Three Nights with a Scoundrel

Dagger, meet heart.

He knew, rationally, that Lily was a capable, clever woman who didn’t need his help. But when he was around her, rational thought grew wings and flew out the nearest window. In its place, protective jealousy reigned supreme.

He scrubbed his face with one hand. “Well. At least she won’t have to put up with me much longer.” He rose and moved to quit the room.

The duke asked, “Just how much does Lily know?”

“About what? About her brother’s dalliance with a low-class whore? About Faraday? My enemies?”

“About your feelings for her.”

That dagger piercing his heart twisted, grinding against his solar plexus. He was too stunned to dissemble. Morland knew?

“Of course I know,” the duke said. “And if even I’ve noticed, it’s the worst-kept secret in England. When it comes to matters of the heart, I’m not especially perceptive.”

“You don’t say.” Julian stopped, hand and gaze fixed on the doorjamb. For years, he’d kept so many secrets. Why was he failing so miserably at hiding this? If even Morland could tell, did Lily suspect? How could she not, after that stupid, disastrous kiss?

Three nights, he told himself. He just had to make it through three nights. Somehow.

“Nothing,” he said flatly. “Lily knows nothing about any of it. Nor will she.”

Chapter Six

“A louse!”

The ginger-haired lieutenant shook his head and tried again, dragging his fingers through his hair in affected swoops and every so often tossing his head.

“A milkmaid!” the youngest shouted, leaping to his feet.

In response to this, the lieutenant shot a death glare toward his young compatriot. He adopted a new strategy now, tucking his thumbs into his armpits, puffing out his chest, and beginning to strut about the room. As he walked, his head jerked forward and back.

Michael raised his hand to guess. “A bantam?”

The lieutenant gestured his encouragement. Not quite right, his motions said, but getting closer. He thrust his fingers into his hair again, ruffling it with vigor until it stood straight up in the middle. He pointed to his smart ripple of carrot-colored hair. It could not escape anyone’s notice that he resembled a cross between Julian Bellamy and a rooster.

Ah. But of course.

Lily called out the obvious. “A coxcomb.”

With a wide grin, the ginger-haired lieutenant touched a finger to his nose, then bowed and left the circle. Everyone laughed—but the three young lieutenants laughed most gleefully. Lily supposed it must be some balm to their pride, to have a hearty chortle at the expense of the man who’d given them such a rude and literal setdown at dinner. Had Julian been out of circulation so long that his polished charm had lost its luster? Or did he simply not care anymore?

From his seat beside hers, the commander touched her wrist again. “Well done, my lady. Will you favor us with a turn?”

She shook her head. “To be truthful, charades really aren’t my forte.”

“Then name your amusement.”

She hedged. Honestly, she’d never been much for parlor games of any sort. “Cards?”

The commander stood and immediately ordered the younger officers to set the room for cards.

Lily rose from her chair and moved to the window seat, taking a moment’s amusement from the heated discussion a simple rearrangement of furniture could cause, where five men were involved. And then, in the next moment, she wondered—again—about Julian. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ever since this morning, her heart seemed to alternate pulses between her own life and his. If only he’d stay in the same room for a while, she might be saved from developing palpitations.

A sober-faced Michael joined her at the window. “I can’t stop thinking of him.”

“Truly?” she answered, briefly wondering what cause Michael would have to be obsessively thinking of Julian.

“It’s just … so hard to believe he’s gone.”

Leo. He means Leo, you fool. Strange. For the first time in months, Lily hadn’t been thinking of her brother.

“I wish I’d been able to attend the burial,” Michael said. “I hadn’t seen him in above two years.”

“Didn’t you see him the summer before last? Oh, but perhaps you were at sea that July.”

“Two summers ago?” Michael shook his head. “I wasn’t at sea. I was in Plymouth. But no, I didn’t have a chance to see Leo. Wasn’t he with you in Gloucestershire?”

“Not for July. He went …” Lily bit her tongue. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must be remembering it wrong.”

That July, Leo had spent the month at a reunion of his old Eton friends. She didn’t want to make Michael feel poorly for having been excluded. But then, why should Michael have been excluded? He’d been Leo’s closest friend at school. It made no sense, unless …

Unless Leo hadn’t attended a reunion with his old Eton friends. Unless he’d spent a month somewhere else.

The room went fuzzy around her. Fragments of those letters floated to the surface of her memory.

When I close my eyes at night, I imagine we’re there again. We lie still in the tall grass. A clear sky hangs over us. The sun’s warmth bakes the dew from our skin. Your fingers lace with mine. Like children, we laugh at the skylarks mating overhead.

Then you turn to me slowly, brush a lock of hair from my brow.

We kiss, and childish thoughts are put away.

Lily jolted back into the present. The commander stood before her.

“Shall we?” He extended a hand and tilted his head toward the card tables.

“Oh!” She rose to her feet. “Yes, of course.”

They sat down to whist. She, Amelia, Michael, and the commander occupied the first table, whilst the three younger lieutenants were left to play shorthanded at the other, with the empty fourth seat designated “dummy.”

