He left the hallway and ensconced himself in his office and did a pisspoor job of responding to the correspondence his secretary had left for him to go through. Hours and hours went by, except when he looked at his watch, it had been exactly fifty-seven minutes since he’d sat down. Just over an hour since he’d carried Lily to her room. A little more since he’d come home to find that damned Fenris waiting. He returned to his letters and another eternity.
Someone tapped on the door.
Mountjoy muttered, “Thank God,” and threw the letter he was reading onto the top of the pile of correspondence he would have to read again.
It was Doyle, with Dr. Longfield, whom Nigel had brought to the house to look after Lily. Mountjoy stayed at his desk and waved the doctor to a seat, privately glad of the interruption. Doyle retreated. Mountjoy was very good at appearing to be busy and engaged in important matters. Matters of State, even. “How is Miss Wellstone?”
The doctor perched on the edge of the chair across from his desk. “Quite a remarkable woman, as I’m sure you know.”
“Do you think so?”
“Delightful smile and—ahem—extremely beautiful woman. Very well formed, I must say. Brilliant mind, too, if one can say that of a female.”
He quirked one eyebrow.
“Very spirited and amusing, which I’m sure your grace has noticed.”
Mountjoy tapped a finger on the table. He recognized in the doctor all the symptoms of infatuation with Lily Wellstone. “Since you found her spirited, am I permitted to assume that her health is no longer a matter of concern?”
“Her finger is well healed, I was pleased to note.”
“Excellent.” He forced a smile, but it wasn’t her bloody finger that worried him.
Dr. Longfield grabbed the top of one knee and rocked on his chair. “How is it she’s unmarried? A puzzling thing that at her age no man should have snapped her up.”
Mountjoy moved a pile of correspondence from one side of his desk to the other. He didn’t trust himself to look the doctor in the eye, torn as he was between wanting to laugh out loud or tell the man if he so much as breathed Lily’s name he’d find himself outside of the house looking in. “Ought we to be more concerned with her present health than with her marital status, doctor?”
“Provided she does not overexert herself, she’s as well as can be expected, which is well enough, your grace. And so I told her.”
Mountjoy stood abruptly. Ten more seconds of this prattle and he’d go stark raving mad. “You see no need for concern?”
“Very little.”
“Then thank you for coming here on such short notice.”
“I’ve warned her she’s far too delicate to stand in the sun as she did.”
Mountjoy came around from behind his desk to put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and guide him to the door.
“She mustn’t be permitted to engage in such excess again. A delicate thing like her. You may tell her, your grace, that I forbid it.”
“I will do exactly as you advise, thank you, doctor.” Mountjoy opened the door. “You may rely on it.”
He tugged at his coat. “Excellent.”
“You know the way out?”
“Indeed, sir.” The doctor crossed into the hallway then turned and bowed. “Give Miss Wellstone my regards, won’t you?”
“I shall.”
“Good day, your grace.”
“Good day, doctor.”
Mountjoy returned to his desk and stared at the patterns in the grain of the wood. He wanted to see Lily. Alone. He wanted to throw away all this damned correspondence and lock himself away where he and Lily would not be disturbed. He picked up the next letter in the batch he was supposed to read through. The words ran together like ants drunk on blue fire.
Half a lifetime passed and he got through precisely none of the letters. Someone knocked on the door, and he practically shouted in relief. “Enter.”
His sister came in. She was a different woman since Lily had come. So young and pretty, if one could think such a thing about one’s sister. “Mountjoy.”
He rose and gestured to the chair Dr. Longfield had vacated. “Eugenia.”
Instead of sitting she stood behind the chair, her hands resting on the top rail. “You’ll think me presumptuous for this. Oh, do sit down, Mountjoy.”
He did, leaning against his chair and picking up his pen. The ink had dried on the nib. “Yes?”
She bit her lower lip. “I’ve come about Lily.”
He picked up his penknife and set himself to sharpening the point of his quill. “Dr. Longfield assures me she’s in excellent health, though he warned me she’s to stay out of the sun.”
“He said the same thing to me. But Mountjoy, that’s not why I’ve come.”
“Oh?”
“I’m worried you’ll be hurt.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Lily is my dear, dear friend. I love her better than anyone. She’s amusing and intelligent and very, very beautiful.”
“Yes,” he said carefully. “She is all that. But I fail to see what that has to do with me.”
Eugenia licked her lips. “You won’t be surprised to know that other men have loved her.” She gripped the top of the chair. “But Mountjoy, she never cared for a one of them, and…I don’t think she ever will. She never led them on, she’s not that sort of woman. She’s like me after Robert.”
“Eugenia…”
“Please don’t interrupt, or I’ll lose my nerve.”
He gestured.
