Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid (Scottish Scoundrels: Ensnared Hearts Book 2)

by Julie Johnstone

  “Lilias?” She jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice behind her and whirled around to find Mama standing there holding a bunch of papers. “I was just coming to find you.”

  Lilias’s stomach knotted, and her mouth went dry. “I thought you were in your bedchamber.”

  “Why didn’t you knock?” Mama asked.

  “I—Well, I, feared I might wake you,” Lilias fibbed, her cheeks instantly burning with the lie. When her mother chuckled, Lilias’s jaw slipped open. “Mama, you laughed!”

  Mama linked her arm with Lilias’s, opened her bedchamber door, and led them both inside. She closed the door behind her and motioned to the sitting area. “Your cheeks pink when you fib. They always have.” She said it in a gentle tone, then motioned toward the window. “Take a seat, Daughter. I have news!”

  Lilias was glad for the delay in telling her mother her own news so she immediately did as requested and sat in the burgundy chair near the window. Her mother sat on the chaise that faced the chair and set the papers she’d been holding in her lap. And then that scrutinizing look of moments before swept over her face again. Lilias assumed she’d decided to ask her why she’d been at her door again, but instead, Mama surprised her by saying, “I saw your uncle today.”

  “Uncle Simon was here?”

  Mama nodded.

  “I did not even realize…” Lilias’s words drifted off at the undeniable realization of how self-absorbed she’d been.

  “No,” her mother said softly, leaning toward Lilias and taking her hand, “you would not have. You’ve been quite sad. Don’t think I am totally oblivious, darling.”

  “Mama, I’m so sorry!”

  “Don’t be.” Her mother patted her hand. “I suspect it has something to do with your impending marriage.”

  Lilias swallowed convulsively. Now was her chance. Her mother had given her the perfect opportunity to tell her, but Lilias’s mouth would not form the words. She was frozen by guilt.

  Mama squeezed her hand. “You do not wish to wed Blackwood.” It was a statement, softly spoken. Lilias’s heart pounded, and she wasn’t even sure if she nodded. Her mother continued. “But you would for me and Nora.”

  “I intended to,” Lilias sobbed, “but Mama, it’s complicated.”

  Her mother nodded. “Life always is, dearest. Does your hesitation have to do with the Duke of Greybourne, perchance?”

  “Yes.” She groaned. “But we can never be together. That is not the only reason I do not wish to wed Blackwood, though.”

  “Why could you not be together? Does he think himself too good for you?”

  Lilias smiled at her mother’s protective tone. She had not heard it in so many years.

  “No, it’s not that.” She took a deep breath and told her mother what she knew of Nash and how he blamed himself for both his brother’s death and Owen’s accident, and that he would never allow himself a future with her because of Owen. Then she explained how Owen had lied and told Nash she had kissed him.

  “Oh, dear, that is an unfortunate turn of events. And what of you? If you didn’t have to wed Blackwood, would you fight for a future with the Duke of Greybourne, even though he might reject you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered without hesitation. “I would fight for him until I had no fight left.”

  Mama grinned. “Then it’s a very good thing you don’t have to wed Blackwood.”

  Confusion and hope filled Lilias. “How can you say that?”

  Her mother held up the papers. “Your uncle came here to tell me he’s seen the error of his ways.”

  “Uncle Simon?” Lilias could hardly imagine.

  “I was surprised, as well, but he has given me Charingworth Manor, and he has paid all your father’s debts. You are free!” Her mother frowned. “Well, the ton will consider you ruined, but I don’t care and neither should you. I’m tired of caring what people of the ton think. It has nearly killed me. Don’t let the man you love simply walk away from you. Though, I daresay you have some explaining to do as to how you came to love a man I do not even know.” Her mother eyed her sternly.

  Lilias took a deep breath once again and shared her adventures years before in the Cotswolds with her mother. Once she was done talking, silence fell.

  Her mother looked contemplative for a moment. “I fear I did you an injustice not to stand firmer with your father on the companion and not keeping my own eye upon you.” Worry and guilt etched her mother’s face.

