Royal's Bride (11 page)

Her breath caught as she recognized the Bransford ducal seal on the side, the gilt paint worn off in several places.

Then Royal opened the door and descended the narrow iron stairs like a golden god come to earth and walked right up in front of her. Her heartbeat quickened and inside her gloves, her palms went damp. How could she have forgotten in so short a time how utterly magnificent he was?

Lily dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.” She rose and looked into his handsome face. “I—I thought you weren’t arriving in town until tomorrow.”

“I’ve been in London several days. I have a meeting with my future father-in-law on the morrow.”

“Yes, I know.” The rain was beginning to fall more heavily, forming a spray of droplets on her taffeta skirt.

Royal looked up at the darkening sky, the dense clouds roiling overhead. “Come,” he commanded in that soft-firm voice of his. “It is beginning to rain quite hard. I’ll give you a lift to wherever it is you’re going.”

She could hardly refuse. Accepting the hand he offered, she climbed the carriage steps and settled herself inside, fluffing out her skirts mostly to have something to keep her hands occupied.

Royal sat down in the seat across from her, stretching his long legs out in front of him as best he could. “So where, then, are you off to?”

“Actually, I planned to stop somewhere for a bite to eat and celebrate my recent good fortune, then head back to the Caulfields’.”

Those golden-brown eyes fixed on her face. The edge of his mouth began to curve, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. She tried not to recall that day in the maze, the feel of his lips moving so hotly over hers, but it was impossible to do. She prayed he wouldn’t notice the faint color rising in her cheeks.

“So if I may ask, what good fortune were you planning to celebrate?”

She thought of the shop she had just rented and couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “I am opening a millinery shop, just as I’ve always dreamed. I just finalized the lease. It becomes effective tomorrow.”

He smiled and a dimple she hadn’t noticed before appeared in his right cheek. Dear Lord, it simply wasn’t fair for a man to look that good.

“My heartiest congratulations, Miss Moran. I know how much this means to you. I wish you the utmost success.”

“Thank you.”

“And you’re right—you deserve to celebrate. I shall take you to luncheon and we shall celebrate together.”

Her heart kicked up another notch. She gazed down at the reticule she clutched in her lap. “I—I don’t think that is a very good notion, Your Grace. Someone might see us. What would the Caulfields say?”

His eyebrows, a darker shade than his golden hair, pulled slightly together. “I suppose you are right. It would be highly unseemly, considering I am about to become engaged. Still, I am yet a free man…”

He looked at her as if he tried to decide how far he should go. Then the gold in his eyes seemed to glitter and his mouth turned up at the corners. “There is a place I know, a small restaurant not far from here. There are a number of private rooms and the food is quite delicious. The owner is a friend of mine. We can go in through the backdoor. What do you say?”

N
o
, was the proper reply. It was madness to accompany him, madness for him to ask. “Yes,” is what Lily said. “I would be delighted to accompany you to luncheon.”

Royal flashed a brilliant, white smile. “All right, then.” Rapping on the roof, he slid open the panel beneath the driver’s box and commanded the coachman to take him to the Fox and Hen in Mulberry Street. “Drive round to the back,” he finished.

They arrived a few minutes later and Royal helped her down from the coach and escorted her inside. The owner, a thin, black-haired, mustached man, appeared out of nowhere.

“Your Grace,” the man said, beaming at the duke’s arrival. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“You as well, Antonio.”

Antonio flicked a glance at Lily, but kept his attention fixed on the duke. “I’ve a nice dining room for you just down the hall.” His mustache turned up. “The special today is steak and kidney pie. If you will please follow me.”

Though she could hear the sound of patrons rattling glassware and dishes in the main dining hall and servants bustled past, Lily grew more nervous, not quite sure what to expect. The room into which Antonio led them behind a gold velvet curtain was comfortably furnished with a table and two padded benches in an L shape along the walls. Clearly more happened in the private rooms than just eating.

As the man departed and the curtain fell behind him, Lily gazed at the intimate surroundings and blushed.

“It’s all right,” Royal said softly, guiding her over to take a seat. “I didn’t bring you here to ravish you—though I cannot deny the notion intrigues me far too much.”

Lily looked up at him. “I trust you, Royal.” The name just popped out. “I—I’m sorry, Your Grace. That was quite inappropriate.”

“Please…don’t apologize. I like the way my name sounds when you say it. Besides, we are friends, are we not?”

She smiled broadly, relieved and beginning to feel once more at ease. “Why, yes, we are. And today we are celebrating.”

“Indeed, we are.” From that time on, the duke was careful to keep the conversation light. They ordered the special steak and kidney pie for lunch, along with a bottle of wine. Royal proposed a toast to her success and each of them took a drink.

