Her ball gown was the color of the champagne coming from his wine cellar in such copious amounts, and he did not see that so distinctive hue anywhere in the room. He stayed until the set ended, watching his guests enjoying themselves while he looked for Lily. She’d danced several times tonight, but he hadn’t asked her yet. He wanted to waltz with her.
People applauded the orchestra when the members put down their instruments, and soon after couples and groups formed for the meal that would be served during the intermission. They were enjoying themselves, he thought. Young and old alike, and he had Lily and Eugenia to thank for that.
He headed for the terrace by way of his office where he kept his cigars. His office was at the end of this corridor and ought to be closed, as that was not a room intended to be open to his guests. The door was ajar, however, though there was no light inside other than the moonlight through the windows. Mountjoy walked in, reaching as he did, for the flint by the door. He did not light the lamp because the room was occupied.
“Is that you, Wellstone?”
“Your grace,” she said. She was on the sofa by the fireplace. Her soft greeting was forlorn. So very unlike her on a night that was her triumph. Success in everything, the ball, the house, Eugenia smiling and in colors, and him looking like a man born to his title.
He pushed the office door closed and crossed to her. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t believe I am.”
“Tell me what’s the matter.” Anything. He’d do anything to keep her from being unhappy.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her head away from him.
“Are you crying?” He sat beside her and took her hand in his. With her other hand, she swiped at her face.
“Certainly not. I never cry.” When she faced him, her features were composed. She rested a hand on his upper chest, but her voice quavered when she spoke. “Have I told you, Mountjoy, how absolutely splendid you look tonight?”
He could not bear the thought of her in tears, not for any reason. She was too subdued for him to believe all was well. It wasn’t, and that tugged at his heart. “Thanks entirely to you.”
“Your valet put you together very well. The success is his, I assure you.”
“He was in raptures when the first of the suits arrived.”
Lily opened her mouth to speak but didn’t. He watched, helpless, as she simply dissolved. He put an arm around her shoulder, and she collapsed against him, tears flowing. He’d seen women cry before, some of those tears heartfelt, but the fact of Lily, confident, happy Lily, sobbing against his chest broke something in him.
“Lily. Darling, what is it? What’s happened?”
She shook her head.
Mountjoy held her until some of the tension went out of her shoulders. “Can you tell me?”
She kept her hand on his chest. “Lord Fenris is here, and it’s upset Ginny. She does not like the man. Not at all.”
He thought of his sister, dancing with the mayor. “He seems to have upset you as well. Has he insulted you? Shall I find him and send him away? I will if having him here pains you.”
“I’ve never had any family.” Her fingers curled around the lapel of his coat. “No one but my father, that is. And now, after all this time thinking Lord Fenris meant me no good, I wish there were a way for us to mend things between us.”
Mountjoy fished out his spare handkerchief and handed it to her. He wanted very much to vilify the man, but he didn’t. Though he didn’t make an endorsement of him either.
“Thank you.” She took his handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes. She sucked in a breath and let it out. “I’ve been his relation all along. Why take notice of me now? It’s just that…” She looked at him, her eyes glittering with tears. “I should like to have family of my own. Is that so terrible?”
“Lily,” Mountjoy said. He took his handkerchief from her and dabbed at her cheek. “My dear Lily.”
“Ginny dislikes him. With reason, I know that. He treated her infamously, and I wouldn’t for the world force her to tolerate anyone she holds in such abhorrence. I can’t.”
He cupped her face with one hand and could not for his life parse out what he was feeling. “You are a loyal friend to my sister.”
“I told you that the day I arrived.”
“So you did.” He kept his hand on her cheek. “I’ll talk to him for you. Find out once and for all why he’s here.”
She leaned her head against his chest, and Mountjoy put an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close. She held up her medallion. “If only the magic would make my relations pleasant people. Now that would be useful.”
Mountjoy laughed. “Lily, darling,” he said without thinking, “this is exactly why I love you.”
She sat up, though he kept his arm around her. Neither of them spoke for the space of half a breath. The quiet was fraught. He’d never said those words before, not to anyone, not on purpose. Nor on accident. Not even when he was a green boy.
Until now.
Mountjoy kissed her to stop the quiet or her potential question, he wasn’t sure which. He hadn’t meant that he loved her, not precisely. As was always the case with him and Lily, the kiss was immediately carnal. Wonderfully, wholly uninhibited. He didn’t want to ruin her ball gown nor the arrangement of her hair, not when there was still more dancing to be done, so he fetched her with his fingers and his mouth, and when he’d had the pleasure of hearing, seeing, and tasting her pleasure, he found he couldn’t think why she shouldn’t use her hands on him, which she did, and then she finished him with her mouth, and he clamped his hands on the sofa while she did, so that he wouldn’t reach for her head and leave her hair a tangled mess.
