by Lauren Smith
Hugo leapt from the settee. “No!” He shouted the word this time, as if it would somehow banish the last few minutes from his mind like a nightmare.
“Hugo, please…” Jane stood, but it was too late. Her son shot her one last dark, cold, and furious gaze before he left, slamming the door behind him so hard it rattled against the frame.
Jane slumped back onto the settee, gazing down at her hands in her lap as the tea in the pot grew cold.
Jane Waverly cleared her throat as Ashton politely looked away while she wiped her eyes.
“Hugo never came back after that. Not even when Peter was born. I’ve never even held my grandson. My son never forgave me. It did not matter that Hugo was conceived in a moment of happiness, of love, with the man who will always have my heart. Hugo may have Guy’s blood in him, but he was raised by my husband to have hate fill his heart. I never should have told him the truth. It’s a decision that will haunt me forever.” Jane’s voice broke a little, and Ashton removed a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She accepted with a watery smile.
“How I envy Violet, to have a noble son with such good friends. You will have mercy on him, won’t you? Do what you must to protect Charles, but please, please do not harm my son.” Her heartbreaking plea shattered Ashton’s heart. He was not certain he could make that promise.
“It is my fault. Mine,” she whispered. “His grief has turned to madness, and I could have prevented it.”
Ashton’s throat swelled tight as he felt compassion for this broken, lonely woman. “We have all sworn to do what is right, Mrs. Waverly. That I can promise you.” He couldn’t dare tell this dear woman that it might mean killing Hugo, but the man had to be stopped.
“Thank you,” Jane said, but he could see in her eyes that she knew the truth. Someone would not survive this battle.
“I’m afraid I must go. Thank you for all you have shared with me.” Ashton stood, and Jane followed suit, catching his sleeve before he could leave. Her eyes were dark with emotion.
“Violet knows about Hugo. If anyone must tell Charles the truth, it should come from her.”
With a nod, Ashton left Jane Waverly’s drawing room. He was not prepared for the icy chill that met him as he left her home; his mind was far away, in an even colder place.
Brothers. Like Cain and Abel. This was the final piece of the puzzle. It explained why Hugo hadn’t tried to hurt them after Cambridge. He’d been healing, in his own way. Trying to put the past behind him. But learning he and Charles were brothers had set him back on the path to darkness. He must have felt like a pawn in a great cosmic joke, and Hugo was not the sort of man who would ever allow himself to be a pawn in anything. He saw himself as the master of his own destiny. It all made sense now. With this, Ashton was beginning to understand what Hugo’s endgame was. And that meant he could finally prepare his counter.
But what of Charles? Should they tell him?
No. Ashton did not want Charles to know the truth, not unless he had to. It would be far too great a sorrow for Charles to bear, one that might put him in even greater danger.
18
“Tell me the truth now.” Violet Humphrey stared at Charles with a sharp gaze honed by years of raising rogues for children.
“Truth? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Charles hedged as best he could, but he knew he wouldn’t win any argument his mother began.
“There’s a woman.” Violet sat perched on a settee with Charles’s little sister, Ella, beside her. Ella had a book open in her lap but had not turned a page since this parental inquisition began. Her blonde hair, so much like his, framed her face as she peered blankly at her pages. She was pretty, of course, with eyes more blue than gray, like their mother’s, but her features were a more feminine version of their father’s. She was small and delicate, but fiercely intelligent and kindhearted.
“There are plenty of women. You…Ella…the cook…” Teasing his mother was a favorite hobby of his. Some men collected butterflies and insects; Charles searched for new ways to provoke his mother.
“Plenty of women? Oh!” She snapped her fan shut the way a man would cock a pistol and pointed it at him menacingly.
“I believe London is full of women, or haven’t you noticed?” he asked innocently.
“Ella, fetch my smelling salts. Your brother is trying to kill me.”
Ella laid her book down and retrieved a tiny bottle from her reticule. Violet swatted it away like an irritating fly.
