My Fair Lily (24 page)

Ewan’s expression darkened, and though his arms were still stiffly crossed over his chest, she saw that he’d curled his hands into fists. Was standing in a moonlit garden with her such a chore? “Bastard. He only
did it to torture Desmond and Evangeline. They couldn’t attend
because I broke Desmond’s nose. But they’ll hear all about the musicale, particularly how the old duke fawned over Meggie.”

“That’s horrid.” Lily hadn’t thought of that possibility. She’d been so easily taken in by Ewan’s grandfather, so delighted by the courtesy and attention he was giving to Meggie. Of course, horrid
old men didn’t turn into gentle lambs overnight.

Ewan eased his stance and turned to face her. Silvery starlight shone on his hair and broad shoulders. He looked like a Highlands warrior. Brave. Strong. Fearless. “Don’t be taken in by his games, Lily. His cruelty is all the more venomous because of its subtlety.”

Which explained why Ewan had worn the kilt. Deliberately. As she’d first thought. He meant to stick his thumb in the duke’s eye, meant to let the old man know that he wasn’t fooled by the outward show of kindness. Also, Ewan was a Scot through and through. The second part of his message was a declaration—Ewan was not going to bend to the duke’s English ways.

Ewan tucked a finger under her chin and drew her gaze upward once more to meet his. She melted at the soft grin on his face. “Seems a shame to waste a perfect night,” he said in a husky murmur.

Lily smiled back. “Would be criminal to waste it.”

He lowered his head and was about to fulfill her every fantasy
when Callie called to him from the terrace. “Ewan! There you are.” Had she noticed Ewan about to kiss her? She’d brought along reinforcements, dragging Archie behind her, and her long, catlike
fingernails were clamped onto his arm as she pulled him down the small row of stairs onto the soft, dewy grass. “Who’s this? A friend of yours, darling?”

Darling?

Ewan introduced her to Callie again.

“Of course! You must forgive my oversight. But I’ve met so many Farthingales this evening, can’t seem to get any of you straight. It’s most
confusing. Didn’t I see you dancing in the arms of the Duke of
Edgeware
a short while ago? You seemed quite transported, not that any
woman wouldn’t be while in his arms.”

“You’re mistaken. I’ve been out here.”

“I saw you with him.” She appeared indignant.

“It must have been my sister you saw dancing.”

Callie beaded her eyes. “I know what I saw.”

Lily sighed and glanced at Ewan. The Duke of Edgeware had no interest in her. No man did. Ewan winked at her, obviously finding
humor in Callie’s confusion. He knew the notion was ridiculous. After the way she’d gawked at him this morning, how could he
doubt she was attracted to him? Like a bee to honey. She supposed Ewan was
used to women flitting around him. Probably had them by the hundreds, while she’d never even had a beau.

Men didn’t like her in that capture-a-man’s-soul way. Ashton had paid attention to her because of her research. He’d stopped coming around now that she was banned from the Royal Society. Where was
he, come to think of it? Was he purposely avoiding her? She
understood Ashton’s concerns. He didn’t want the duke to be reminded of their connection and decide to ban him as well. Still, he should have been here this evening.

“Oh, you’re the one,” Callie said, interrupting Lily’s thoughts. “I recall now. Ewan told me about you. You’re the bluestocking he hired to ease Meggie’s introduction into London society. You needn’t worry. We’ll take her and Ewan off your hands. Darling, did
you hear? Lord
and Lady Abercrombie have also come to town. They’ve invited all of us to their estate this weekend. It’s just outside London. Uncle Archie has a splendid new carriage. Plenty of room for you and
Meggie. The four of us can travel together. Won’t that be fun?”

Ewan ignored her, turning to Lily instead. “You look cold, lass. Come, I’ll escort you inside.”

“Please don’t. I’m fine. Stay and chat with your friends. I promised to ride home with Eloise. You know how she tires easily.
I’m sure she’s ready to leave now.”