While he came, he thought he’d be damned if he let Fenris hurt her. Damned. Not for any reason.
Chapter Twenty-eight
LILY LAY CURLED UP IN HER BED, IN A STATE THAT WAS not quite awake yet not asleep either. Her maid tapped on the door between her dressing room and the bedchamber. She ignored the sound, including the creak of the connecting door as it opened. Her dream was vivid in her mind, and she did not want to give it up. In between lovely, slow kisses, Mountjoy was declaring himself head over heels in love with her.
“Miss?”
He’d said those words. I love you, Lily.
He hadn’t meant them, but the effect on her had been nearly the same as if he had. She pulled the covers over her head and tried to fall back into her already fading dream. Something delicious about Mountjoy.
“Miss,” her maid said. “Doyle said I ought to tell you, or I’d not bother you at this hour. Not for anything.”
“What?” she said from beneath the sheets. The linens smelled of lavender and they were warm around her body. Perfect for hours more dreaming.
“You have a caller, miss.”
Who on earth would be calling on her here? She stayed with her legs drawn up and the covers warm around her. “What time is it?”
“Half past eleven, miss.”
“Eleven?” She groaned. She was going to have to see whoever it was. But that did not make her any fonder of mornings. Even if her maid went away this very second, her cozy half-dreaming state was over, and she would never get back to Mountjoy and his wonderful dream kisses and declarations of love. “In a moment,” she said.
“It’s the Marquess of Fenris himself, and Doyle said you ought to be told he’s waiting.”
She turned over and lowered the sheet enough to see her maid’s expression was serious. Her heart thudded as the name registered. “Lord Fenris?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Does Lady Eugenia know he’s here?”
“She went into High Tearing this morning. With the duke.”
Now that was a stroke of luck for Fenris, wasn’t it? To have arrived when both Ginny and Mountjoy were out. Coincidence? Or something else? She pushed herself onto her elbows. “Did Lord Fenris happen to mention the purpose of his call?”
“Why
, I suppose, to speak with you.”
“Is there anyone with him?” A lawyer, perhaps, with papers to serve on her. “Another gentlemen. Probably carrying a leather case?”
“No, miss. At least Doyle didn’t say. Shall I tell him you’re not at home?”
She wished she weren’t. “No. I’ll see him.”
“You ought to wear your rose frock, I think,” her maid said.
Lily sighed. “Oh, very well.” She was going to have to face Fenris sooner or later, if only to tell him he must leave her in peace. She might as well do so now. “Tell him I’ll be down shortly.”
“Yes, miss.”
She folded the covers to below her chin and spoke to her maid’s retreating back. “I suppose someone should offer him tea and something to eat.”
“Miss.”
“When you return, would you bring some chocolate and perhaps a roll and butter? Porridge if there is any.”
“Yes, miss.”
She groaned and stretched out on the mattress. By the time the maid returned with the food—her roll was still warm, there was honey and butter in the porridge, and the chocolate was steaming hot—she was standing in front of her wardrobe working out what frock one ought to wear while meeting a long estranged relative whose fondest wish might be to have her locked away for a madwoman, never to be seen again.
“What parlor is he waiting in?” Lily asked when she approved of the results of her hair. “The Oldenburg?”
“No, miss. He’s in the Prussian salon.”
“Ah.” The predominant color of the Prussian salon was blue. There was, in fact, a sofa in a gorgeous shade of the blue after that name. “You’re right about the rose frock. I’ll wear that.”
“Yes, miss.”
The ash pink bodice would look delectable when she sat on that Prussian blue sofa. The hours she’d spent affixing ribbon of the exact right color to the gown, no more the exquisite Brussels lace, had been more than worth the time. The dress was brought out, and while her maid took it off to press, Lily ate her breakfast.
Forty minutes later she was outside the Prussian salon, as nervous as she’d ever been in her life. She took a deep breath to compose herself before she opened the door.
Her cousin stood with his back to her, staring out the window opposite the door. His hair was cut close to his head, so short that she wondered if he’d recently been ill. He was tall and well made with a wiry build. Not at all sickly. His clothes were once again severe yet perfectly cut.
“My lord?” She walked in. Whatever he wanted, she would soon know. Reconciliation, as she hoped? Or something far more dire? “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”
Fenris turned. His eyes flicked down to her slippers and back to her face. He smiled, but without warmth. “It’s hardly been a moment, Miss Wellstone.”
She approached him and curtseyed while he bent over her hand. Fenris was more handsome than she remembered, with brown eyes, though not as dark as hers. She studied him and did not know if she found similarities between them because she so badly wanted there to be, or whether there really was a likeness between them. “Shall I send for tea?”
