“He looked as if he had not slept in days. I admit to being intrigued with what would be keeping a rogue such as Greybourne awake, and do you know, I do believe he’s in love!”
Lilias thought she might swoon. The room seemed to be spinning as Guinevere continued. “Isn’t it funny that you both found love. You with Owen and Greybourne with some mystery woman, whom I heard him refer to as Lady L.” Guinevere eyed her silently, expectantly.
Lilias swallowed, but her mouth was so very dry, as were her eyes. Crying for three straight days would do that, she supposed. She wanted to tell her best friend everything, but how did one confess they were in love with one man and betrothed to another? How did one confess that their character was so weak that they’d been contemplating for three straight days just how horrid it would be to break off her engagement and had barely managed to push the selfish thought away each time? Because even if she did break off her betrothal, she could not guarantee that Nash would be as dishonorable as she was, and if he would not have her, that left her mother and sister—and her, though she hardly cared about that—near homeless and poverty stricken. Never mind that she would hurt Owen and he would hate her.
“Isn’t that terribly funny?” Guinevere persisted, looking wide-eyed and innocent.
“It’s hilarious,” Lilias choked out.
“I also find it funny that you have not come to see me once to tell me personally of your betrothal to Owen. I had to read it in the scandal sheet.”
“I…I have been busy.”
Guinevere’s eyebrows arched high. “Too busy to share the happy news with your best friend that you are marrying the man you now love?”
Guinevere had not said outright that Lilias was a liar, but her tone and expression implied it. And of course Guinevere knew! She was her best friend!
“I happened to overhear Greybourne tell Asher that this woman, Lady L—” Guinevere paused “—was in desperate need, and he would do anything in his power to aid her. He was there to ask Asher to help him with some task, I think in regard to her, but I could not hear what.”
Lilias swallowed. Nash likely wanted Carrington to ensure she did not go on any missions alone as she had promised him. She wondered if she’d look out her window tonight to find Greybourne or someone he’d hired guarding her from below.
Guinevere looked contemplative for a moment. “Maybe he loves this Lady L and he doesn’t think she’ll have him.”
“Did he say that?” Lilias asked miserably. “Did he say he loved me?” She no longer cared. Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
“Oh, dearest,” Guinevere murmured, then scooted forward and pulled Lilias into a hug. “He didn’t have to say the words. It’s painted on his face with the dark smudges under his eyes, the dark stubble, and the mussed hair. It’s in the wrinkled clothing he’s wearing, as if he cannot even be bothered to change. And it’s in his words, which sound filled with agony… Will you not tell me what is happening? Will you not let me try to help?”
Lilias pulled back and swiped at her tears. “You cannot help,” she whispered. And then she told Guinevere of the manuscript, Mr. Levine, the trip to the Orcus Society, and of her and Nash and all they had said to each other.
Guinevere shook her head slowly, smugly. “I knew that man loved you the moment I saw him at my ball!”
Lilias smiled weakly at her friend. Guinevere did so love to be right.
“Even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter. I’m betrothed to Owen. I gave my word, and even if I had not, I must wed him. I cannot risk my mother’s and my sister’s futures to follow my heart when I do not even know if Nash would follow his.”
“I surmised that, too,” Guinevere pronounced, then gave Lilias a pat on the hand and a squeeze. “You are wedding because of finances, aren’t you?”
Lilias nodded and then quickly told Guinevere all Lilias had learned about her mother’s trips to Bath and the true state of her family’s situation. “I must wed Owen,” Lilias said, hating herself for even saying such a thing. “And I do not believe Nash would, in fact, make me his wife, even if I were no longer betrothed. There are things in his past that make him feel guilty, make him feel as if being with me would be a betrayal to Owen, and I don’t think he could live with that.”
“Tell me. Perhaps I can help?”
“You can’t change his mind, Guinevere.”
Guinevere smiled. “Perhaps Asher could?”
