Authors: Owner
bastard.
He swore under his breath and pulled away from her. “You will regret that
foolish act!” he threatened.
“No more than I regret anything else,” she spat and felt the carriage begin
to slow. Before he could grab her or hurt her, she managed to open the door
and jumped out as the wheels came to a slow halt.
Fleeing, she heard the door swing and bang against the vehicle, caught the
sounds of him cursing and swearing at her, but Lily ignored him and simply
continued to run. Run until she was on the grounds of her uncle's property
and she could once more enter through her usual entry point.
She did not have time to allow her emotions to overtake her, for were she to
allow them to overcome her, she would simply curl into a ball and die! Lily
knew that release would come only when she had traveled through the
house, from the servants' area to her rooms. Only then, in the privacy of her
quarters, would she even be able to think of expressing her heartbreak.
With her back to the door, a low keening cry escaped her throat so deep that
her belly ached from the piercing sound. She crumpled soon after, her body
slumping against the wooden surface and slowly tumbling downwards so
that she lay in a broken heap on the floor.
Her mouth worked, processing silent sounds. Gasps fluttered the orifice as
she tried to assimilate . . . tried to comprehend . . . . But there was nothing
to comprehend. Everything she had done, it had been entirely unnecessary.
Her mother had never been in danger. It had not been of vital urgency to
seduce the Earl to keep her mama safe and sound. And as she had done just
that, and followed the blackmailer's commands, Lily now knew why this
entire charade had been pieced together . . . to destroy the man she loved.
The man she was sure loved her in return.
Their love was to be used against Dorian, to weaken and further hurt him, to
damage him and his faith in humanity, in women. After this, any faith or
trust he had would be completely annihilated.
Suddenly she knew that she had to tell him first, that she could not allow her
blackmailer to share the bare bones of what lay behind her reasons for
visiting him. That Dorian would believe the bastard, she did not doubt. Love
could only do so much. It was time that healed the wounds, and Dorian had
not experienced enough of her love to cure the wounds that Camille's
presence in his life had created. He was still raw and open to distrust, for he
did not know better. Anything, anything that could be said against her in
malice would take root. She knew it like she knew her reflection in the
looking glass.
How Lily wished that when she had had the opportunity to speak the truth,
she had taken it. When the words had hovered on her mouth, she wished
that she had spoken them and made him listen to her part and hear that she
loved him, that her feelings for him, more than anything else, counted.
But she hadn't. She'd been a coward and now found herself in this sorry
state of affairs. It seemed ridiculous to have been afraid of losing him when
now she had done just that. He was lost, forever lost to her, and there
wasn't a damn thing that could be done to change that.
Silent tears coursed over her cheeks and she rolled on to her back as she
stared upwards at the ceiling. Her room was dark but the fire had been set
and still flickered. The shadowed wainscoting seemed to absorb all of her
attention for endless moments, but, in truth, she was staring blindly and
seeking hope.
Ridiculous perhaps, for was the situation not hopeless? But it was either that
or curl into a pained and agonizing ball of distress?
The only hope that seemed in sight was to approach him herself. The
thought had her curling upwards with a pensive expression cast on her
features. Why not indeed?
The blackmailer had said that he wanted her to never see Dorian again, but
why should that matter for aught? Had he not also said that he had never
intended to hurt her mama? And what could he do to her now? The one
thing that she could possibly prevent if she was to speak to Dorian first.
Of course, there was the threat to her reputation.
But again, that did not matter a damn to her. Why should it?
She had met the love of her life, and, if he would not have her, she did not
care if her name was blackened by the ton. Neither would Devlin, who had
spent the majority of his life in the same state and sadly her mother would
not even know! If the truth were to enter society, it wouldn't matter to her.
She would gladly return home with a sullied reputation, if Dorian were to
reject her overtures!
But he couldn't. He wouldn't. She would simply have to persuade him that
her words of love were the truth. That regardless of her reason behind their
midnight meetings, she had come to love him and would love him until the
end of time. She would have to convince him that part of their rendezvous
was not a lie.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a few deep and cleansing breaths. When
she reached a level of normalcy, she forced herself on to her feet and
quickly stripped down to her chemise and hurried into bed. She had to
awaken early. She had to be awake to be able to visit Dorian first thing and
Janie, after today's illness, would not be the one to awaken her. She would
leave Lily to sleep.
Rolling on to the bed, Lily tried to dispel the memories of her conversation
with her blackmailer and also tried to forget his image . . . the presence of
both in her mind were not conducive to a good night's rest and were she to
be awake with the next four hours, she would need just that.
Before her eyes closed and she drifted off, she prayed to God that Dorian
would believe her and more importantly, forgive her.
****
settled against the hard cushions with a grimace. It displeased him greatly
that she had seen his face. He had taken care throughout the entire
proceedings when dealing with Lily Mercer to keep his face hidden. It had
enabled him to keep an eye on her throughout all the society occasions she
had attended. Now he would have to be very cautious.
Damn it.
He tried not to recall her complete and utter lack of recognition, for it would
do his ego no good at all. But almost as though his pride took relish in it, he
knew that she had not remembered him at all. Not one ounce of recollection
had been imprinted on her features.
Had they not danced together? Had they not conversed at her come out?
It appeared that they had, but only in William's imagination!