“I’ll never love any man but Robert. And Lily, she’s met the only man she will ever love.” His sister’s eyes were too bright.
“There is no need for tears,” he said. He dropped the penknife on the blotter and offered her his handkerchief.
She waved it off. “I’m not crying.”
“As you say.” He continued to hold out his handkerchief.
“I’m not.” Eugenia took it from him and dabbed at her eyes.
“I won’t disagree with you that Miss Wellstone is a beautiful and vivacious woman.”
“She is.”
“I enjoy her company. Most of the time. So does your brother. I’m glad she’s here, for she’s done you a world of good.”
Eugenia gave him a tremulous smile. “That’s true.”
“She’s made me see that I have neglected you. I have not done my duty by you, and for that I apologize.”
“Oh, no, Mountjoy. Never.”
“She took me to task for my treatment of you, and she was right to do so, but you mustn’t think I’m angry with her for that.”
“Angry?”
He steeled himself and said, “Is that not why you came here?”
“No.” She sat on the chair, one hand over her heart. “You can’t imagine how relieved I am to hear you say that.” She shook her head. “You’ll think me such a goose. I was worried she might have engaged your affections without your knowing, that’s all.”
“Engaged my affections?”
“I apologize, Mountjoy. Of course that’s not happened. We all know you love Miss Kirk. It’s just I’ve seen it happen to other men where Lily is concerned.”
Mountjoy schooled his expression. “Eugenia.” He laughed, and he even sounded convincing. “I am not in love with Miss Wellstone.”
“Thank goodness. I am sorry, Mountjoy for jumping to conclusions about your feelings for Lily.”
“You’ve no need to apologize.” He smiled and picked up his pen. “Please close the door when you go.”
Another century passed with him having given up any pretense of working. Then Doyle tapped on his office door and informed him it was time to change for supper.
He absolutely was not in love with Lily.
Chapter Twenty-three
LILY CAME DOWNSTAIRS FOR SUPPER PRECISELY AT SIX o’clock that evening, much recovered from the morning’s treasure hunting experience and firm in her conviction that morning activities were to be avoi
ded at all costs. She wore her very best evening gown, a crimson silk worked with gold embroidery and a gold underskirt that peeked from the scalloped hem. She had spent several afternoons before her departure for Bitterward fashioning the trim on the bodice and hem.
One curl of her hair was loose and trailed along the side of her neck. A matching arrangement of gold lace and crimson roses was affixed below a gold-filigree hair comb in the curls pinned at the back of her head. She’d even changed the ribbon for her medallion to a red one.
From the doorway, she had a view of Mountjoy and his brother before either man saw her. Every atom of her attention was for Mountjoy. He was seated on a chair, reading a paperbound journal while Lord Nigel stood staring into the fireplace, one foot on the grate. Mountjoy was as badly dressed as ever, yet the sight of him made her happy.
She straightened her skirts, adjusted the gold lace at her neckline, and tugged on her bodice before she walked in. Mountjoy saw her first, but all he did was set his journal on his lap. Lord Nigel turned his back to the fire and gave her an elaborate bow of the sort he only gave her when his brother was around to see it. Mountjoy stood, setting his volume on the table beside him.
She curtseyed. “Good evening, your grace. Lord Nigel.”
“Miss Wellstone.” Lord Nigel came forward to take her hand. “I hope you’re feeling better.”
“I am, thank you.”
“You look lovely.”
As a matter of fact, she was quite sure she did look lovely. She glanced at Mountjoy, but he stayed where he was, hands behind his back. If he admired her appearance tonight more, or even less, than any other time, she could not tell.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” she said. He was supposed to have changed for supper, but could one even be sure? His cravat, which was not sufficiently starched, was loosened, and his coat was unbuttoned. Not unforgivable, that unbuttoned coat, but his waistcoat, that was unforgivable. The garment was muddy brown silk with small red lozenges that did not hide the knobs in the weave. Silk, yes, but poor quality. The design was not bad, but the colors and tailoring were unfortunate and inferior. She made a mental note to visit the man’s tailor as soon as possible.
Mountjoy approached her at last, and with a flicker of his attention to her bosom, he bent over her hand. “Good evening, Miss Wellstone.”
“Your grace.”
He took something from his pocket. The corners of his mouth twitched. “I have something you ought to see.”
“What could it be?” She was no longer shocked at the hard thump of her pulse when their eyes briefly locked. There was nothing astonishing about her finding another man attractive, after all. She’d reacted that way to Greer even before she’d fallen in love with him and long before Greer had let her know he felt the same.
He opened his hand and held it out. “This.”