  Lilias took her hand and squeezed it. “No, Mama. I had a wonderful childhood. Truly.” She realized in that moment how true it was. No, she had not felt protected as many girls did, but that had made her into the woman she was now. A strong one. One who would bear the ton’s scorn and fight for the man she loved. One who would carve her own path as her father had wished her to do.

  Her mother pursed her lips and then said, “Be that as it may, first thing tomorrow, I’m going to secure you and Nora a companion. Your father had such a force of will, and I, well, I was no match for him. And then I was just trying to survive the financial problems and my sadness. Your father made you strong. I see that. Let me do my part to protect you.”

  It seemed easier not to argue against the companion, and if she knew Mama, who had always had a horrible time making decisions, it would be a while before a companion would be secured. That was time enough to plot with Guinevere about Nash and address the problem of securing Helen’s manuscript.

  “Oh!” Mama said, sifting through the papers she was holding and plucking a sealed letter out. She extended it to Lilias. “This came from Blackwood.”

  Lilias quickly tore it open and read.

  Dearest Lilias,

  I’ve returned to Town, and I shall call on you this afternoon. I cannot wait to see you.

  Yours,

  Owen

  Anger with Owen flared as Lilias folded the note and looked at her mother. “Blackwood is to call upon me this afternoon, and—”

  A scratch at the bedchamber door interrupted Lilias. “My lady,” the butler called out, “Lord Blackwood is here to call upon Lady Lilias. Shall I see him to the drawing room?”

  “Yes, do,” her mother replied. She stood and motioned for Lilias to do the same. “Go on, darling. Time to take your future into your own hands. You cannot win the man who has your heart until you break this betrothal.”

  She wasn’t at all certain she could win Nash even after the betrothal was broken, but she was going to try. This was likely her last chance. He loved her. He’d practically said so. If only he’d accept that their love had the power to heal the scars on his heart, as it had done with hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  Truth was the only way forward. No matter how painful, it had to be truth. As she opened the parlor door, Lilias realized that as angry as she was with Owen, now that her ire was cooling a bit, she felt sorry for him. He didn’t really love her. Love was not selfish and possessive to the point of lying to keep someone with you. Owen feared being left again by someone close to him. So as she shut the door and he turned away from the window to face her and a smile lit his face, she restrained the simmering fury she felt.

  “You lied to Nash,” she said softly.

  His whole demeanor changed. The smile faded, his eyes grew hard, and his shoulders stiffened. She had hoped he would be remorseful, that they could somehow salvage their friendship, but he was clearly far from ready for that. It left her with the need to put distance between them, and it filled her with aching sadness.

  “I have devoted my life to you,” he said. The words held an edge that she didn’t like. She took a step back. “I would do anything for you. Yes, I lied. But that’s because I love you. He’ll do nothing but hurt you.”

  “You cannot keep someone with lies, Owen. You knew I loved him.” She had thought about it a lot over the last day since Guinevere’s revelation about Owen’s lie. “You knew I loved him, and you did all in your power to ensure he and I never had a chance. That is not love.”<
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  “Isn’t it?” he snarled. “Tell me what love is, then. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Everyone I love leaves. You. My mother.”

  He’d never wanted to speak of his mother before. Lilias had tried, but he’d always refused. Tears sprang to her eyes now at the hurt inside him. “I won’t abandon you, Owen, not if you don’t force me to, but the way I love you is in friendship. It’s always been friendship.”

  “Why?” he demanded, his voice like thunder in the silence. “I’m better for you.”

  “No.” She shook her head, her heart so heavy. “I would make you crazed with my love for adventure, my need for freedom.”

  “You need a protector, Lilias! Someone to guide you and keep you from harm. I’m that man! I’ll keep you from doing foolish things.”

  “I don’t want or need that sort of protector,” she said through the tears that were now falling. Her father had given her that gift, as had her mother, even if she hadn’t wanted it at the time. All those years Lilias had longed to feel protected, and she had unknowingly learned to protect herself.

