Actually, she looked exquisite.
“I’ll take Laura Beth.”
“No, you’re sick. I’ll call Mrs. Allgood to dress her.”
“No, I’m not really sick. It’s just that—” Her voice dropped off like a stone from a cliff.
“Your tummy hurts—at least that’s what Laura Beth told me.”
Lily turned mute with embarrassment.
“Mama said it was just her woman’s tummy,” Laura Beth said in a confiding voice to Knight.
Lily closed her eyes. She was beyond embarrassment. If she’d had Laura Beth’s throat between her hands, she would have wrung it.
Knight said, all business, “Lily, go back to your bedchamber. Now. Go.”
Lily fled.
“As for you, you remarkable child, I’m giving you over to Mrs. Allgood. No, you’re not going to wash me. You behave yourself, do you understand?”
Laura Beth, her face as guileless as an angel’s, nodded, and Knight, having seen that look before, groaned.
Six
Knight stretched his legs out to the fire, cupped his brandy snifter between his hands, and leaned back in his exquisitely comfortable chair. He remained that way for perhaps a minute. But it wasn’t the same. Not at all the way it had been before Lily’s arrival, hers and the children’s. He sighed, hoping she felt better, knowing, of course, that she felt just fine again, since her malady wasn’t in truth a malady.
He’d seen Lily only in passing for the past three days now. She was obviously avoiding him, and he supposed he couldn’t blame her. She’d seen him half naked in his bedchamber, and Laura Beth had embarrassed her to the roots of her glorious hair.
To spare her, he’d eaten dinner at his club for the past three evenings, then spent the majority of the nights out. He hadn’t visited Daniella, which was excessively odd of him, he thought in stray moments, but he had won five hundred pounds from Davey Cochrane at whist in the card room at White’s. Just as he’d expected, several of his friends had tortured him mercilessly about his newly acquired family. He’d found himself merely smiling, the memory of Laura Beth’s wriggling little body clear in his mind. He’d played peekaboo with a damned little girl. It made him smile even now to think about it. As for all the ink-covered papers on his desk, well, poor old Trump hadn’t been completely delighted to recopy them, but he’d set himself to it sharply. The papers Tilney had needed had been duly delivered to his office. Now it was just a matter of time and proper palm-greasing before the children were Knight’s legal wards.
He started to rise. It was early afternoon and he must be on his way to Tattersall’s. Old Baron Setherly was selling up, and there was a magnificent black Barb amongst his cattle that Knight wanted to look over. He heard the library door open quietly. Lily? He eased back down in his chair. His body tensed and he felt something insidiously warm and wonderful spread from his toes to his ears.
He said not a word. He didn’t move. Slowly, he looked around the side wing of his leather chair. There was Theo walking—no, creeping, on his tiptoes—across the expanse of Aubusson carpet to the long wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He watched the boy. He realized that Theo was thinner than a nine-year-old should be, and he was pale. As Knight looked at him, he found himself seeing more and more of Tris in him—the tilt of his head, the fine, aquiline nose, the stubborn chin. Why the devil was the boy skulking about?
Theo was terrified. He didn’t know if the viscount was home or not. He hadn’t been for the longest time, but the house was Cousin Knight’s and he could be anywhere. Lily had told them all so earnestly to keep out of the viscount’s way and he’d known she was worried, particularly after Laura Beth had dumped ink all over his desk and papers and himself. Theo looked furtively about, then climbed the ladder to fetch the book he wanted from the second-to-top shelf. It was a black leather volume on the remarkable properties of the ancient omaya root, written by an obscure monk from northern Italy sometime during the sixteenth century. It was old and delicate, and Theo held it as carefully as he would Lily’s favorite broach, a heart-shaped amethyst that had belonged to her mother.
“Theo.”
The quiet voice from behind him made him gasp with alarm. His grip on the valuable old book loosened and he watched in horror as it dropped to the floor. The ancient binding split apart and several sections flopped out. Theo closed his eyes and swayed. He wanted to die.
