minutes earlier.
“Why did you feel the need to pass information in the first place?” Lily couldn’t keep the accusation and hurt from her voice.
“None of you understand what’s it’s like to be left alone and destitute. To be a burden. Neither of my brothers would take me in after my husband passed, or their wives wouldn’t allow it, I don’t know which. I tried a cousin, but she barely had coal enough to heat her house. I knew my relationship with you was tenuous, but Wintermarsh was my last option. I wasn’t sure how long you would allow me to stay. Any day, I could be tossed out.” Aunt Edie ended on a choke, her eyes filling with tears.
Not breaking eye contact with her aunt, Lily snapped and whispered, “Handkerchief, Gray.” Soft, folded cloth was slipped into her hand. In turn, she pressed the linen square in her aunt’s cold, trembling hand.
Aunt Edie dabbed at her cheeks and wiped her nose. “An elderly solicitor approached me one afternoon while I was shopping in Lipton. He offered a good amount of coin if I would pass on your social agenda once the Season began. He insinuated his employer was wealthy and smitten. Once we were in London, I noticed how Mr. Masterson would pop up at the most interesting times.”
“What do you mean?” Lily asked.
“Riding in the park, for instance. After Eversham’s ball, I saw him several mornings watching you from afar. He was obviously besotted.”
Lily swiveled to Gray. Color slashed his cheeks and a hand partially shaded his eyes.
“Is what she says true?”
Rafe tutted in amusement and a fair amount of disgust. “Of course it’s true, look at the poor sot. Sloppy work, Gray, sloppy indeed.”
Aunt Edie continued throwing wood on the fire of Gray’s mortification. “In Napier’s garden. And at Lady Matthews. Showing up at Wintermarsh unexpectedly. You all see me as a silly old woman, I know, but I notice more than you realize. I assumed—”
“Incorrectly.” Gray dropped his hand. “I can assure you, I’m not the man paying you. So if not me, then who? How did you pass the messages? Did you ever see the man?”
“No, I used a go-between.” She paused and everyone leaned toward her in expectation. “Your butler.”
Rafe and Gray locked eyes and both muttered through clenched teeth, “Higgins.”
Gray reached the door an instant before Rafe. His yell reverberated through the entry hall. “Higgins!”
There was no answer. Rafe led the way down the servant’s hall to the butler’s room. Fisting her skirts nearly to her knees, Lily followed.
She entered as Gray slammed the simple wardrobe’s door shut. “Gone. Everything’s gone. The little rat probably had his satchel ready. Now he’s going to scurry off to warn our prey.”
“I assume we’re going hunting tonight,” Rafe said.
“Hunting for what?” Lily grabbed Rafe’s arm, and when he turned to her, his eyes were as cold and hard as stone.
“Men.”
“We won’t have too much trouble finding Kurt or one of his friends. He seemed to cut a wide path,” Gray said. “I’ll need to change and catch a few hours of sleep. Will you take care?”
Although Gray directed the comment at Rafe, she didn’t miss the cutting
glance in her direction.
“Always.” Even though his eyes remained cold, a gruff warmth resided in the promise.
Lily sighed. “Are you talking about me? Because I can take care of myself.”
“Like you did last night?” Gray retorted.
She hated to admit, he’d made a fair point.
“Stay at home today. Pretend illness for any callers. Tonight, Rafe and I will figure out who is behind this mad scheme and end it.”
“End him.” The menace in Rafe’s voice was chilling.
“You mean to kill him.” Lily understood her brother better than anyone. She’d seen his fury, seen his sadness, seen him haunted. But she’d never seen the icy promise of death in his voice and eyes. Was this what the Crown had expected of him?
“Make no mistake, he will die. But not before we find Father.”
“Don’t bloody your hands further. Let the magistrate deal with him. That’s justice enough.”
“This man’s blood won’t weigh heavily on my conscience, trust me.” At that, he stalked off, a pent-up agitation in his movements.