  Owen advanced so quickly she did not have time to react. He grabbed her by the arms as his expression twisted in agony and fear. “He is not who you believe he is! You don’t know Nash, not really. You never did.”

  “Release me, Owen,” she demanded. “You’re hurting me.”

  He stared at her for a moment, as if he might not do as she asked, but he finally released her. He turned and kicked out at the side table. It toppled over, the vase upon it shattering and water spilling across the floor.

  Right away, a scratch came at the door. “My lady?” the butler called. “Do you need assistance?”

  Owen shook his head and raked his hands through his hair, visibly trembling. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding frustrated. “I won’t lose control again. That was not acceptable.”

  “I’m fine,” she called to the butler as she touched Owen’s arm lightly. “It’s understandable, Owen. I’ve hurt you.”

  “I’ll take the hurt, if you will only but see. I am best for you. He will not even have you. I vow it. You’d not want him, either. He’d hurt you as he hurts everyone. He killed his brother.”

  Her heart dropped at his continued lies. “That’s not true.”

  “It is! My father told me years ago that Nash stole the girl his brother loved from him, and the brother charged him on the ice, the ice broke, and when he fell through, Nash stood there and watched him drown. My father heard the truth in Town.”

  She could hardly believe how Owen was turning on Nash. “Your father heard gossip,” she said, fiercely angry. “Nash told me what happened.”

  “And you think he’d tell you the truth?” Owen demanded harshly.

  “Yes,” she said, “he would. I know him.”

  “Do you?” he sneered. “Did you know that the day I challenged him to a race in front of you, he had told me the night before that he’d let me win. He knew he was better. He told me that to shame me, to best me just as he had his brother. And I almost died—just like his brother.”

  “No!” she vehemently denied. “He would never want to hurt you. He’s denied himself to protect you!”

  Nash’s words from the night they stood outside the Orcus Society rang in her head then. It’s not just that, Lilias. God, it’s not, but that’s enough. Had he been referring to Owen? She had suspected all along that Nash blamed himself for Owen’s fall, but if they’d had this conversation and Nash had said he’d let Owen win, she understood why he might blame himself. But she knew Nash. He would have never hurt Owen purposely, and the fact that Owen would try to make her think so infuriated her.

  “He would never have intentionally hurt you like your mother did when she left you and your father,” she said.

  “Maybe not,” he said, “but he can’t help himself. He’ll hurt you next.”

  “Get out,” she said in a firm but quiet voice. She had not wanted it to be like this, but this was how it had to be.

  “Don’t do this, Lilias,” Owen said, his voice suddenly pleading, his face softening. “I love you. I’m the best man for you. I have always been there for you. He left you. He left you, and he will never wed you. Then where will you be?”

  “Alone,” she said. “But I’d rather be alone than wed to a man I don’t love. Goodbye, Owen.” She turned before he could say more, marched to the door, and opened it.

  “When he abandons you, Lilias, I’ll be here,” Owen said, now facing her. “That’s what love is. You’ll come back and I’ll be here waiting for you. You’ll see.”

  Lilias wanted to reach out and hug him for the pain his mother’s leaving him long ago had put deep inside him, but that would only give him false hope with her. Instead, she shook her head and said, “One day, when you are ready, I will be here, Owen, waiting as your friend. Nothing more. And I feel certain Nash will be there as your friend, as well.”

  “He’s no friend of mine!” Owen bit out and brushed past her. He stormed past the gawking butler, her wide-eyed mother, and Nora, and a moment later, the front door slammed so loudly that Lilias swore she felt it in her bones.

  The butler quietly disappeared, and her mother said, “Well, that did not appear to go well.”

  “No,” Lilias said on a long sigh. “I wonder if I should warn Greybourne.”

  Her mother smiled. “That would give you an excellent reason to see him, but not,” she admonished, “until tomorrow, and not if Guinevere cannot accompany you, dearest. It’s time you start behaving like a proper lady. If Greybourne doesn’t come to heel, then—”

  “Mama!” Lilias moaned. “I thought you understood. I cannot wed another man. I love Greybourne. I will not stop loving him simply because he may not want me. It is a love so deep I ache with it.”