“Sir,” he managed to say finally. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry—oh, no!” Theo twisted about on the ladder, saw the carnage, knew he’d see it until the day he died, and lost his hold.
Knight, startled to his boots, was nonetheless swift of reflex and managed to catch him in midflight. The boy’s momentum sent them both to the floor, but Knight held him firmly, cushioning his fall with his own body.
Theo struggled to be free, his voice catching on sobs.
Knight immediately came up on his knees over the boy and quickly examined his arms and legs. He could find no broken bones, but that didn’t mean Theo wasn’t hurt internally. He grasped his shoulders, shook him slightly so that he would look at him, and pulled him to his knees. “Are you all right, Theo? You’re not hurting anywhere?”
Theo dashed away the damnable tears and shook his head, afraid to speak.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, sir,” Theo said in the thinnest voice Knight had ever heard.
“Good,” Knight said briskly, felt his heart stop its terrified pounding, and rose, offering his hand to Theo.
Theo wanted to sink quickly and quietly through the floor and land squarely in hell.
“Come along, my boy.”
The viscount took Theo’s hand and gently jerked him to his feet. “You look none the worse for your adventure. I escaped as well. I’m sorry I scared you.”
Theo stared up at him. The viscount was apologizing? It was too much. He shook his head stubbornly and knew the truth must come out. “Sir, I destroyed your book.” There, he had admitted it. Now he waited for the viscount to see the destruction and turn on him, which was nothing more than he deserved.
Knight frowned down at the bent head. What book? He saw the old volume lying on the floor and said, “What the hell is that? I don’t even recognize it.”
“It’s a first edition.”
“It is, huh? Well, it must be deadly dull, for I’ve never read it.”
“Oh, no, sir. It’s all about this strange root that can cure all sorts of wicked diseases and—”
Knight grinned, relieved at the renewed animation. “In that case, let’s put it back together—there’s a bookbinder I know on Court Street. He can fix anything, even ancient tomes on miraculous roots. Should you like to come with me, Theo?”
“Oh, yes, sir, and I—I’ll pay for it, sir.”
“All right,” Knight said easily. “Tell you what, why don’t we ride there?”
The change in the boy was remarkable. Before Knight’s fascinated gaze, Theo lost all claim to stooped shoulders, his eyes—not at all like Tris’s—glittered with excitement, and he looked ready to burst the seams on his coat with excitement. Then, just as suddenly, the light left his eyes, and he looked ready to cry again.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you ride?”
“I did something very bad,” Theo said. “You can’t reward me. You should punish me. I truly deserve it, sir.”
“You dropped a damned book because I startled you. It is nothing. Less than nothing. Now, cease your recriminations—I do find them excessively tedious, Theo—and go get on your riding clothes. All right?”
Theo gave him the hopeful look of a child who knew he hadn’t heard aright. He was waiting for the correction and the proverbial blows to strike.
“Theo, I’m becoming very impatient with you. You have fifteen minutes, not an instant more. Do ask your mother’s permission, all right?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
There was a thoughtful look on Knight’s face as he watched the boy dash from the library. H
e leaned down and gathered up the book. “Dreadful-looking thing,” he said to himself, stuffing the separate hunks of pages back into the broken binding. “The only reason it’s a first edition is because no one wanted a second, except perhaps for the monk’s mother.”
As he waited for Theo, Knight decided he’d first take the boy with him to Tattersall’s; then they’d go to Mr. Milligan’s shop on Court Street. He wondered if the boy had any money to pay for the repair of the book. He doubted that he did. Now he had set himself a problem. Talk about proud—he could imagine Theo’s reaction if he, Knight, paid for the repairs. What to do?
And then he knew. Knight smiled and strode out of the library, whistling and quite properly proud of himself. He strode right into Lily.
“My God, are you all right?” He grabbed her arms, dropping the book and further demolishing the binding.
“Yes, certainly.”
He released her, shaking his head in some amusement. “I seem to be bringing everyone low today.”
She merely smiled at him, and it was enough to make him want to instantly throw her down on the entrance-hall floor, very gently, that is, and have his way with her.