Callie grabbed his arm as he attempted to follow her. “Do stay with me, Ewan. Miss Farthingale doesn’t want our company. Isn’t it obvious?” She said something in Gaelic that Lily didn’t understand, but it drew a gale of laughter from her uncle and a Gaelic response from Ewan. Though Lily didn’t understand Ewan’s response either, she knew he wouldn’t indulge in a jest at her expense. Nevertheless, she was made to feel like the outsider.

What had she thought? That he’d magically kiss her in a scented garden under a silver moon?

She turned on her heels and started up the terrace steps to return to the music room, and then realized Archie was following just steps behind her. Which meant Ewan and Callie were alone in the cool breeze and carpet of shimmering stars. Great. Just perfect. Ewan was going to kiss that Scottish predator in the moonlight.
My moonlight.

It wasn’t fair.

It was an English moon.
My moon.
Not Callie’s.

EWAN PAUSED OUTSIDE
of Desmond’s townhouse in
Kensington
the following afternoon. It seemed elegant on the surface, but a closer inspection revealed early signs of wear around the window frames and paint beginning to peel around the lintels. Were his
cousins hurting for
funds? He had no doubt that their grandfather kept tight control of the purse strings, providing just enough to allow them to maintain
the appearance of comfort, but never enough to grant them any freedom from his domination.

The door opened as he approached. An elderly butler ushered him in, his steps achingly slow as he settled Ewan in the salon, and
then inched across the room, back into the entry hall, and up the staircase
with the speed of a snail to see if his master was home to visitors. Ewan, never a patient man on his best days, wanted to haul the old man
over his shoulder and carry him upstairs himself. It was the only
way he’d have the answers he desired before nightfall.

Evangeline returned home while he waited, obviously having
come from a shopping trip. He was never happier to see his younger cousin. Though only a year or two older than Meggie, the strain in her
eyes made her appear substantially older. She was still a beautiful girl—
or would be, if she ever learned to smile. “Let me
help you with those packages,” he said, startling her.

She glowered at him, her cheeks pink from a mix of the cool outdoors and anger on finding him standing in her home. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to sort things out between us, and to correct any idle gossip you may have heard about last night.”

“To correct it? Or to gloat?” She drew away when he reached for her packages. One appeared to hold dishes and the other was shaped like a teapot. No personal items, just the functional sort that
would be set out in a cupboard display.

He sighed and took them from her anyway. “Where do they go?”

“In the dining room.” Her lips began to quiver and she was
obviously about to cry.

He sighed again. “Summon your brother down here. I think
your butler died along the way. Not sure he made it up the stairs.” He drew aside one of the dining room chairs and settled into it. “I’ll wait here, Evie.”

That use of her name drew him back fifteen years. It surprised her as well. “What do you want with us? You’ve won, Ewan. Why can’t you leave us alone?”

“I haven’t won anything. Nor do I wish for anything from our grandfather. By the way, I’m sorry I broke Desmond’s nose.”

Evangline nodded. “He shouldn’t have struck your friend. Lily.
Is that her name? He didn’t mean to, but she stepped between him
and Meggie... it just happened. And he told me he’d seen you at
Tattersalls. I know he stood by while those villains punched the stuffing out of you. He didn’t know they wielded knives. He would have helped you had he realized you were in serious danger.”

Ewan doubted it.

“Bring him down here, Evie. We’re even now. Here’s our chance to start over.”

“I wish I could believe you.” However, she turned and left the room, her step light on the stairs as she scrambled up them to fetch her brother.

Desmond wasn’t nearly as hopeful or polite. “Get the hell out of here, Ewan.”

“Sit down,” Ewan ordered as though this were his home and they were the guests. He wasn’t trying to belittle his cousins, but he’d come here to talk and
damn it
, that’s precisely what he was
going to do. “You ought to know Grandfather better than anyone. When have you ever
seen him be kind or gracious to his kinfolk? To anyone, for that
matter. He never is, unless he has an ulterior motive.”