“Not now. Wait until I actually faint.”
Charles couldn’t resist grinning, which only made his mother’s eyes narrow.
“The girl at the Sanderson ball. Who is she?”
“A girl now? Not a woman? I thought we were speaking of women? What interest would I possibly have in girls?”
Violet growled and chucked the fan at his head, which he easily caught.
“You know exactly what I mean, Charles Michael Edward Humphrey. Now talk.”
“Oh,” he said dramatically. “The girl from the Sanderson ball. You must mean Lily Wycliff.”
“Yes. That Wycliff girl. Who is she?” His mother’s brown eyes assessed him as though she was contemplating wedding plans. For the first time in his life, he wished his mother would do exactly that.
“Well, she’s a widow,” he began.
“A widow?”
“Her husband, Aaron Wycliff, was a favorite cousin of the Duchess of Essex.”
“A country gentleman, then?” She paused in reflection, no doubt scanning her memory for any sign that she knew who he was speaking of.
“I believe so.”
“And the widow? Where do her people hail from?”
Charles opened his mouth, but he realized he had no answer. “I honestly have no idea.”
“You are falling in love with a woman, and you don’t even know who she is?”
Charles frowned. “I didn’t say I was falling in love with her. We’ve only just met.” In truth he was, if he hadn’t already, but he didn’t wish for his mother to know. Not until he was certain Lily would agree to become the Countess of Lonsdale.
“You’re in love, my dear boy,” his mother sighed. “I’ve heard from more than one friend at the ball about how you looked at her and how she looked at you.”
“Radiant, I believe someone said,” Ella supplied. He had long known that she enjoyed making him squirm as much as he did their mother. “Radiant. Charming. Buoyant. Though one person did say ‘a couple of lovesick fools.’”
Charles’s face flushed, and he tugged at his neckcloth. How had it become so unbearably hot in this room so quickly?
“Yes, I heard that too,” his mother agreed.
“I heard she has a child,” Ella added.
“A child?” His mother’s expression hardened slightly. “That may be a problem.”
Charles hadn’t forgotten she had a child. He hadn’t wanted his mother to know in case she wasn’t thrilled with the idea. Of course, thanks to Ella, it was too late now to avoid the subject.
“I don’t see it as such. I would welcome her child as my own. If she will have me.”
“Well, if you will welcome the child, then so shall I. So it seems you have decided then? After all these years, you’ve now found a woman worthy of your affections?”
He answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
“When shall we meet her?”
He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “Er… I am taking her to the opera tonight.”
His mother clapped her hands together. “Splendid! Ella and I shall accompany you and Mrs. Wycliff in your box. You shall meet us there.”
“Very good,” Charles said, and then he cleared his throat. “Mother, has Graham written to you?”
“Graham? Not since last week, why?” His mother’s seeming happiness over Charles’s upcoming nuptials thinned.
“I must ask that you not overreact, Mother, but Graham was injured. I’ve been taking care of him.” He rushed
to calm her before she panicked.
“Injured?” The word escaped from her lips.
“He’s healing and safe.”
Violet surged to her feet. “Safe? What do you mean? Is he in danger?”
“Mother, you really must sit. I will explain everything if you let me.”
“Smelling salts, now!” Violet held her hand out to Ella, who handed her the vial of smelling salts. Violet promptly shattered it against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest, glowering.
“You will talk, now, dear boy.”
Charles glanced at Ella and swallowed hard. Lord, sometimes he forgot his mother could be a fearsome creature.
“Graham and Lord Kent were gambling. Kent had an unusually poor streak.” Charles paused, unsure how much he could tell them.
“What happened?” Ella asked.
“Kent was given the chance to fight in a boxing ring to pay off his debt, but in the process he was gravely injured. Graham tried to help him, but they beat him as well. But Graham is going to be fine.”
“Thank God,” his mother said, her eyes bright with tears.
“And Lord Kent?” Ella demanded.
“He will be all right…I hope. The doctor said if he could survive a few weeks, he should pull through.”