A scowl lit his features and he lifted his cane and tapped it against the
carriage's ceiling. The horses were soon knocked into shape and the vehicle
took off in the same path they had only recently just traversed. Dorian's
house was the ultimate destination, and William took pleasure in the
realization that his dreams would soon find culmination.
Soon, he would be the Lord. The Earl with the gold and the titles to proceed
him, with the position in society and ability to do whatever the hell he
wanted and damn the tabbies.
In truth, he should have had all of this years before. Had that stupid whore
Camille not entirely ruined his plans, then he would be the Earl and he
wouldn't be wasting his time destroying Dorian's life, for it would already
have been destroyed and the man would be dead and buried, gone
forevermore.
He pursed his lips and lifted his arm to scrub a hand over his face. He was
tired, dead tired. And now was not the time to be feeling entirely uncertain
as to whether his plan would bear fruit. He recalled a conversation where he
had witnessed the lows to which Dorian had sunk and this plot had spread
directly from that point.
Dorian had been drunk and maudlin. William had seen how close he'd been
to the edge. He'd decided at that point, to push himself over the precipice.
While it had seemed unimaginative to use the same plot against him,
William had decided that only his cousin's stupid whore of a wife had been
the ruin of his plans, not the plot itself.
When he'd met Camille, prodded her into falling in love with him, then
tupped her and ultimately, impregnated her, he'd known that the girl had
been in the very palm of his hands, ripe for the plucking and equally as ripe
for manipulation. William had known that Dorian would find Camille's starry-
eyed beauty appealing and so had delicately told her that even though she
was carrying his babe, he couldn't marry her due to the lack of funds. He'd
then managed to persuade her to entice Dorian and a marriage between the
two of them had quickly ensued and all without much hassle. Camille had
been a foolish girl, lacking in brains and so distraught by the situation she
had found herself in, unmarried and with a babe in her belly, that she had
been relieved to have a solution.
She had believed him when he'd told her that they could be together later,
that when his plans would come to the fore, they'd be wealthy and their
child would be the heir to all of that wealth and power. And she had believed
him, the stupid, stupid chit.
It had all been going according to schedule and then the stupid bitch had
died during childbirth and all of his plans had unraveled. He had been right
at the very beginning again. When he thought of the time he'd wasted, it
still angered him.
For a while, yes, Dorian had been distressed, it hadn't been enough for him
to do anything drastic. His plans had indeed come to naught, but a part of
him had hoped, in vain, that Dorian would expire from a broken heart and
do William a favor by killing himself.
Sadly that had not happened. And now, William could only hope that the
grief of Camille's death combined with the added stress of losing another
love would finally push him over the edge!
The carriage finally came to a halt and a surge of relish erupted through
him. They'd arrived and he had finally arrived at the point for which he'd
been waiting for over a decade. But he would have to tread softly. It would
do no good to simply walk in there with a melodramatic tale. It would be far
better to be cautious and cause damage by merely planting a seed of doubt.
From the one seed, an entire forest would grow and, with it, Dorian's
demise.
Jumping out of the coach with glee, he walked down the path that led to
Dorian's, soon to be his, townhouse and unlocked the door with a key that
one of his cousin's footmen had given him a few months ago. He stepped
into the hallway and strode down it towards the study where he intended to
sit until Dorian awoke in the morning and came down to see to his papers.
William opened the door and stepped through it, coming to an abrupt halt as
he spied Dorian sleeping on the floor before the fire. Hiding a malicious grin,
he gently closed the door and walked towards the armchairs. Taking a seat,
he watched as within moments Dorian began to stir and rolled to a sitting
position with a bleary yawn.
“William?”
“Yes, cousin.”
“It isn't that I don't appreciate the visit, William, but what time is it?”
He smiled slowly. “Time I told you the truth, Dorian. That's what time it is.”
Dorian frowned and stood, using his blanket to cover himself from the waist
down. “The truth? What are you talking about?”
“You do realize, don't you, that she was just after a wealthy husband.”
“Who? Camille?”
William snorted. “No. The Mercer chit.”
Dorian tilted his head to the side. “Lily Mercer?”
“Yes. Have you heard the rumor?”
“No, what rumor?”
“Devlin's pissed the fortune down the drain,” he lied easily.
Dorian laughed. “Don't be ridiculous! It would take a damned sight more
than two years to piss away the Mercer fortune!”
He waved a nonchalant hand. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“How do you even know I've been . . . with the Mercer girl?”
“Dorian, I just saw her leaving!” he further fabricated. “Why do you think
I'm even telling you this story? Gossip is hardly your best friend. When I saw
her leaving and obviously in a state of . . . well, shall we say, undress? I
knew that I had to come to you and tell you to get away from her! She'll
only cause you more pain.”
“What are you even doing here?” asked Dorian with a glaring scowl.
“I needed to talk with you about a business deal and know that you rarely
sleep nowadays. What better time to discuss my proposition with you?”
Dorian grinned. “Ah, but those days are gone.”
William tutted. “Haven't you heard a word I've been saying?”
“Lily is hardly a mercenary bitch, William!”
“They all are, Dorian. They all are.”
“Not Lily.”
He cocked a brow. “Have I not told you that she is seeking a wealthy
husband?”
“She has dowry aplenty, William. It is more than likely separate from the
family's main fortune, so even if Devlin has wasted it all on the gaming
tables . . . it won't touch her!”
“Still . . . it must make you question her, surely?”