“No, thank you.” He seemed to be studying her as acutely as she did him.
“My lord.” She walked to the Prussian blue sofa and perched on the edge, back straight, feet planted squarely on the floor. She gestured to a chair. “Will you sit?”
“Thank you, but I prefer to stand.” He was holding a packet in one hand. Her heart sank, for she was beyond certain those were legal documents.
“As you wish.”
“How is your hand? Has your injury healed? I trust it was not serious.”
She wriggled her fingers. “A nuisance, really. It’s nearly healed now. Thank you for asking.”
“And your…illness? The day Mountjoy carried you into the house?”
Fenris, she thought, seemed garrulous for a man who intended to destroy her life. “Perfectly recovered.”
Silence fell, and she left it to Fenris to make his purpose known. If he wished to serve her with papers, why hadn’t he sent an attorney to do that for him?
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how much you know about me.…”
She met his gaze forthrightly. “You are the heir to my uncle, the Duke of Camber. The previous duke was your grandfather and mine. My mother was your aunt, and therefore, Lord Fenris, you have the misfortune of being my cousin.”
“Hardly a misfortune.”
“I confess, sir, after all this time, I wonder what business you think you might have with me.”
“I find myself in a difficult situation.” He paced, the packet of documents still clutched in one hand.
Oh, no doubt he did. She clasped her hands on her lap. Honestly, did he expect her to sympathize with his effort to destroy her life?
“For days, I’ve walked from one end of High Tearing to the other, turning matters over in my mind. Wondering what I ought to do.”
“A very bracing walk. I’m sure it’s improved your constitution.”
He stopped his pacing and stood with his hands behind him. “My grandfather, our grandfather, never spoke of your mother. Nor did my father. I was at Eton at the time she married. They told me,” he said, “that she’d passed away.”
She quirked her eyebrows in response.
“I had no reason to believe my father lied to me, Miss Wellstone. I was a boy at the time, still at school when he wrote with the news.”
“I cannot, and do not, blame you for what happened when you were a boy.”
He blanched. “Would that my own family had been as tolerant. As you might imagine, there was an uproar when we learned Great-Aunt Lily had left everything to you. That, Miss Wellstone, was when I learned of your existence.”
“Indeed?”
“Quite.”
She remained silent.
“I was shocked to discover my aunt—your mother—hadn’t died as they told me she had, but had instead married and even had a child.” He drew in a long breath. “I was equally shocked to learn I had a cousin I knew nothing about.” He drew another breath, but Lily said nothing. “Everything in secret.” He paced again. “I was…appalled by the lies, Miss Wellstone. My own father, perpetuating such a deception.” He stopped walking. “Upon learning of your inheritance, my father immediately met with his attorneys.”
“I am aware.”
He looked sheepish. “Yes, you must be. At any rate, as you also know, the properties and the monies were Aunt Lily’s to dispose of as she wished, and eventually the family lawyers had no choice but to advise my father he would be unlikely to prevail if he continued to pursue the matter.”
Lily pressed her lips together. Was he about to tell her he’d secured a more favorable legal opinion? In such a case, would she not be hearing from an attorney, and not Fenris himself? Ah, but then there was that mysterious packet he carried. The one that contained legal documents. “I see.”
“I persuaded him there was nothing to be gained by going forward as he wished. Other than the enrichment of our lawyers. And yours.”
If he was already in possession of papers that declared her incompetent, he would he have brought the bailiff to secure her. Or was he confident she would simply go along with a heinous plan to lock her away? “Sir. I have yet to understand why you are here. Nothing you’ve said is anything my own solicitor has not already told me. Perhaps not the particulars, but the result is what matters, I daresay.”
“True.”
“Nevertheless,” she said, “I thank you for your intervention with your father. You saved us both a great deal of aggravation and money.”
He nodded. He was quite a handsome man. Not like Mountjoy, but appealing nonetheless. “A few weeks ago I came across letters that my aunt—not your mother, I mean, but our great-aunt and your namesake—left behind at my father’s house. She kept a study there, and after she passed, my father never went through the room.” He stood very straight, as a military man
might.
Lily’s stomach dropped. “You found another will.”
“A will?” His eyebrows drew together. “No. Not at all. I found letters. From you.” He held out his packet. “I thought I ought to return them to you.”
Lily rose with all the dignity at her command. “There is only so much ill will I’ll tolerate from anyone, even a future duke. You traveled all this way, spent all these days here in order to make the grand gesture of returning Aunt Lily’s letters to me? Because, naturally, you would not wish the letters of such a woman as I am to remain in your house.” She held out her hand. “Please give me the letters so that you may be on your way home.”
Not Wicked Enough Page 26
