Lili knew that she had Will now. His lips were trembling, his breath came and went along with her own. She felt a surge of triumph, of power, as she began to unhook her embroidered satin stays. As the stiff buckram at the front parted, he made a sound deep in his throat.
Before she knew it, he was across the room, on the bed beside her, bearing her down with his weight. He pulled at the drawstring on her chemise, pushed the linen aside with one hand. That hand, like fire, cupped her breast.
No, thought Lili, on a sudden surge of panic. He would know what she was feeling, he would know too much. She felt weak, giddy—giddier still when he bent his head, when she felt his mouth, his tongue, moving across bare skin. When she made an inarticulate sound of protest, Will drew back a little, breathing hard.
She could feel his warm breath on her breast as he spoke. “I intend to taste every inch of your skin.”
And I am the one who is going to burn like a torch, thought Lili, somewhere between panic and pleasure. Then she cast away pride, abandoned all sense of shame, and simply gave herself up to whatever was going to happen next.
33
Mid-morning found Will and Lili at the breakfast table. The previous night had been a revelation of more than physical passion, and the tea, toast, baked apples, and chocolate were consumed in a self-conscious atmosphere of sidelong glances, and only half-concealed smiles. Lili—in a striped satin dressing gown—pretended to be reading a letter from her Aunt Allora, and Will—as yet unshaven—was doing justice to the toast and baked apples, though it appeared doubtful he tasted a single bite.
In the middle of the meal, there came a sudden and unexpected loud tapping at one of the casements. Lili glanced up from her letter. Something large and black was fluttering outside the window, rattling its beak against the panes of glass.
“How odd. It almost looks as though that bird is trying to get in.”
Will was staring at the window, too. The raven was not only trying to get in, it was holding something small and brightly colored in its beak. He rose slowly to his feet, still keeping his eyes on the window. “There is a chill in this room, my sweet love. I’ll go upstairs and fetch you a shawl.”
Lili was obviously moved by his tender solicitude. “No, Will—really. Or, if you insist, we can ring for—” But he was already across the room and out the door before she could finish the sentence.
He ran up four flights in his stocking-feet, taking them two steps at a time. He flung open the bedchamber door and stepped inside, swept a quick glance around to make certain none of the servants were present—then he was across the room in three long strides, unfastening one of the windows.
The raven heard the creak of the opening casement. Abandoning its attempts on the dining-parlor below, it came fluttering up to the bedchamber window and landed on the wooden sill.
The words beat against Will’s mind as the raven’s beak had beat against the window panes. And in that beak he saw the tell-tale scrap of scarlet ribbon, a prearranged token.
The raven jumped from the window ledge to the floor. Will went down on one knee, put out a hand to touch the glossy black head of the bird. It was easier to communicate if they were actually in contact.
Will took a long breath and let it out slowly. This was very good news; yet, with his mind still full of Lili and the night before, he could not help thinking it could hardly have come at a worse time.
Lili had put aside Allora’s letter and was drinking her chocolate when Will returned without her shawl. He had finished dressing in a tearing hurry, was just shrugging into his coat as he crossed the threshold. His boots clattered on the floor as he crossed the room and dropped a quick, apologetic kiss on her hair.
“The stupidest thing. A message came from the Volary while we were eating breakfast, and some fool of a footman took it upstairs and left it in my dressing room. It appears urgent, so I have to go. This morning of all mornings—when I would have given the world to stay with you here.”
“Yes, I see,” said Lili, with a puzzled frown. “Though I never heard a knock at the—” She gave a tiny gasp as Will pulled her up to her feet, caught her in his arms, and stopped her from speaking with a hard kiss on the mouth.
It was a somewhat prickly kiss, as he was still unshaven, but Lili was happy to participate anyway. Unfortunately, it ended too soon. Will spoke in her ear, still holding her tightly around the waist. “I may have to leave the city today, for—for what might be a considerable time. I swear to you, I would never go if it was anything less than vitally important—not after last night. There are still so many things that I need to say to you.”
The breath-taking embrace was suddenly removed, and Will’s boots went clattering across the room, before Lili had time to recover.
But he stopped with one hand on the door, and said with a last pleading glance: “Promise me you won’t go anywhere, until I’ve had the chance to stop back and say good-bye. If I have to move Heaven and earth, I’ll try to be back within the next two hours.”
Will had only been gone a few minutes when Lili’s mind began to work again. An urgent summons from the king—had it not been a secret message, Will would have explained it. She felt her heart leap as she realized what that message might be. Acting with sudden decision, she left the room, started up the rosewood staircase. If the king had sent for Sir Frederic and his friend Doctor Fox when he sent for Wilrowan, she ought to be hearing from Sir Bastian very soon.
But Lili had ample time to dress before news finally arrived. It came in the form of a note carried upstairs by one of the footmen. Tearing it open, she scanned it quickly. The message was brief: “Be prepared to leave Hawkesbridge at once. I will make the other arrangements.”