  Nora sighed, and a dreamy smile tugged her lips upward. Mama slid an arm around Lilias’s shoulder. “I do understand,” she soothed. “I was going to say that if Greybourne does not come to heel, then perhaps you can become a companion or some such thing, but you will need to start acting within the expected boundaries immediately.”

  “That sounds dreadful!” Nora announced, to which Lilias could not agree more.

  The minute Guinevere pulled up in her gig late the next afternoon, Lilias flew out the door, barely giving the footman time to open it. She’d been waiting all day for the appointed hour Guinevere said she could accompany Lilias to call upon Nash, as Lilias’s mother’s had demanded, and Guinevere had been engaged all day until now. Lilias bounded down the steps and into the gig, and Guinevere laughed at her.

  “My, you’re eager,” she said, her voice holding a knowing note. She’d told Guinevere in her note earlier that morning that she’d broken her betrothal to Owen. As Guinevere maneuvered the horse onto the lane to go to Nash’s, Lilias quickly told her of what her Uncle Simon had done. When she was finished, Guinevere gave a snort that sounded strangely derisive. Lilias frowned but continued. “I intend to call upon my uncle and thank him.”

  “Ha!” Guinevere said.

  “What do you mean, ‘ha’?” Lilias asked, confused.

  “Oh, did I say ‘ha’? I was—Well, I was thinking about something Asher said earlier.”

  “You’re acting very odd,” Lilias said, though she did know from being in love herself how easy it was to let the object of one’s affections consume one’s thoughts, even when they were not present.

  “Sorry, dearest. How did Blackwood take your breaking the betrothal?”

  “Not well at all.” As Guinevere drove them along, Lilias told her of Owen’s reaction, his accusation that Nash had killed his own brother, and his claiming that Nash meant to shame Owen in front of Lilias by luring him into a race he had never intended to allow Owen to win.

  “From what I have observed of Greybourne personally since his return, I sincerely doubt that,” Guinevere said. “His actions have been very honorable.”

  “What actions?” Lilias asked, intrigued.

&
nbsp; “This and that,” Guinevere replied in an evasive manner. Lilias was about to ask for specifics, but then Guinevere went on, “So you are calling upon him simply to warn him that Blackwood may now wish him ill?”

  Lilias blushed, and her stomach roiled with anxiousness. “Well, I suppose I was hoping that if Greybourne heard the news of my broken betrothal to Owen, it might possibly come to him that we could have a future together.”

  “And if it does not?” Guinevere asked, looking from the lane to Lilias.

  “I’ll fight for him,” she said, conviction coursing through her. “I’ll try to break through the guilt I think is consuming him. I can’t let go, Guin. Not yet. Not until there’s no hope. Do you think me a fool?”

  Guinevere grinned at her. “No, dearest. I think you are marvelous, and strong, and determined. And I think Greybourne is lucky you love him.”

  Not long later, they pulled up to Nash’s home in Mayfair. They handed the gig off to a servant who had appeared and made their way up the steps.

  Guinevere eyed her. “Is that a new cloak, and slippers, and gloves?”

  Lilias ran a finger over her new fur-lined cloak as they ascended the last few stairs and she knocked on the door. She turned to Guinevere, her pulse racing with expectation, and she tried to calm herself by continuing the conversation. “Uncle Simon sent it all this morning. Can you believe it?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, I cannot. Listen, Lilias. I should not say anything, but—”

  Just then, the door to Nash’s home opened, and Guinevere winked at Lilias, took out her calling card, and quickly explained that she was there to see Nash’s sister and that Lilias had business with the duke.

  They followed the butler as he explained that Nash was with his mother in his study and Lady Adaline was in the garden, which was on the way to the study, so they stopped at the garden first. Guinevere grasped Lilias’s hand and, squeezing it, whispered, “Good luck,” before she disappeared behind the servant and out into the garden.