“So where were you headed when you came across me getting soaked in the rain?” Lily asked between bites of the delicious food.

“On my way to a meeting with a man I hired, an in
vestigator. He has been looking into a terrible fraud that was perpetrated against my father.”

“Good grief. What happened?”

Royal hesitated only a moment before launching into the tale. The two of them had always had a certain ease of conversation between them and apparently that hadn’t changed. He explained how a man named Preston Loomis had preyed on his father after he was taken ill and managed to steal a large portion of the duke’s fortune.

Lily was outraged. “This man, Loomis, is nothing more than a confidence artist. A sophisticated version of a man like my uncle Jack.”

Royal shook his head. “I’ll never see a nickel of our money returned, I don’t imagine. There is no possible way I could ever get it back. Still, I am determined to see justice done.”

The words rolled through her, opened some part of her mind she had carefully locked away. Old memories stirred to life of the years she had spent with her uncle, shams he had invented, schemes they had managed to pull off. Nothing so incredibly bold as stealing a man’s entire fortune, but still…

“I wonder…” she mused aloud, but let the thought trail away. Royal drained the last of his wine and set the empty goblet down on the table.

“What is it you wondered, Lily? Go on, you don’t have to feel shy with me. Tell me what you were going to say.”

Her chin came up. “All right, I will. You said there was no way to get the money back, but I was wondering if there might not be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I haven’t seen my uncle in years, but I am certain I could find him. Unless he got involved in something that required him to leave the area, Uncle Jack never strays far from his old neighborhood. He feels safe there.”

“I’m afraid I am still not following you.”

“Well, I couldn’t help thinking that if this man Loomis swindled your father out of his money, why couldn’t we figure out a way to swindle him out of his?”

Royal laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners. His laughter slowly faded. “You are serious.”

She shrugged. “It was probably a ridiculous notion…” And yet she was already beginning to sort through possibilities. She summoned her courage. “I think we should talk to my uncle. He might know a way. I am sure he has never gone after anything remotely this big, but with your help and mine, we might find a way.”

“And your uncle would help us because…?”

“Because he loves me and because you would be willing to cut him in for a percentage of whatever you might get back.”

Royal just stared.

Lily felt hot color rising in her cheeks. “I am sorry. I tried to tell you before that I wasn’t what I seemed. I apologize for bringing this up. Of course, you wouldn’t wish to do anything illegal. I have shocked you and—”

“I want to meet him.”

“What?”

“Your uncle. I want to meet him. Can you arrange it?”

“I—I am not sure, but I think so.”

“I want Preston Loomis brought to justice. I can think of no richer justice than for him to lose at least some portion of the money he stole from my family.”
He reached over and caught her gloved hand, brought it to his lips. “And you are exactly what you seem, Lily Moran. You are sweet and caring, and you are sincere. I appreciate your friendship and any help you might be able to give me.”

Something burned behind her eyes. Lily managed a wobbly smile, then took a steadying breath and straightened in her seat. “I shall begin looking for my uncle immediately. Once I find him, I will send word. Where are you staying?”

“My town house in Berkeley Square.”

“A note to you there, then.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “What time is your meeting?”

He followed her gaze to the hands on the porcelain face of the clock. “Half an hour. I suppose I had better get you home.”

Royal rose and helped her to her feet. Leaving several coins on the table, he guided her out the back way into the alley where his big black coach sat waiting. He gave instructions to his driver, then helped her climb in and settled himself on the seat across from her.

The curtains were drawn to keep in the warmth. The flickering light of the carriage lamps made the red velvet interior far too intimate, and for several moments neither of them spoke. The only sound was the patter of the rain on the roof and the churning of the carriage wheels.

Lily did her best to think of Royal as her future cousin-in-law, but when she remembered the feel of his mouth over hers, his silky hair brushing her fingers as her arms went round his neck, it was impossible to do.

It was close inside the carriage, their knees brushing slightly, her full skirts wrapping around his long legs.
Lily found herself fascinated by the length of them, the muscles outlined beneath the snug fit of his trousers. Her gaze moved upward, over his dark brown tailcoat, then higher. When she looked into his face, Royal’s gaze locked with hers, and his nostrils flared.

The atmosphere inside the coach began to change. A subtle tension crackled in the air that seemed to thicken and swell around them. Lily’s heart pounded. She nervously moistened her lips, and Royal’s whole body went taut.

“Lily…” he said, and then he was moving, reaching for her, lifting her off the seat and onto his lap. “I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s wrong, but God forgive me, I can’t help myself.” And then he kissed her and every other thought simply faded.