She sat on her bed staring down at the words. Leave Hawkesbridge at once? Well, of course—the Specularii wanted her to arrive wherever she was going and do whatever had to be done, before Will came along on the same business, and spoiled everything with his “lack of discretion and self-regulation.”
Lili closed her eyes, tried to shut out the picture, so clear in her mind, of Will’s face on the pillow beside her, so open, so vulnerable, so full of emotion. We could do this together, Wilrowan and I, something inside her protested. But no, the decision had already been made—and though not by her, at least it was a decision she had agreed to honor.
“Don’t go anywhere—if I have to move Heaven and earth, I’ll try to be back within two hours.” Will’s parting words seemed to echo in the room. Two hours did not leave her much time to get ready, and he might be back even before that. Putting the note aside, Lili sprang to her feet.
She dashed off a quick reply to Sir Bastian, asking him to come for her within the next hour. Then she set about packing as many of her clothes as she could fit into a single trunk.
But he asked me to wait for him. How can I do this—after such a night? It was an inward cry of anguish, as Lili stood before a mirror in the downstairs hall, tying the ribbons of her chipstraw hat under her chin. But she knew the answer even as she asked the question. Something important was afoot, something that might affect the future of Mountfalcon, the future of the whole world—and the Specularii were depending on he
r and her talents.
And it had been a wonderful, a remarkable night, but it had only been one out of six years, seven years of nights. How could she know if it really meant as much to Wilrowan as it meant to her?
Once she had instructed a footman to carry her trunk to the foot of the stairs, there was nothing left to be done but to go into the sitting room and compose a letter to Will. She hesitated with the quill in her hand, not knowing what she would say. The obvious thing was to invent some story, some plausible excuse, to say that Papa or Aunt Allora had taken ill, that she was needed back home at Brakeburn. Yet she found she could not lie to him, this of all mornings. Besides, it was entirely possible their paths might eventually cross. If so, he would realize she had deceived him, and never be able to trust her again.
While Lili was still agonizing over her letter, there came the rumble of a heavy coach pulling up outside. She put down the pen, stole a quick look out through a window. It was, as she had expected, the black berlin.
With a heavy heart, she returned to the table, to her pen and paper. Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she scribbled a few quick words. Then she folded the paper, wrote Will’s name very clearly on the outside, and handed the letter to one of the servants, to be delivered the moment Wilrowan arrived.
Inside the berlin with Sir Bastian, Lili settled her hat, smoothed out her skirts, and tried to compose herself for the journey ahead. “I take it we are going in search of the Mountfalcon Jewel?”
“Yes, Lilliana. Your hour has truly arrived. No one but you, with your peculiar divining abilities, could hope to succeed at this important task.”
“But—I suppose we are not going out to look at random?”
“We are going to Fermouline in Chêneboix. Whether we go on from there remains to be seen.”
As the berlin rumbled toward the city gate, the old gentleman explained how the king had just received news of such curious behavior on the part of the mills and compasses. “It is a part of the world that had already attracted our attention before—not only because two of the conspirators involved in the theft were traced to Chetterly near the Chêneboix border, but because we had already received word of a fire, a riot, and a serious outbreak of disease, all within a twenty-mile radius of Fermouline. If the Chaos Machine is not in that city at this very moment, then I suspect it has recently passed through.”
He glanced across at Lili. “But you are the one who has established an affinity for the Jewel. When we arrive at our destination, you must be the one to tell me if the Chaos Machine is still in the vicinity.”
Lili sat staring down at the muddy toes of her shoes; in her haste, she had walked right through a puddle to reach the coach. “I left Hawkesbridge so suddenly; there can be little doubt that people will talk. I don’t want Papa and Aunt Allora to worry.”
“You need not concern yourself about that. A message in cipher has already been sent to your aunt, telling her everything.” His glance sharpened. “What excuse, may I ask, did you leave Captain Blackheart?”
Lili tried to remember, attempted to call up that hurried letter in her mind. “I told him—very little. I could hardly tell him where I was going, even had I wanted to. And I certainly didn’t mention my reasons for going.”
“That is what I would have expected. If we should chance to meet your husband later, you must continue to tell him as little as possible. In fact,” Sir Bastian added, “it would be far better if we never stopped to make any explanation at all.”
Blaise Trefallon was still in bed when Wilrowan burst into his rented lodgings. He had spent most of the night after the opera gaming at Silas Gant’s, returning to his chambers a little after sunrise. He had slept for several hours, was just sitting up in bed and beginning to think about breakfast, when the door of his room flew open and Will strode in, dressed for travel in jack-boots, doeskin trousers, and a long drab coat, nervously flicking a silver-handled riding crop in one white-knuckled hand.
“Trefallon,” he demanded without any preamble, “what have you done with my wife?”
Blaise rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and gave a gaping yawn. He was never at his best in the morning, before he spent that first crucial hour with his barber and valet. “I beg your pardon? What do you suppose I’ve done with your wife?”