“Where’s Theo?” he asked, unable to look away from her. She was still smiling, though it wobbled a bit from the strange look on his face.
“He—he’s changing his clothes. I wanted to thank you, Knight. I haven’t seen him so excited about anything since—well, since before his father’s death. You’re very kind.”
Now he frowned down at her. She was as pale as Theo. Had they all remained indoors since the day at the Pantheon Bazaar? He said abruptly, “Go upstairs and change. You do ride, don’t you? Of course you do. You’ll come with me and Theo.”
He saw a leap of excitement in her eyes at the proffered treat, then it was gone. “That is a wonderful offer, but I must stay with the children. You know Sam—if he isn’t watched, he could do the most dreadful thing. Oh, I forgot to tell you. He apologized to Betty about the bread-dough railing. She called him an ‘awful little tadpole’ but did forgive him finally.”
“Excellent,” Knight said, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was thinking. He realized he shouldn’t dilute Theo’s outing with him by bringing along the other children. He didn’t want to say it, but he forced himself to. “You’re right. You must remain with the children—to protect my house and all its denizens. As for Theo, don’t worry about him. We’ll be gone for several hours. Does he ride well?”
“Yes, his father taught him ages ago. He has light hands. Of course, he hasn’t ridden in the past couple of months—”
“It isn’t a problem. I’ve a hack in the stable that will suit him nicely. Oh, Lily?”
“Yes?”
“Will you be dining with me this evening?”
His voice was gentle and Lily felt something skitter over every covered and uncovered patch of flesh on her body. “If you wish,” she said and saw him at that moment naked to the waist, wrestling with Laura Beth in the tub. She heard his laughter, saw him lift Laura Beth high in his arms and wrap her in the huge towel.
“I do wish. Don’t worry about Theo. I’ll take good care of him.”
“I know you will.”
“Did he, ah, say anything to you about what happened?” This he asked in a carefully neutral voice.
“Yes, he did. Theo is painfully honest. He asked me if I thought it was all right for him to have so much fun when he’d been so wicked.”
“Wicked? For God’s sake, he dropped a stupid book.” Knight pointed to the dilapidated specimen at his feet. “This is the book he’s so distraught about—I doubt it’s worth the paper it was written on.” He leaned down and picked up the book.
“Theo takes things seriously, including any lack he sees in himself. He did damage something that belonged to you. But I told him that keeping you company would be his good deed for the day.”
“You what?” Knight gave a shout of laughter. “What a master stroke, Lily. Well done. Now, I don’t imagine that the boy has any money, and—”
“I gave him five shillings.”
Knight cursed and Lily stared.
“Forgive me, but I wish you hadn’t done so. I wanted to lend him the money and then let him work it off. He needs his own money, even if it’s only a few shillings a week.”
Lily couldn’t believe this. He hadn’t wanted to box Sam’s ears for the bread-dough debacle, he’d laughed over Laura Beth’s ink devastation and even bathed the child himself, and now he was thinking about what to do for dear Theo.
To her utter horror, and for the first time since the night of Tris’s death, Lily burst into tears.
Knight was appalled. Tears because he’d said Theo needed a few shillings a week? It would be the most natural thing in the world to pull her into his arms and press her face against his shoulder. It would be even more natural to whisper soothing absurdities to her and lightly stroke his hands over her back. And it was the most pleasant feeling to breathe in her subtle scent. Was it jasmine or perhaps lavender? Or maybe just Lily herself—
“You—you unwoman me,” she whispered against his shoulder, and her fingers clutched at his jacket lapels.
“Unwoman? Now, that is a new word and concept for me. I think I like the sound of it.” He was pleased that he could speak so lightly and that his voice actually sounded teasing.
She gave a somewhat watery laugh.
“What are you doing, sir?”
“Oh, dear,” Knight said and gently pushed Lily away from him. “Your protector, my dear, his fists at the ready.” He grinned up at the ferocious-looking Sam, who was standing on the bottom stair, his sturdy legs planted wide apart, his fists on his hips.
“Well, sir?”
