“Thank you for the invitation, my lord.”
“You are most welcome.” He poured himself a glass of wine. “Are you sure you won’t have a drink?”
She shook her head at the wine glass he offered.
Devon swirled the liquid in his glass and took a sip. “I must admit I half expected you to cry off at the last minute. You’ve already surprised me.” He winked at her.
“I may be frightened of spiders, my lord, but I am not such a coward as that.”
“I shall give you much more credit next time.”
The air was chilly. Lily shook a little. Devon moved closer, and this time, she shivered for an entirely different reason.
She gave him a saucy smile. One she had perfected of late. “What makes you think there will be a next time?”
Devon took Lily’s hand and led her out to the terrace where a lovely candlelit meal was prepared. There was a table replete with a round, white tablecloth, fine china, wine glasses, silver cutlery, and tiny sparkling candles everywhere. She slid into the midnight-blue velvet upholstered chair he pulled out for her, and took a shaky sip from her water glass, wishing for the first time in her entire life that it was wine.
The evening was cool and clear, a perfect night for a romantic dinner in the garden. She sighed. Of course it was perfect. Colton was a master of seduction.
While the first course was served by two dapper-looking, matched footmen in full livery, Devon poured himself more wine.
“So, tell me,” he began. “Why don’t you drink?”
She shrugged. “I have my reasons.”
“And those reasons are?”
“My own.”
“Surely the woman who has the nerve to write Secrets of a Wedding Night cannot be so religious as to refuse a glass of wine.”
Lily shook her head. “Religion has nothing to do with it. And I’ve never admitted to writing Secrets of a Wedding Night.”
He smiled. “Why the intense dislike for alcohol then?”
Lily stared him straight in the eye. “If you must know, my father drank far too much. He couldn’t stop. He made many bad decisions. As a result, I’ve always detested the stuff.”
“Ah, then we have that in common,” Devon replied. “Drunken fathers, that is. However, I’ve managed to persevere and develop a fondness for spirits myself.”
Lily took a bite of sautéed apples. “Unfortunately, your fondness for spirits is well known.” Drat. Had the regret in her voice been obvious?
Devon was quiet for a few moments, eyeing her in a way that made her insides quake with anticipation. “Who was that man leaving your house this morning when I arrived?”
Confound it! The apples slipped down her throat, nearly choking her. She took a long drink of water.
“What man?” she finally asked in her most nonchalant voice.
“The man you escorted out the side door. I saw him leaving from the front window.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “Why, Colton, I never took you for the jealous sort.”
His eyes became slants, examining her. “I’m never jealous. I’m merely asking a question.”
She took another sip of water. What would Devon say if she told him the truth? “You probably wouldn’t believe me.”
He speared a bit of stuffed guinea hen with his fork. “Try me. I might surprise you.”
She wiped her mouth with her napkin, her decision made. “Very well. What if I told you…?” She leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “The man you saw was a creditor.” She kept her eyes trained on his face. Was it her imagination or did it fall? No, his face gave no hint of his feelings.
Lily waited. Devon’s fork would clatter to his plate any second now.
His eyes remained narrowed on her. “Everyone in the ton knows Merrill left a great fortune. The odds are much higher the man was a suitor, not a creditor.”
Devon hadn’t surprised her at all. Should she be relieved or depressed?
Merrill left a great fortune to be sure, but none of it had come to her. His nephew inherited the bulk of the estate. And while the terms of her marriage contract stipulated that she should receive a sizable dower, her former husband’s nephew gave her a stipend of no more than ten pounds per annum. There was little she could do about it. Without a nobleman to back her in the courts, she had very little recourse, and she would die of shame before admitting her sad plight to Medford.
Of course the new earl realized she couldn’t possibly live on the small amount he’d given her. He’d told her on more than one occasion that she was young and comely enough to remarry and that’s what she should do. It was only due to the new earl’s good graces that she’d been allowed to remain in the town house in London as long as she had. The earl much preferred the countryside, thank goodness. But he’d written letters of late intimating that he and his wife might be coming to town soon. It was only a matter of time before Lily and her ragtag little household were put out on the streets.
Lily kept her gaze trained on her plate. She’d tried to tell Devon the truth. What more could she do? “This meal is delightful,” she said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s nice to take a break from planning Annie’s debut.”
“Ah, yes,” Devon replied. “How are the plans coming?”
“I’ve already presented her at court to the queen and the princesses. All that’s left is her ball. It’s all arranged for tomorrow night. Medford has seen to everything.”
“Yes, as to that, I can scarcely believe he invited me.”
Lily’s head snapped up. “Medford invited you?”
“I was surprised as well.”
Lily turned her attention back to her plate. “I hate to disappoint you, but his secretary saw to the guest list, I assume he doesn’t even know.”
“Ah, and here I was hoping you’d asked him to invite me.”
She shook her head and smiled at him. “The entire ton is invited, Devon. I want my sister’s debut to be a smashing success. Annie has been looking forward to this for a very long time.”
“I’ve no doubt she has, the little imp.”
She glanced at him. “Will you be there?” She cursed herself for asking the question.