After his steps faded, Lily turned to Gray, who leaned against the wardrobe. His eyes bore a similar stamp to Rafe’s. They’d been hot enough to singe her last night. Now she chafed her arms to encourage her cold blood to flow faster.
“Don’t let him kill. His ghosts are already too numerous,” she said.
“You’d rather I take care of matters?”
Swallowing hard, she treaded carefully, out of her depth of experience. “N-no. I’d rather you let the law deal with him.”
“We’re an arm of that law. On the Continent, we were tasked to dispense judgment.” He pushed off the paneled wood and approached her slowly as an animal stalks its prey. She took a step back, not because she was afraid of him, but because he seemed so distant and different.
“You’re not on the Continent. You’re not fighting a war in England. No one is asking you to wield the sword of judgment. I want you safe. Not locked in Newgate for murder. You’ve promised to marry me, remember?” Her tentative words matched the smile she gave him.
Tension ebbed from the room like the opening of a drain.
“I did indeed.” Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back and then brought her palm to settle on his bristled cheek. He closed his eyes. “Lily, I’ve done…terrible things, seen terrible things. Death and destruction have been my daily fare for years. The memories aren’t something one can slip off and leave behind like an old shabby coat.”
She squeezed his arm but didn’t move closer, didn’t try to use her body to impart the comfort he sought. “I’ll try to understand, but perhaps the only way to shed the memories is through time…and love.”
He opened his eyes. Warmth and life had replaced the icy dispassion. Gray led them back to the entry. “There are things I must do today, and a bit of sleep wouldn’t be remiss either. You kept me up all night.” His teasing lilt sounded unnatural, but she welcomed it nonetheless.
The study door was closed, but a murmur of voices permeated the thick wood. “What will happen to Aunt Edie?”
“That will be for your brother to decide.”
She took a step toward the study, but he caught her arm. “Don’t go charging to her defense. She justified it in her own mind, but she betrayed the family nonetheless. Rafe will be fair. This is part of his duty as head of the family.”
“Duty.” She harrumphed. “I would be married to Penhaven or another of his ilk if I felt such a compulsion.”
“Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?” His body reflected a sudden alertness, a thrumming energy.
“What is it, Gray?”
“Stay inside today. Stay safe.” With that, he bussed her forehead and was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Lily lounged on the chaise in the drawing room and tried not to check the ticking clock on the mantle. The cloudy skies made it appear perpetually afternoon. She couldn’t even mark time by the path of the sun.
Rafe had not emerged from his study after Aunt Edie had made a tearful escape to her room. Her aunt had refused her entreaties and knocks, and she was left to twiddle her thumbs in anticipation. Of what? It’s not as if the men would take her into Seven Dials to search for Kurt the Brute.
Just when a frustrated scream fought to escape, she heard voices in the entry. Penny had been pressed into service as a temporary butler, but he was to act as much her protector as greeter.
She popped her head out the door, catching sight of whirling rose-colored skirts. Minerva. Penny closed the door on her retreating form. Pushing past him, she grabbed the handle.
“Remember, no visitors, my lady,” he said as if he were telling a child to stay away from the peppermints.
“Blast that.” She threw the door open. “Minerva. I’m home and receiving. You at any rate.”
Her foot on the bottom step, Minerva turned. “Are you sure? Your butler informed me you were sick. Shooting the cat, to be exact.” Humor gave her words buoyancy.
Lily cut an exasperated look at Penny. “Just tell visitors I’m under the weather.”
“Thought it sounded more believable if you were doing something specific.” Penny shrugged, his tone unapologetic.
“How about snuffling then? No one wants to picture me heaving into a chamber pot. Come in, Minerva. It looks like it might rain any second, and I’m about to die of boredom.”
Her step jaunty and full of energy, Minerva climbed back up the steps. “I’m about to die of curiosity. I thought you might have called on me by now.”