Lily was partnered with Michael, and the commander seated himself to her left. As Amelia shuffled the deck, Lily tried to focus. She was good at cards, and especially skilled at whist. She looked forward to displaying proficiency in something this evening.

But she couldn’t. Her concentration was so scattered. Several times, she had to be prompted to play her turn. At her left, she felt the commander growing impatient. The testy set of his jaw told her what his words did not. He was bored with her. It happened. People like the commander started out solicitous and enthusiastic, treating conversation with a deaf woman as some sort of parlor game in its own right. But once they realized the game had no end, and furthermore, no prizes would be awarded … they sometimes grew weary of the effort and ceased trying.

To be fair, Lily was poor company. Her mind kept circling back to her conversation with Michael and that stack of letters she’d found hidden in Leo’s desk drawer. She’d always thought there’d been no secrets between her and her brother. Evidently she’d been wrong.

What had he been hiding from her? Or more to the point, whom?

And where in the world was Julian? He promised to escort her to three events, not make an appearance just long enough to humiliate her before fleeing the scene and leaving her all alone to deal with Leo’s grief-stricken friends. Not to mention commanders of the Royal Navy who were short on patience and entirely too free with their hands.

Even though she knew it to be unfair, she wanted to take her every moment of uncertainty, awkwardness, and undiluted fear in this endless day and heap the blame squarely at Julian’s feet. She was so very tired, and tired of being angry with him. Between the unshed tears blurring her vision and the trembling of her fingers, she could barely make out the figures on her cards.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, laying down her cards and rising from the table. “I believe I need some air.” When the other men began to rise, she motioned for them to remain in place. Amelia’s eyes flashed concern, and Lily tried to reassure her with a smile. “Don’t get up, please. I’ll return momentarily.” Just as soon as I find Julian and drag him back, too.

As she smoothed her skirts, she tried not to feel defeated. Yes, she could handle these settings alone. But given the choice, she would prefer to handle them with Julian.

When had he become so essential to her?

She turned away from the card table and moved to quit the room.

Then she stopped. Because Julian was there in the doorway, headed toward her.

When their eyes met, they each stumbled to a halt. He smiled at the coincidence. She pressed her lips together. In unison, they exchanged brief nods, followed by matching expressions of suppressed laughter. A whole conversation, crammed into the space of a moment, with nary a word exchanged. The understanding and patience she craved … it was all there, waiting in his eyes. Strange impulses tugged at her. The strongest of which being the desire to run at the man, fling both arms around his neck, and hope—just breathe and wait and hope, with her pulse thundering in her ears—that his arms would naturally wrap around her, too.

But before she could embarrass them both, Julian’s gaze cut away, darting to the card players behind her. Lily watched his face blanch, then flush crimson with fury. His lips formed crisp, distinct words. Words not intended for her, but for someone beyond her right shoulder.

“What the devil did you just say?”

Oh, dear. The commander must have made some remark when she’d turned away. Something insensitive, when she couldn’t overhear. And of course, Julian was incapable of letting such remarks pass. His mouth thinned to a tight, angry line. At his sides, his hands balled into formidable fists.

He was going to hurt someone. Soon.

Lily stepped in front of him. The scene wasn’t disastrous yet. If she pretended to be oblivious to the whole situation, everyone else could act the same. “Mr. Bellamy,” she said lightly. “I … I was just on my way to get some air. Would you take me for a turn about the garden?”

She took his hand. Or rather, his wrist, since his hand was a solid lump of knuckles and thumb.

He glared past her, at the commander. “You’re a bastard. Don’t think she doesn’t know it.”

“Julian,” she whispered, frantic. “Take me for a turn in the garden. Now.”

This time, she did not wait for his agreement. Mining a reserve of strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Lily yanked him by the wrist until he did an about-face. She thrust her arm through his, linking him securely at her side. He stiffened for a moment, as though his mind and muscles were at odds over how to respond. But when she stepped forward, he did too. Thank heaven. Together, they left the drawing room and the card tables and the commander behind.

But they never made it anywhere near the garden.

Lily tugged him into the first available space—a room just across the corridor—and, with a quick glance about for servants, carefully shut the door behind them. This must be Amelia’s day room. The room was thick with overstuffed furniture designed for comfort, not fashion, and needlework baskets and homely curios occupied the tables. The windows were hung with plush velvet draperies. It was the perfect place for a private conversation.

Just the same, she strove to keep her voice low as she turned to Julian. “What was all that, then?”

His face shuttered. “Nothing.”

“For pity’s sake, you can tell me. I gather the commander made some jesting remark, one he knew I couldn’t hear. It must have been quite ill-mannered, to turn you that particular shade of red.”

Julian just shook his head, refusing to answer. He took a few paces, swinging the tension from his arms as he walked.

Lily crossed her arms over her chest. Because the room was cold, and because she needed a hug—and it seemed Julian would not offer one. “Will you make me guess? Let me see … We were playing whist, and I left them shorthanded. Ah. It must have been something about having to play with a dummy hand, hm?” She smiled to herself. “Yes, that would make sense. ‘Trading one dumb player for another.’ Was it something like that?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">