He shrugged and gave her a wicked grin. “If the whole ton will be there, how could I miss it?”
She sighed, and did her best to ignore the surge of happiness that welled in her chest at the news that he planned to attend. “Annie is overly excited about tomorrow night. And I fear I will be forced to beat the young men away from her afterward.”
Devon poured himself more wine from the decanter. “She doesn’t share your concerns about marriage, I gather?”
“Not a bit.”
“I hate to ask the obvious, but haven’t you sat her down in front of your…” He cleared his throat. “The pamphlet?”
She gave him a sly look. “No, she hasn’t read that particular bit of writing yet.”
“High time?”
“You don’t think I’ve offered?” Lily mumbled. “The worst part is, she’s already half in love—or so she thinks—with Arthur Eggleston.”
Devon inclined his head. “Perhaps you’re learning you cannot stop biology, Lily.”
“I just want to make Annie understand that marriage isn’t all it’s purported to be.”
He searched her face. “You know what I think?”
“No. What?” She eyed him cautiously, sitting forward in her chair, and folding her hands together.
“I think you don’t drink because you’re very used to being in control. And you don’t like it one bit when you’re not. The pamphlet, your ice queen persona, and now trying to keep your sister from growing up. It’s more about you than her.”
Lily flinched as if he’d struck her. She opened her mouth to issue the denial that sprang to her lips, but promptly snapped it shut again. The truth was, the man was perceptive. Too perceptive. And she didn’t like it one bit.
She waited a few moments before she
spoke. “Is there anything so very noteworthy about being out of control?”
He took a long drink from his wine glass. “Yes, in fact. I highly recommend it. You must try it sometime and find out.”
Lily braced her elbows on the table. If they were passing out opinions, she intended to have her say. “You know what I think?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Please. Enlighten me.”
“You take perverse pleasure in your reputation as a gambler and a drinker. You’re looking to take the easy way in life, and instead of being responsible, you plan to marry a rich woman to solve your problems.”
Devon stiffened. He drained his glass before meeting her eyes. “Your opinion of me is that low?”
She inclined her head. “You forget. I’ve known you for five years.”
His voice was even. “No. You knew me five years ago.”
“Do you deny that you drink? Do you deny that you gamble? Do you deny that you were betrothed to Miss Templeton and she is quite wealthy?”
He cracked a grin but it held no humor. “I’m drinking at present. I was gambling two nights ago, and Miss Templeton’s dowry was positively indecent.”
Lily shrugged, trying to dispel a vague feeling of guilt for being so direct. She shouldn’t be judging him so. The man had never pretended to be anything other than what he was. Well, not recently at least. She’d do well to remember at all times how infinitely unsuitable he was. He’d tossed away one thousand pounds on a game of chance as if it meant nothing. She shouldn’t have been so accusatory, however. It was his money, his affair. But still, he had started it with his detestable comment about how controlling she was.
“Let’s just agree that we are both quite opposite, you and I. We will not try to persuade each other to see things differently. Do we have a truce?”
Devon traced the pattern of a figure eight on the tablecloth. He nodded. “Truce.”
For the remainder of the meal, they managed to keep the discussion focused on lighthearted topics and pleasant banter mostly involving Bandit’s antics as the newest member of Lily’s household. After the last course was served and the plates cleared away, Devon rose and offered Lily his arm. “I want to show you something inside,” he said, covering her hand with his. A tingle shot up Lily’s spine.
They entered the house again and walked through the polished wooden hallways to the man staircase. Devon began to mount the stairs. Lily stopped, pulling back, she narrowed her eyes on him.
“Where exactly are you going?” She snatched her arm away.
He cracked a smile and the boyish charm of it made butterflies scatter in Lily’s stomach.
“It’s just upstairs at the end of the hallway. It’s a painting. You’ll like it.”
Still, she hesitated, biting her lip. “Is your bedchamber up there?”
Another small smile. “It is.”
“Near the painting?”
He grabbed up her hand again, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “Honestly, Lily, if that’s what you’re worried about, I’ll have the servants bring the painting down to us.” He called out and within moments two footmen appeared in the foyer. Devon issued instructions for them to bring the painting downstairs, but Lily’s hand on his sleeve stopped him.
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll go up and see it,” she said softly, somewhat embarrassed by the display. “It would be silly to have them bring it all the way down here.” Besides, she was somewhat curious to see what a notorious rake’s bedchamber looked like.
Devon nodded once and, with a simple hand gesture, promptly dispatched both footmen.
“This way,” he said, taking her hand again and leading her upstairs.
At the landing, they turned to the right and walked along a long row of polished wooden doors.
Devon guided her along. They stopped at the end of the hallway in front of a large portrait of a gorgeous, regal-looking woman. Her dark hair and eyes and perfect nose marked her as Devon’s ancestor.
“My great-grandmother,” he said, gesturing toward the portrait.
“She is beautiful,” Lily breathed, staring up at the painting in awe, wondering if anyone would ever paint such a masterpiece with her as the subject one day. No, she decided. She would not be the grand lady of a grand house, and even if she was, she was not half as lovely as the woman whose kind chocolate-colored eyes looked down at her now.