A small sound escaped and her hands fluttered up to settle on his shoulders. Royal deepened the kiss and sweet fire rolled through her. Any notion of resistance slipped completely away and Lily kissed him back, opening to allow him entrance, pleasure swamping her at the slick feel of his tongue. He took her deeply, drinking her up as if he had an insatiable thirst only she could quench. Lily felt light-headed, her body awash with sensation.

Hot kisses followed, seemed to have no end. Royal untied her bonnet and tossed it onto the seat beside her, framed her face with his hand and kissed her deeply again.

Trembling, Lily swayed against him, her breasts swelling, her nipples budding and beginning to throb. She didn’t realize he had untied her pelisse and pulled it away, then unbuttoned the back of her gown until the dress tipped forward and he lowered his head and captured one of her breasts in his mouth.

Lily whimpered. Her fingers combed through his hair as he suckled her, tugging gently, his teeth lightly grazing her nipple. Dear God, the most exquisite sensations burned through her. Her body seemed to catch fire and there was no way to put out the blaze. Lily clutched Royal’s shoulders and arched her back, giving him better access.

“Lovely,” he whispered, pressing kisses against her tingling flesh as he nipped and tasted. “Exquisite as ripe fruit, even more perfect than I imagined.”

Lily gasped for breath and clung to him, silently urging him on, and he turned his attention to her other breast, laving and tasting with the same gentle care as before. Her body tingled, dampened, pulsed with hot need.

A noise sounded above them. “We’re almost there, Yer Grace,” the coachman called down.

Royal’s concentration didn’t falter. “Keep driving. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

When she opened her mouth to protest, he silenced her with a deep, drugging kiss. For an instant, she kissed him back, breathing him in, reveling in the feel of being in his arms. But the present had begun to intrude. Realty could no longer be denied and harsh reason doused the flames of her desire.

Breathing hard, her heart pounding as if she had been running some mad race, she pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him away.

“Royal, please…we…we have to stop.”

He bent to kiss her again, but Lily turned away. “We…we can’t do this, Royal.”

He blinked, seemed to awaken from a deep erotic dream. Slowly his mind began to clear. “Lily…”

“We have to stop, Royal. We can’t go on any longer.”

He shuddered, pulling himself back from wherever he had been, raking a hand through his thick golden hair, shoving it back from his forehead. “No…no, of course not.” His jaw clenched as if he was in pain. With unsteady hands, he turned her back to him and refastened the small pearl buttons closing up her gown. He drew her pelisse back into place and reached for her bonnet.

Lily took it from his grasp with shaking hands and pulled it on over the disheveled mass of her pale blond hair.

Royal set her back on the seat across from him, his jaw iron hard. “I know I should apologize. I know this never should have happened. But it did, and I cannot say I am sorry.”

Lily stared up at him, torn by guilt and despair, trying to hold back tears. “We mustn’t…mustn’t be alone together again.”

A muscle flexed in his cheek. “I know.” He started to reach for her hand, then caught himself. “If things were different…if the course of my life weren’t already set…”

Lily swallowed. “Please take me home, Royal.”

His eyes held hers a moment more, then he nodded. Reaching up, he rapped on the roof of the carriage, then shoved open the panel below the driver’s box. “Take us back, Mason. Stop a block before you get to Meadowbrook.”

“Aye, Yer Grace.”

Lily closed her eyes against the sharp ache in her chest and leaned back against the velvet seat. She had been so happy. How could a day of celebration end up being so full of pain?

Lily wished she never had to see him again. It would be so much easier. But no matter how guilty she felt for what she had done, she had promised to help him and, like the duke himself, Lily wasn’t one to break her word.

Dressing early the following morning in a simple gray wool dress, the hood of her cloak pulled over her head against the light wind and drizzle, she set off for an area in St. Giles, a rookery between Farley and Bunbury Lane. She was returning to the small flat above the Fat Ox Tavern she and her uncle had occupied six years ago, before he left her in the care of her cousins.

She had no idea if he would still be living there, but Jack Moran was a man of habit and likely he would be somewhere in the neighborhood.

Lily closed the iron gate in front of the Caulfields’ mansion and walked along the street until she came to a corner where she could hail a hansom cab. She waited until she spotted an old horse plodding along the road and waved the conveyance down, then gave the driver directions to the area to which she wished to go.

The man, long-haired with a pockmarked complexion, cast her a look that asked why in the world she wished to go to a place like that, but made no comment, just waited for her to climb in, slapped the reins on the ancient horse’s rump, and the cab lurched into motion.

It took a while to get there, traveling at the speed of a snail, but eventually she began to recognize familiar surroundings. A weathered board walkway in front of a line of run-down houses, a gin shop named the Blue Ruin, a blacksmith shop ringing with the pounding of
an anvil. It wasn’t a very good neighborhood, but it was better than some.