She came close enough to see an irregularly shaped circle no larger than her smallest fingernail and so dark a copper that the object, at first glance, appeared black. Her heart sank after she plucked it from his hand. “Where did you get this, sir? From a shop in High Tearing by chance?”
The twitch of his mouth broadened into a smile. A very smug smile. “I kept several of them back from among the coins Nigel and I found near the river that day. They’ve been in my quarters ever since. Safe from the inquisitive fingers of boys who build trebuchets.”
Lily stared at the coin in her hand. She hated to lose. Abhorred it.
“I believe, Miss Wellstone,” he said in a low voice, “that I have won our wager.”
She would have answered, but Ginny’s arrival gave her an excuse to silently return the coin. He pocketed it, still with his smug grin.
“What wager is that?” Ginny crossed the room to envelop Lily in a quick embrace. “Lovely to see you. I was worried you wouldn’t feel well enough to come downstairs.”
“I’m quite well now, Ginny.”
She held Lily at arm’s length. “Don’t you look lovely?” She glanced at her brothers. “Doesn’t she look lovely?”
Lord Nigel made another elaborate bow and said, “As ever.”
Mountjoy said nothing, but Lily felt the heat of his gaze.
Lord Nigel coughed into his hand. “Eugenia, I have business that will take me to London tomorrow. Is there anything I can bring back for you?”
“You’re going to London?” Mountjoy asked.
Ginny turned to her younger brother. “You’ll be back in time for our ball, won’t you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He bowed to the duke. “Yes. I’ve business there. I won’t be long. A few days.”
“You’d better not,” Ginny said. “We’re counting on you to dance with all the young ladies too terrified to dance with Mountjoy.”
“Of course, Eugenia. Your errands?”
“Would you mind stopping at Hookam’s for me? There are several books I’d like. I’ll write down the titles for you.” Ginny headed to the writing desk to do just that, sweeping her skirts out of the way as she sat. She wore white, and Lily thought she looked just splendid.
“Miss Wellstone?” Lord Nigel asked. “Anything for you? Books? Ribbons? Candied almonds? I know you’re fond of them. When I go to London I always bring back nougat for Eugenia.”
“Thank you, Lord Nigel, that would be lovely.”
“Mountjoy, what should Nigel bring back for Jane?” Ginny said from the desk where she was writing her list. She looked over her shoulder. “My dear brother,” she said. “Do not tell me you haven’t any idea.”
Lily shot a glance at Mountjoy, who stood impassive.
“Then I must remain silent.”
Ginny sighed. “Nigel, bring her back some lace. I’ll write down the name of the shop. Brussels lace if you can get it.”
“I promise you,” Lord Nigel said quickly, “I’ll bring back everything she requires.”
“Something for all the Misses Kirk,” Ginny said, still writing.
“Certainly.” Lord Nigel turned to his brother. “What have you done with the treasure, Mountjoy? It’s not still in the wagons, is it?”
“No,” the duke answered smoothly. “I took the liberty of moving the artifacts to the old stillroom. If you are not familiar with the location, Miss Wellstone, Eugenia can show you where it is.”
“Thank you.” Their eyes met again. Head on, and she lost all sense of anyone or anything but him, and she did not often lose her self-possession. He did not look away. Or smile. Goodness, but his eyes were an astonishing green, and his hair, though worn a shade too long, suited his careless manner.
“Here.” Ginny stretched backward over the desk chair, extending the notepaper to Lord Nigel, who took the sheet from her and slipped it into an inside pocket of his coat. “Thank you, Nigel.”
Lily tore her gaze from Mountjoy. “We’ll need a detailed inventory of what we found, Ginny. Perhaps you and I could begin tomorrow?”
“If you like. But I’ve just had the most wonderful idea,” Ginny said.
“Oh?”
She shifted to face her younger brother. “Nigel, what if Lily and I went to London with you?” She turned again, this time to address Mountjoy. “May we stay at the town house?”
“That would not be convenient,” Lord Nigel said.
“Whyever not?” She gripped the top of the chair and leaned over it. “No one stays there when Mountjoy’s at Bitterward. As well open the house for one person as three. We won’t bother you, Nigel, I promise.”
“I’m very sorry, Eugenia,” Lord Nigel said. He wiped his hands down the front of his coat. “But I’m leaving before dawn, and I’m not taking the carriage.”
“A trip to London is a lovely idea, but, Ginny, I cannot go,” Lily said, partly because it was true, but also because Lord Nigel obviously did not want their company. “Not tomorrow, at any rate.”
“Why not?”
She sent a quick glance in Mountjoy’s direction. She had so little time before she had to retu
rn to Syton House, and she did not want to spend any of it away from Mountjoy. “Your brother has produced a coin that was the subject of a wager we made earlier this afternoon.”
Not Wicked Enough Page 22