The news seemed to devastate Ella. “May I go see him?” she asked. “I mean, Graham, of course. But also Lord Kent.”
Charles raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been aware that Ella was close to Phillip. “I suppose, if Mother doesn’t object.”
Ella gave their mother a desperate look.
“As long as you aren’t underfoot while Charles is pursuing Mrs. Wycliff. Lord knows your brother will need every advantage to win this mystery woman.”
“I won’t,” Ella replied at the same time Charles said, “She won’t.”
“Then you may go.” Violet looked to Charles. “Graham is truly well?”
“Yes, a bit bruised, but he will be fine.” It was an exaggeration, but he did not wish for her to worry more than she had to.
The significance of the moment only now seemed to dawn on his mother. “But he came to you? Of all places? Does that mean…?” Her eyes were bright with hope.
Charles gently cupped his mother’s shoulders. “I think so, yes. He is still cautious, but that is only natural under the circumstances. I, for my part, will do all I can to make amends while he is under my roof.”
“That’s wonderful. You know how much it has broken my heart to see you two not speaking to each other.”
“I know. But it will still take time.”
Violet wiped her eyes. “Well, then let’s focus on this evening. The opera and meeting your Mrs. Wycliff.”
Charles’s stomach fluttered with a sudden touch of nerves. Tonight his mother would be meeting Lily for the first time. It was quite a frightening prospect. But surely his mother would like her. She was wonderful. How could she not?
“We shall see you tonight then, dear boy.” His mother kissed his cheek, then shooed him away.
Charles left his mother’s home with a grin on his face, but as he stepped into his coach he had the sense he was being watched. He glanced around the street but saw no obvious signs of anyone looking at him.
In fact, he saw no one at all.
Lily held her breath as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was in her guest bedchamber at the Essex house and was unable to deny she felt like a princess from one of the fairy tales she read to Katherine. The dark-rose gown she had put on was, in a word, stunning. It didn’t try to hide her height, nor did it overly embellish her more gentle curves. Rather, it brought out the beauty of her willowy figure.
The dress was designed with gold bands of embroidered patterns along the sleeves and the hem. The neckline was deep and square cut, and Lily blushed as she reached up to touch her collarbone.
How long had it been since she’d played the lady? Too long. There were nights she’d escaped Charles’s employment as Tom and had been able to venture to Vauxhall, even Gunter’s for flavored ices, or to Bond Street for shopping. And then there had been those times Hugo had had need of her skills in a more feminine guise. But tonight she was to be out in society and would have a genuine chance to enjoy herself.
“You look lovely,” Emily said from the doorway. She held Katherine high up on her side, balanced on her hip. Lily’s daughter held a tiny doll and was smiling and talking to herself, chirpy little words that were too quick for Lily to understand.
“You truly wish to watch her tonight? You could leave her with the nurse.” Lily couldn’t believe the duchess had offered to watch the baby and miss the opera.
“Of course, but I’d rather stay home. I’m too far along to be out on icy streets tonight. Besides, Godric is in need of some paternal practice.”
Lily almost laughed. One could practice all they liked, but there was no real preparation for parenthood.
“Don’t forget to take your cloak.” Emily nodded to one of the parcels, still wrapped on the bed. Lily removed the brown paper and unfolded a deep yellow-gold cottage cloak with a thick large hood. She wrapped it around her body and fastened it under her chin. She left the hood down for now and faced Emily, reticule in hand.
“Remember to smile!” Emily cheered. “This is supposed to be fun. You are excited to see Charles, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m just nervous.” This morning when he had paid a call on her, she had been able to do what was expected of her, but knowing he saw their future as something real, a future she secretly desired more than anything, crushed her. She wanted to believe she could have a happy life with him, but that was impossible. Not while Hugo held her daughter’s life in his hands.
“You have no reason to be nervous. Charles is a good man, and I think he’s quite serious about you. Godric said he has never brought a woman flowers before.”