Will waved a clenched fist. “Lili has disappeared. She rode off in a black berlin, taking a trunk full of clothes with her. The servants tell me they are certain there was a gentleman with her, but no one caught a glimpse of his face. As there is no other man I can even imagine Lili eloping with, I come to you and I ask again: What—have—you—done—with—my wife?”
Blaise threw back the covers and rose to his feet. He was a very different Trefallon, just now, from the elegant creature of the court and the drawing room, from the rakish habitué of the taverns and the gaming hells. Nevertheless, standing there in his night-shirt, with his fair hair disheveled, he was able to assume a certain amount of hauteur as he raised one arched eyebrow and asked:
“It does not occur to you, Wilrowan, that if I had eloped with anyone, I would not be here speaking with you now?”
“It occurs to me,” said Will, looking very white around the mouth, “that you might have taken her away and left her—somewhere—and doubled back here to allay my suspicions.”
“I see,” said Trefallon, his chin going up and a belligerent look coming into his eye. “You burst into my room at this ungodly hour, and inform me, firstly, that I am a vile seducer and have stolen your wife, and secondly, that I am undoubtedly a coward and a sneak.”
It might be difficult for a man to stand on his dignity while barefoot and in dire need of a shave, but Blaise was succeeding admirably. “I take leave to inform you, Captain Blackheart, that if I had any designs on your wife, I would never think of ruining her with an elopement. Instead, I would take the more honorable course of putting a sword or a bullet through your bastard heart, and then marrying your widow. I do trust I have made myself perfectly clear?”
Will made a mighty effort and swallowed his wrath. “I suppose that I owe you an apology,” he said, in a stifled voice.
“I should very well think that you do. But pray don’t offer one if it’s too much trouble. I had just as soon meet you as not, considering your insufferable—” Blaise stopped himself and stared at his friend, suddenly struck by Will’s tragic demeanor. “You really mean this! You sincerely believe that Lili has done this.”
“Yes,” said Will, collapsing in a chair. “And please don’t tell me how richly I deserve it. I know that as well as you do, and it only makes everything infinitely worse.”
“Yes,” said Blaise, reaching for the pair of nankeen breeches he had thrown over a chair a few hours earlier, beginning to put them on. “I feel certain it must. But this is ghastly, Will. Do you tell me she left without any explanation?”
Will shook his head bleakly. “An apology but no explanation. I have to get her back, Blaise. The truth is—I don’t think I can possibly live without her.”
Trefallon examined him thoughtfully. “I must confess, I’ve suspected something of the sort. How long have you known?” He pulled off his night-shirt and tossed it on the bed.
“That I love Lili?” Will gave a bitter laugh. “I can’t say how long. Almost from the very beginning, I think.”
Blaise shook his head in exasperation. “Sometimes I despair of you.” He crossed the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out a clean shirt. “If this is true, then why on earth did you never tell Lili?”
Will bent the riding crop in his hands until it seemed it must snap. “Because I was a coward. Even in so short a time, I had already—transgressed a dozen times, and I was afraid she would never be able to love me in return.”
At this point, Blaise surprised him with a shout of laughter. “My dear Blackheart, are you absolutely blind? If there is one thing I know, one thing I have become utterly certain of this last month, it’s that Lili loves you. I find it hard to believe she has real
ly run off with another man. Besides, who would she go with? She doesn’t really know any men but you and me and Nick and Rodaric, and you surely don’t suspect either of them.
“And, oh yes,” he added, as he went on dressing, “that civil old gentleman I saw her walking with, one day by the river.”
“Civil old gentleman?” Will’s eyebrows drew sharply together.
Blaise waved a hand. “I forget his name, if she ever mentioned it. Well past seventy and exceedingly avuncular. Besides, they were very well chaperoned, and by no less a personage than Sir Frederic Tregaron-Marlowe.”
This news had the unexpected effect of galvanizing Will. He had been sitting slumped and dejected in his chair; now he jerked erect. “Sir Frederic Marlowe?”
“Why yes,” Blaise answered coolly, as he knotted his fringed neckcloth. “Did you ever attend any of his lectures? I did, and he was the most prolix old—Why do you look at me that way? Undoubtedly Marlowe and the other man were friends of Miss Brakeburn, paying a duty call on her great-niece.”
Will settled back into his chair. “Of course.”
“I feel very certain,” Trefallon went on, “that if Lili is truly gone, she must be going home to Brakeburn Hall, to nurse her wounded feelings.”
“But why?” said Will, continuing to look both ill and bewildered. “Last night—I thought—I swear to you, Blaise, everything was different. And if she was only going home, why didn’t she say so in her letter?”
Blaise shrugged. “I don’t pretend to know what happened between the two of you last night. But I do know what Lili has been feeling this last month.” He pulled back his hair and tied it up at the nape of his neck with a brown silk ribbon. “If she didn’t write to say she was going to Brakeburn, it was probably because she thought it might sound like an invitation to follow her. She does have some pride, you know. And you have treated her abominably.”
“I don’t dispute that,” said Will, wearily. “But not, I tell you, last night. I told her everything I had been feeling for so many years and we—we settled everything between us.”
The Queen's Necklace Page 36