“I don’t think so. It’s a matter of honor, and I do believe penance. Anyway—” she plucked at a loose thread on her coverlet “—I would not want Nash to ever think I betrayed his confidence by telling you his secrets, and then you, in turn, telling your husband.”
“Fine,” Guinevere replied. “Let us forget Nash for a moment. Let us speak of you and Blackwood and your financial coil.”
Lilias felt incredibly tired again. It was all too much to even think about. She tried to lie back once more, but Guinevere caught her by the wrist. “If you had not discovered the true severity of your family’s financial problems, would you have said yes to Blackwood even after being discovered in his arms at the ball? And by the by, why did you kiss him?”
“What?” Lilias jerked all the way upright. “I did not kiss Owen. He kissed me!”
Guinevere’s brow furrowed. “I vow I heard Greybourne muttering to himself as he was leaving our house, and it sounded as if he said, ‘Why did she kiss Owen if she did not care for him? Why?’”
“Why would he think that?” she asked, breathing in shallow, quick breaths to calm her now roiling stomach.
“Well,” Guinevere said, “my astounding powers of deduction lead me to conclude that Blackwood likely told Greybourne as much.”
“No,” she whispered, a fiery knot of anger pulsing to life within her. “He wouldn’t.”
“Darling, he has confessed to loving you forever. I think he would.”
“But he knew… He knew I loved Nash.”
Guinevere nodded. “Yes, and he did whatever he had to in order to ensure you were his. That is unforgivable in my humble opinion.”
It was more than unforgivable. Lilias was shaking with betrayal and rage. “I cannot wed him! I cannot. But how can I not? Where will Mama, Nora, and I even live? Where—”
Guinevere took Lilias’s hands. “Hush. Do you think I would let you go under? Asher and I will provide you, your mother, and sister a place to live. We will ensure the debts are paid to the ruffians who dare threaten you and your family!”
“No.” Lilias shook her head. “I cannot take your charity.”
“Fine. A loan, then.”
“I cannot take a loan without some way to pay you back.”
“Fine,” Guinevere huffed. “We will find you employment and then discuss a loan.”
Lilias needed to speak to her mother, but how on earth could she tell Mama that she wanted to call off her betrothal and cast them all into scandal and peril? “Guinevere, are you certain Carrington would allow us to stay at one of his homes? Just until I find employment, mind you.”
“I’m certain. Does this mean you’re going to break the betrothal?”
Lilias bit her lip. “I… Well, I think so, but I must talk to my mother. If she becomes too upset, if she is too fearful for me to do it, I don’t know what I shall do. I don’t know how I could live with myself if I cast my family into a worse position against my mother’s will, and I don’t know how I can hurt Nora’s future so.” Lilias wrung her hands. “But I cannot wed Owen. Not now.” She bit her lip. “I should have never relented. I’m so, so livid with him for doing what he did!”
Guinevere hugged her. “Break the betrothal. I feel certain that your future will work itself out.”
“Is it done?” Asher asked Guinevere the moment she entered their bedchamber later that night.
Guinevere had to force herself to concentrate on Asher’s question. Her husband was reclining on their bed in nothing more than a pair of skintight breeches. “It is,” she
said, sitting on the bed, intending to talk, but Asher had her in his lap in a breath and was kissing her neck. “Darling,” she said, kissing him back, “I cannot concentrate this way.”
“That’s the point. Focus on us. There is nothing more we can do to push them together at this time.”
“Asher, she did not kiss Blackwood as that devil told Greybourne she did. You must make certain Greybourne hears this.”
“I will,” Asher promised, making quick work of getting her out of her gown. “We’re to meet tomorrow as I am helping Greybourne with a task.”
“Mmm…” she moaned as her husband nuzzled her neck. “I hope this task involves his aiding Lilias. Her family is in dire straits.”
“Ye know I cannot say.”
“I know.” She kissed Asher’s chest and then his lips. “But Lilias may well be living with us if Greybourne does not aid her.”