“He has a motive.” Desmond grabbed a chair, swung it out and settled into it. Though his movements were tense and angry, Ewan took his decision to sit as a good sign. “He wants to make you duke and leave me to rot.”

“I doubt it.”

“He’s had years in which to make me his heir and hasn’t done it,” Desmond insisted. “Not when my father died. Not after your father died. I’ve helped him with the Lotheil affairs for years. I’ve
worked hard and done a damn good job, but nothing I do is ever quite good enough for him.”

“I think he’s trying to manipulate both of us. Even if he does
offer, I won’t accept. He knows it.”

“Hah! Am I supposed to believe you? Am I to ignore the gossip now spreading like a wildfire about town? He doted on Meggie at the Simmington musicale, showered her with attention and every courtesy. He introduced her as his granddaughter.”

“She is his granddaughter.”

Desmond pounded his fist on the table. “So is Evie, but he didn’t invite her to join you, or send a carriage around to deliver her to the Simmingtons.”

Ewan felt badly about that. Not even he had thought to call on
Evie and bring her along, nor had he bothered to make arrangements for Eloise to pick her up. He couldn’t have asked Lily, not after what Desmond did to her. But had he asked, she would have agreed. Unlike his grandfather, Lily was sweet-natured and loving. She would have helped him win back his family, whether she liked them or not. “You’re right, Des. To my shame, I didn’t think beyond getting myself over there before the blasted party ended. It won’t happen
again. I promise you. Until you’re healed, I’ll take care of Evie.”

He noticed the flicker of surprise in Evangeline’s eyes, perhaps a ray of hope in their sad depths. Damn it. Why hadn’t his father interceded sooner?

Desmond’s expression darkened. “We don’t need your charity.”

“I’m not offering any. We’re family. If Evie needs an escort, let her send word to me and I’ll provide it.” Ewan turned to her. “Truly, Evie. You’re welcome to join—”

“She’s
my
sister.” Desmond was now out of his chair and rounding the table toward him, hands curled into fists at his sides.
“I’ll take care of her. Do you think I’d ever trust her in your care? You who wish to disgrace us in the eyes of our grandfather?”

Ewan hadn’t expected it to be easy, so he was prepared for his
cousin’s accusations. “I know it will take time to heal our family.”

“Time?” He shook his head and let out a sad laugh. “It will
never happen.”

Ewan rose to face him, trying not to wince at how truly pathetic Desmond looked with that stark white bandage across his nose and the deep purple and yellow bruises under his eyes. “It will. I don’t blame you for doubting me. My father ought to have stepped in after your own father died, but he didn’t. He allowed the old man to take you in, knowing all the while the damage he might cause. I know what that old bastard has done to you and I’m trying to fix it. Give me the chance.”

“There’s nothing to fix.” Desmond’s hands were still balled into fists, but his tone was strained and revealed his desperation despite his best efforts to maintain that angry facade.

Ewan’s heart twisted into knots. His cousins were suffering, yet too proud to admit it. Not that he blamed them. Were he in their position, the sky could have collapsed on his head and he wouldn’t
have uttered a word. “Evie, I’m at your service whenever you need it. Have you made arrangements to attend Lady Dayne’s dinner party? I know you were on the guest list.”

“I won’t be going.” She nibbled her lip. “I’ll send word to Eloise right now.”

“Don’t. Come with us. Please.” Ewan wondered if she had a proper gown to wear, but he didn’t have the heart to ask. The mere question would have utterly destroyed her. In any event, she’d been fashionably dressed in their prior encounters. Clothes weren’t the
problem. Their
grandfather and his cruel manipulations were. “Don’t let
Grandfather win, Evie. Meggie and I will come round at seven to pick you up.”

Desmond glanced at his sister, his jaw in a spasm as he sought to contain himself, but his love for Evie was obvious. He didn’t wish to deprive her of anything, and they both knew Evie wanted to go to the party. “Go with him, Evie. I don’t give a damn. I’ll be here for you when you come home in tears.”