Lily couldn’t help but smile. She believed that. Working as Tom, she’d grown very aware of his habits with ladies. He preferred to take more discreet and scandalous routes to a woman’s affections, which had made his gesture this morning feel all the more sincere, which made her all the more conflicted. Her smile faltered.
“Mama!” Katherine held out her doll.
“For me?” Lily hugged the doll to her chest and kissed it before giving it back to Katherine. “Why don’t you keep her safe while I’m gone? You’ll be all right with Aunt Emily, won’t you?”
Katherine nodded and burrowed her face shyly into Emily’s neck. Lily longed to hold her, but if she did she would never find the courage to leave.
“We’ll be fine.” Emily gave Katherine a squeeze. “Tell your mama to have a good night.”
“Good night, Mama,” Katherine said. Lily laughed and gazed with love at her daughter. Whenever she doubted herself, all she ever had to do was think of her, and the path became clear.
Simkins met her at the bottom of the stairs, giving her a warm smile.
“Lord Lonsdale’s coach has just arrived. Would you like to wait for him to come in?”
“Oh! No, I’ll go down to him.” Lily thanked Simpkins and pulled the hood of her cloak up as she left. The bitter wind smelled of snow, and she saw heavy clouds, soft and gray against the dark night sky. At the coach, Charles opened the door but froze when he saw her.
“Lily, I was just about to—” He stopped, then struggled for words. “You look…”
“Yes?”
Charles looked around, as if fighting part of himself that wanted to kiss her senseless in order to be a better person for her. “You will be the envy of the opera.”
Lily favored him with a smile. “Would you mind terribly if I sat beside you?”
“M-mind?” he stuttered. “Of-of course not.”
“Are you cold, my lord?” She moved over and sat beside him. After a moment he carefully stretched his left arm around her shoulders. “Strange, you seem very warm to me.”
“D-do I?” he asked.
She ducked her hea
d, to make herself look embarrassed. “I’m not being too forward with you, am I? I had thought we were past all that after we…”
“Kissed?” he volunteered.
“Yes. Would you kiss me now?”
“Here?” he asked, his voice roughening a little with excitement.
“Yes, here,” she cut in, moving closer to his lips.
His resolve broken, he pulled her onto his lap. Heat met heat as their lips joined. His hands explored her back, then her skirts. A wintery chill rushed up her leg as his fingers teased one of her ankles. She giggled in delight at his gentle touches. She’d never thought she could be with a man, not after what Hugo had done, but with Charles everything was different.
She felt no danger with him, no pain, no fear, only a powerful joy, tinged with a sadness she tried to suppress. She did not deserve this happiness, not even for a little while, but she could not stop herself from feeling it.
As he kissed her, she dragged her fingers down his waistcoat, wishing they were somewhere else, somewhere where she could remove it. So many nights she’d watched him bathe, seeing his glorious golden body, and she’d dreamed about moments like this, of being free to surrender her fears and feel only pleasure with this man. He was like a bewitching elixir, one that could bring her heart back from the dead and make her whole again. He kissed her leisurely, like he had all the time in the world, which only made her more desperate.
She nibbled the lobe of his ear. “Won’t you kiss me harder?”
Charles shuddered against her. “Harder?” His hands tightened a little in her hair, and she felt his erection press against her.
“Kiss me like you expect to be slapped for it.”
He pulled away, concern marring the perfection of his face. “Is that what you truly want?” She nodded fiercely and curled her arms around his neck.
“Kiss me like we have no tomorrow. Please.”
“You never cease to surprise me.” He lowered his head again, and this time she saw and tasted the full hunger of the rogue she’d fallen in love with.
His mouth commanded hers, his tongue flicked inside her ear, and his hands moved everywhere. He was an unstoppable force of lust and pleasure. Lily moaned as he bit her neck, knowing it would leave a mark, but she didn’t care. He knew just how to suck, to lick, to whisper his lips along her skin in unexpected places and make her womb clench and throb.