“I can promise ye that Lady Lilias will not have any more worries soon, but I cannot promise ye anything else. Greybourne’s past weighs heavily on him, and that is all I’m going to say.”
“Oh, that’s amazing!”
Asher looked puzzled. “How?”
She giggled. “No, not what you said. What you are doing with your fingers.”
Her husband’s response was to circle his fingers over her breast ever so gently again. After a moment, he paused and glanced at her. “Will you regret what we’ve done if it does not work out for them?”
Guinevere did not even hesitate. “It will work out. I am certain.” She gave Asher a deep kiss, to which he responded by flipping her onto her back and coming between her thighs.
He offered a loving smile as he hovered above her. “I love yer heart.” He kissed her. “And yer breasts.” He kissed each one. “And yer lips.” He kissed those, as well, sending her pulse spinning. “Shall I tell ye every part of ye I love?”
She grinned wickedly. “I think in this one instance, I’d prefer you to kiss me on every part of me you love.”
“Ah, my sweet, wicked wife. Ye command, and I obey.”
Chapter Eleven
A sennight after Nash had last seen Lilias at the Orcus Society, his solicitor sat in Nash’s study gathering the papers Nash had just signed. “That’s it, Your Grace. Lady Lilias’s mother is now the proud owner of Charingworth Manor in the Cotswolds. She’ll receive these papers tomorrow from the Earl of Barrowe, her late husband’s brother, indicating that he has given her the house outright. That was quite a bit of luck that the house you wanted of Lord Barrowe’s happened to be unentailed.”
“Yes,” Nash agreed, picking up his drink and taking a sip. The brandy burned a trail down his throat to his stomach. He wished it could burn away his past sins so he could have a future with the only woman he would ever love.
He finished the drink, set down the glass, and stared out the window into the meticulously designed garden of his Mayfair home. He’d trade all his property, all his money, all his worldly possessions to have had one night with Lilias to keep in his memory before he’d discovered Owen loved her, as well. Night was falling quickly, shadows overtaking the picturesque view of the garden, and with the darkness outside came the darkness within. It had been especially bad since he had said goodbye to Lilias. Every day not seeing her felt like a lifetime.
He considered once more what he’d done for her and her family, what he’d set in motion and asked Carrington to help him do, and he decided he didn’t give a damn if he’d overstepped or not. He needed to give her the freedom to have choices for her life, not to be afraid, not to be compelled to wed Owen if she truly did not wish to. Though he still did not understand why she had kissed Owen on the balcony that night if she had no feelings for him. Since they’d last parted, he had considered going to her and asking her a thousand times, but he dismissed the idea every time.
That was what a selfish person would do. He had to let things go, to let her go. Nash had sealed his own fate long before he’d met Lilias. He’d done what he could for her, and it would not lead back to him. He’d paid her uncle handsomely to tell Lilias and her family that the earl had decided to make the house her mother’s and that Lord Barrowe had also paid his brother’s, Lilias’s father’s, debts to the miscreants out of a suddenly discovered affection for his late brother’s family. The Earl of Barrowe was to concoct an excuse that he’d almost died and had a dream in which his brother’s ghost visited him and chastised him for not watching out for his nieces and sister-in-law. It was ridiculous. It was a tale worthy of a book, and that’s exactly why Nash expected that his sweet dreamer Lilias would believe it. Even if she didn’t, no one could prove he was the one who had taken care of the debts except his solicitor and Carrington, and neither man would betray Nash.
His solicitor, Mr. Farnsworth, cleared his throat. Nash looked up at the man and asked yet again, “You’re certain we took care of all the family debts?” He wanted nothing left for Lilias or her mother to worry about. He knew Owen could have done it, but he also knew it would have shamed Lilias to ask him. This way, she did not have to ask and could choose her own fate.
“Yes, Your Grace. The man I hired is the best, and with the information you gave me that the Duke of Carrington collected on who Lady Lilias’s father owed, I feel certain no one should be bothering the family anymore. And I conveyed to my man to deliver the message you requested: that you would hunt down any man who bothered them again and make his life one of misery.”