“I thought you’d like it,” Devon said, “because of the dogs.”
Lily stepped back and looked again. She blinked. This time, she saw them. There were dogs in the picture. Four of them, by her count. One hid under the lady’s feet, partially obscured by her skirt. One lay in the corner, soundly asleep. One nestled on the back of the settee just over the lady’s shoulder, and the fourth was peering out of the side of the picture as if he’d been barely captured for all eternity, paying a fleeting visit.
“Oh, how adorable. How wonderful!” Lily exclaimed, taking in the expression on each animal’s face. “Your grandmother loved dogs.”
“Yes.” Devon smiled. “I suppose I can credit her with my sudden desire to save Bandit last night.”
Lily touched his sleeve. “You’re a nice man, Devon. Only an ogre would allow a puppy to fend for itself on the streets of London.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know how nice I am, but I’m no ogre. I suppose my grandmother would like to know that much, at least.”
“I believe people who are kind to animals show their true natures. And the reverse is also true.”
“My grandmother had a brooch resembling one of these dogs,” he said. “I still have it.”
“A brooch?”
“Yes, made out of diamonds, if I remember correctly. It was a gift from my grandfather.”
“I should love to see it,” Lily said.
Devon’s hands had fallen away from her and were shoved in his pockets. “It’s in the bedchamber,” he admitted with a charming grin. “I’d be happy to show it to you if you’d like. I’ll even promise to keep my hands in my pockets the entire time.”
She laughed. “If you do that, how will you retrieve the brooch?”
“Hmm. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Very well. I’ll keep my hands in my pockets until I retrieve the brooch, then I’ll put them right back. I promise. Or I can bring it—”
“Is this your bedchamber?” Lily pushed open the door to her immediate left. Somehow she knew instinctively she had the correct door.
“Yes,” he answered softly, following her inside.
His bedchamber was astonishing. That was the only word that came to mind. It must have taken up the entire back half of the house. There was a sitting area with books and a large fireplace with a portrait of Devon as a young boy with an older man who looked just like him. “My father,” he said at Lily’s questioning stare.
The bed itself was covered in midnight-blue satin and fluffy, down pillows. Raised on a dais, it took up the back half of the large room. Good heavens. Devon could give her a few tips on living a life well beyond one’s means. She was in need of such lessons of late, was she not?
Lily stopped about three paces in front of the bed, staring at it. She couldn’t help but wonder what sort of pleasures other women had there in Devon’s arms. That thought made her melancholy, but the fact that she was here with him now made her shiver.
Devon disappeared into an antechamber. Lily strode over to the bedside table where a letter sat, half folded. She picked it up. “Progress Report for Master Justin,” the heading stated. Who was Master Justin?
Devon made a noise in the antechamber and Lily dropped the paper. She shouldn’t have looked at it. Couldn’t even decide exactly why she had. She bit her lip; the urge to ask Devon who Justin was nearly overwhelmed her, but then he’d know she’d been looking at his correspondence. And it was none of her affair, of course.
Devon shuffled around for a few moments longer before he reappeared and joined her next to the bed. He held the diamond brooch in the shape of the
dog in his left hand.
“Here it is.” He slid it into Lily’s palm.
She eyed the delicate piece of jewelry with reverence, turning it over carefully, examining the gold filigree with her fingertip. “Ah, it’s lovely. Your grandfather had fine taste.”
“I always thought it impractical,” Devon admitted. “But by all accounts my great-grandfather loved my great-grandmother to distraction. I’m not surprised he commissioned such a piece.”
“I’m sure she treasured it.” Lily handed the brooch back to him and nearly jumped at the spark that ignited along her nerves at the touch of his hand.
* * *
Devon’s gaze slid from the bed, where he couldn’t help but imagine doing all sorts of things to the beautiful woman standing next to him. Lily’s jasmine-scented hair was driving him insane and she was so sweet and pretty tonight. He ached for her. It had been a long time—too long—since he’d been with a woman. But Lily standing here, in his bedchamber, this close, torturously close, to his bed was making him feel every single day of his self-imposed celibacy. He swallowed hard.
Something about her trusting him, her coming into his bedchamber. He couldn’t betray her trust and seduce her. Not like this. Not tonight. He had to get her out of here. And quickly.
“I’ll meet you in the hallway,” he said. “Let me just put this away.” He disappeared into the antechamber again.
When Devon emerged from the other room, he headed toward the bedchamber door. He stopped short, his mouth going immediately dry. Lily sat on his bed, her skirts spread around her, her comely ankles showing, and her slippers kicked to the rug underneath.
He cleared his throat but didn’t dare speak.
“Surprised?” she asked.
“I might use that word.” He took two steps toward her, then stopped.
“Do not tell me I’ve rendered you speechless, my lord,” she said with a throaty laugh that made Devon’s groin tighten.
“It is rare, I admit.” He took one more step. “Lily, I don’t think—”
“Nor should you,” she breathed. “This is not a night for thinking. What’s the trouble, Devon? Don’t you want to kiss me?”
Secrets of a Wedding Night Page 11