“The gentlemen made me promise not to leave the townhouse.” She gestured for Minerva to precede her into the drawing room and then turned to find herself nearly nose to nose with Penny. He was taking his orders of protection rather strictly. “I’ll be perfectly safe with Lady Minerva. I don’t suppose you’d ask Cook to prepare a tea tray for our guest.”
His eyes looked mutinous, but he relented. “I’ll see what the old bat can scare up.” He clomped off. Lily suppressed laughter. A permanent position would not be in the offing.
As soon as the drawing room door closed, Minerva launched into a series of questions. “How was your dress received? Did you find Mr. Masterson? Did you find Gilmore? Any news on your father? What sort of things went on? Was it as scandalous as we supposed? Did you sneak back in your room with no trouble? Did anyone find you out?”
Pacing her walk to gain time, Lily regarded her friend and the anticipatory expression widening her blue eyes. Minerva sat on the edge of the settee and removed her gloves. Her blonde hair was somehow affixed to the crown of her head in several interwoven braids with not a hair out of place.
Her rose-colored day gown lent her an air of indefinable assurance. With a hint of bosom exposed and with fine Belgium lace frothing from elbows to wrists, she had the ability to give whatever she wore a noticeable elegance and certain style. Around Minerva, Lily felt her country gaucheness acutely.
“You’re looking truly lovely today, Minerva.”
She waved vaguely. “Thank you, my dear, but don’t try to deflect. I’ve earned a few answers, have I not?”
“You have. I’m deciding what to tackle first.”
“The dress.”
“Let’s see, the dress was well-received, although it didn’t survive the evening.” Identical blushes burnished their faces as soon as Lily’s words registered. Lily patted her cheeks. “That is going to require some clarification.”
She gave Minerva an encapsulated version of events, leaving out the more scandalous portions of the evening and concentrating on the facts of the investigation.
“Attacked by three men.” Minerva’s hand was over her mouth. “You could have been killed.”
“Well, I wasn’t. Gray saved me,” Lily said with a false lightness. “He suspects someone but won’t say
who. And I still don’t know what Rafe decided about Aunt Edie.”
“Surely your brother wouldn’t be so cruel as to toss her out. She would end up starving on the streets…or worse.”
“He’s more tender-hearted than he lets on. Unfortunately, he’s also highly unpredictable and slightly hot-tempered. Aunt Edie’s still in her room. Whether she collapsed in relief or is packing her belongings, I can’t say.” She looked to the ceiling and worried her lip.
A booted foot cracked the door open, and Penny sidled into the room, bearing a rattling tray. Lily relieved him of his burden and regained her seat. He stood at the door with his legs braced apart and his hands clasped behind his back—the very picture of a sentinel on guard.
“That will be all, Penny.” She shooed him away like a stray dog, but he didn’t move. “Would it be acceptable to stand in the entry hall instead? Lady Minerva and I have things of a personal nature to discuss. You’d be close enough to hear my cries of distress as she attempts to murder me.”
“It’s no jesting matter, my lady.”
Lily schooled the amusement out of her eyes and mouth. “Of course, it isn’t. I appreciate your concern. But Gray has already agreed that Lady Minerva is no longer a suspect.”
A grunt was his response, but he backed out of the room after giving them both a warning glare.
Lily poured two cups of tea.
“What did you mean ‘no longer a suspect’? What exactly did you suspect me of?” Minerva had pressed her palms into the settee, stiff arms forcing her shoulders up.
Lily froze with outstretched hands, the teacup tinkling. “I suspected you of nothing, but only a handful of people knew my movements. You happen to be one of them.”
“Goodness, considering I’ve never even uttered a blasphemous word, it’s hard to imagine someone suspecting me of kidnapping and attempted murder.” She relaxed and reached for the teacup Lily still held.
They took a few sips in silence, but Lily could almost see Minerva’s mind whirling. “You suspect a peer. One of your suitors mayhap? What about Montbatton?”
An Indecent Invitation: Spies and Lovers, Book 1 Page 22