“Excellent. And the other request I made of you?”
The young solicitor smiled. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a friendly face. “That actually turned out to be much easier than I expected. My sister is a seamstress, and with a little poking around and a few passed coins, she got the measurements for all the women in the Honeyfield family. Everything you requested has been ordered, and they will think it came from Lord Barrowe.”
“Very good,” Nash said, grateful they could use Lilias’s uncle to protect Nash’s identity. “Then our business is concluded. You’ve done excellent work.”
“It’s my honor, Your Grace.”
Nash rang the bell, and the butler entered the study. Unfortunately, his mother came along with him, and by the frosty look she gave him, he suspected that he’d done something else to make her unhappy.
As the solicitor followed Sterns out of the study, his mother sat across from him. “What was that about?” she asked.
“Business,” he replied, then got up and poured himself another drink.
When he turned back toward her, she was frowning. “I don’t suppose you were talking to your solicitor because you have plans to make an offer for a lady?”
“You are correct not to suppose that.” He knocked back his drink, welcomed the numbing burn, and set the glass on the desk.
“You are imbibing too much,” his mother said, her voice cold and tone chastising.
He was tempted to pour another just to see if she would show real emotion. Become irate? Throw something at him? She so rarely displayed anything beyond the most muted responses.
“Are you playing at being my mother now?” he asked. “It’s a bit late. I’m all grown up.”
“It is never too late,” she said, her tone full of haughty disdain, “for you to become the duke your father and I expected you to be. You owe me.”
And there it was. She thought he owed her for Thomas’s death. But hadn’t he already given his life? His happiness? His peace? He opened his mouth to say all that, but he shut it just as quick. Penance. The word reverberated in his mind.
“What is it you wish me to do, Mother?”
She looked as him as if he ought to know. “Why, wed, of course.”
The thought made him flinch.
“Your greatest purpose is to wed a woman who will strengthen the Greybourne bloodline and produce many healthy sons.”
“Was that your greatest purpose?” he asked, her choice of the word healthy striking somewhere dark in him. He had never liked that they had undermined
Thomas’s confidence in himself simply because he was born with one leg shorter than the other and weak lungs.
“Partly, but we are not discussing me. I have a wife in mind for you. Her family line is impeccable.”
“She sounds like a perfect breeding specimen.” He didn’t bother to curb his cynicism.
“I’ve told her father you will come to supper.” It was a cold, detached statement.
“When?” he said, forcing himself to accept his fate and pushing any feelings about it away.
His mother gave a rare smile, purely triumphant. “Tomorrow.”
“Who is this paragon of purebred lines you’d have me wed?”
“Her name is Miss Eloise Balfour. She’s the daughter of Dr. Balfour.”
Nash frowned. “Our family physician?”
His mother nodded.
“I’m surprised and gladdened to discover you don’t consider her beneath the family name, given she’s not of the ton.”
“She has other things that recommend her,” his mother replied in a pinched tone.
What the devil is going on here?
“Such as?”
“Her mother produced six sons, all healthy.”
“I see.” His old anger at how they viewed Thomas as a problem to be managed and fixed flared once more. “Are you concerned, Mother, about getting an unhealthy grandchild?”
“Of course, I’m concerned,” she snapped. “Sins of the past always taint the future.”
His sins. She meant his sins.
And perhaps she was right. It didn’t matter that the prospect of meeting Miss Eloise Balfour did not make him feel anything. What mattered was atonement, and he was apparently far from finished atoning.
Lilias stood outside of her mother’s closed bedchamber door with her fist raised to knock, but she lowered her hand, heart pounding, and stared at the dark wood. She was tortured by guilt. She could not wed Owen, but how could she willingly make her sister and mother’s life more difficult? Why must things be so complicated?
Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid (Scottish Scoundrels: Ensnared Hearts Book 2) Page 17