“Well, nothing, Sam. Put your fists back into your pockets and stop calling me ‘sir.’ I’m your cousin Knight. Now, your mother was crying because she didn’t have any bread for her breakfast.”
“But I did, Cousin Knight.”
“You had very old bread. My cook, Cuthbert, you know, well, he’s leery about making more, because a little boy who lives here doesn’t know that bread goes into the belly and not on a stair railing.”
Sam fell against the railing, he was giggling so hard, and Lily laughed, a clear sweet sound that made Knight so randy he wanted to howl.
“You’re the most complete hand, sir,” Sam said between giggles.
“Don’t you forget it, my boy. Ah, here’s Theo. Looking smart, my lad. And Laura Beth not far behind. How are you, snippet?”
“I want another bath,” said Laura Beth past the thumb in her mouth. “And we’ll play towel again.”
“Laura Beth,” Theo said, horrified.
“It’s peekaboo,” said Sam with disgust.
“Perhaps in a few days,” Knight said easily. “I must first recover from our initial bout. You very nearly drowned me.”
Laura Beth giggled, and Knight felt the urge to swing her up into his arms and kiss her pink cheeks. Instead he grinned over at the hopeful-looking Sam and said gently, “No, Sam, you can’t go with us today. Pick up your lower lip and don’t sulk. Boys don’t sulk. We’ll all go on a picnic to Richmond next week, all right?”
“What’s Richmond?” asked Laura Beth.
“Silly gudgeon, it’s a place that’s pretty and has spots for picnics.”
“Excellent description, Theo,” Lily said.
“Now, Theo, we’re off. Your mother told you, I hear, that it is your duty to keep me company this afternoon. Sam, Laura Beth, mind your mother and don’t destroy the house—”
“Or its danzans,” Laura Beth added.
“Denizens,” Theo said.
“Exactly,” Knight said. “Lily, I’ll see you for dinner.”
“If you wish it.”
“I most assuredly do.”
Lily nodded to Charlie, the first footman, and he deftly refilled her wineglass with the sweet bordeaux.
“This is the best wine I’ve ever tasted
,” she said, smiling at her host. He looked exceedingly handsome in his black evening garb. Ever since she’d seen him in his bedchamber, in only his breeches and absolutely nothing else, she couldn’t seem not to see him as a man now, a very handsome man at that.
“My father was quite the spirits connoisseur,” Knight explained. “He passed on a bit of his knowledge to me. I’m delighted you like tonight’s choice. Incidentally, you look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you.”
Her voice was light, disbelieving. It wasn’t an act. It struck him again that she didn’t know how instantly delicious she was to the male eye. She thought he was merely indulging in masculine flattery. It was disconcerting. Actually, he’d had his usual reaction when she’d come into the drawing room earlier. Her gown was modest by London standards, but the color of soft peach made her skin glow, her hair seem more lustrous; in short, just looking at her made his muscles go into spasm.
He said abruptly, “You haven’t worn mourning for Tris.”
She paled but answered in her composed voice. “No. There wasn’t time, and I didn’t want to spend our money on unnecessary things.” Her chin went into the air—a small act of defiance.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s none of my affair. Now, back to our Theo. He’s a bruising rider. He needs a more spirited horse than poor old Bruno. Wicket would be just the horse for him, I think.”
“Knight, please, you mustn’t let him ride one of your best horses. Really—”
“Be quiet, Lily, and try a bit of the crimped cod and oyster sauce. I shall do exactly as I please, contrive to remember that. Now, after we left Tattersall’s—oh, yes, Theo is quite a good judge of horseflesh—we went to the bookbinder’s. I was all for throwing that dashed old tome into the Thames, but Theo, well, he was still indulging in a complete attack of conscience.”
“Did he have enough money?”
Knight briefly considered lying to her. But he couldn’t. Theo didn’t lie, so she would find out. “No,” Knight said easily. “It was an interesting situation there for a while.” He fell silent, remembering the look on the boy’s face. There had been chagrin, but most of all fear, and that had smitten Knight as nothing else ever had in his benighted years.
Night Shadow Page 9
