Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend (4 page)

When the door opened, she calmly aimed and fired. The pistol jerked back, the sound deafening her, and the force of the explosion making her arm sting. A man screamed, and the carriage door slammed shut again.

“She’s got a pistol!”

That’s right.
Lily’s hand was shaking, but she immediately bent to prime her weapon again. It was difficult with her hand shaking and powder falling on her skirts, but she would show these men she was no easy target. She could hear them whispering outside the conveyance. Their voices were farther away, and then all was quiet. She held the pistol in her hand, poised to fire again. When she heard the banging, she jumped. They were nailing the doors shut again. Good. She was not safe yet. But it bought her some time.

Quite a lot of time, as it turned out. She tried to remain vigilant, but she was tired and hungry, and her eyes glazed over when the black of the carriage began to fade to a subtle gray light. Suddenly, she snapped to attention. She looked around, disoriented.

“Up here, little girl.”

Lily looked up and cursed under her breath. She’d forgotten the hatch. It wasn’t large enough for a man to fit through, but a man was peering down at her now, a pistol in his hand and aimed at her heart. He grinned. His front teeth were black, and one of his incisors was missing. His scrubby beard and stringy brown hair framed a gaunt face marred with old scars and fresher wounds.

“Now, do as I say, and no one gets hurt.”

“I rather doubt I will not be hurt.”

He grinned wider. “My way, you have a fighting chance.”

Not much of a chance, but she had to take it.

“Hand me yer pistol.” He narrowed his eyes. “And no tricks.” He shifted his body and pushed his hand into the carriage. Lily looked at her pistol and looked at the hand. It was grimy, dirt under the blunt fingernails, the ratty wool coat dirty and stained. “I’m goin’ t’count to three, and then I’m goin’ t’shoot you. Somewhere painful where it won’t kill you.”

Lily blew out a breath and slapped the pistol into his hand.

“Got it!” he said, raising his prize triumphantly. When he moved, she could see the streak of light in the sky behind him. It was just past dawn.

As soon as the man spoke, his companions went to work removing the board from the door again. It came off easily, and the door was thrown open. Lily stared at three grinning men—the man from the hatch and two others who looked just liked him. All three were thin and dirty—and leering.

If the other door hadn’t been sealed shut, she would have escaped that way, but as it was, there was one entrance and one exit. The men studied Lily, and she stared back. Her fear warned her to run, to try and escape. She ignored the instinct and waited. Let them strike first.

It didn’t take long. A man with matted red hair reached for her, and Lily kicked out, striking him in the jaw. He fell back and came up roaring. Wildly, he reached for her again, and she easily evaded him, managing another kick at his chest. But the third time she was not so fortunate. He caught her foot and dragged her off the squabs. She landed unceremoniously on the floor of the carriage, and the men caught hold of her legs and dragged her out.

Lily went limp, allowing them to think she’d given up or fainted. As soon as she hit the grass outside the carriage, the men released her and stepped back.

“I’m first,” one of them said.

“I got her out.”

“I got her pistol. I’m first.”

Lily rolled, cutting her foot across the knees of the man who had spoken. He wobbled and went down as Lily jumped to her feet. She threw soil in the face of one of the men gaping at her and slammed her elbow into the face of the man kneeling before her. With a quick swipe, she had her pistol back. She held the pistol straight out, trying to keep her arms from shaking. “Now who’s first?” As she spoke, she assessed her surroundings. There was an abandoned cottage behind the men and a copse of sparse trees lining the road behind her. The trees would provide just enough cover that she couldn’t expect anyone traveling past them to see her, especially since the sky was still pewter gray.

The boy with the red hair sneered at her. “You have one shot. Kill one of us, and there’s still two more to take revenge.”

The man kneeling wobbled to his feet and extracted his pistol from his belt.

“Shoot her and be done with it,” the third man said. He was the shortest and looked barely one and twenty.

“Idiot,” the man with the pistol said. “She’s worth more alive than dead. We could ransom her. That gentry cove thought she was worth something.”

“Or you could return me to London,” Lily suggested, “and we forget all of this happened.”

“I don’t think so,” the redhead said.

Lily shrugged. It was worth a try. “Fine. Then my original query still stands. Who wants to be first?” Without waiting for the men to respond or react, she swiveled to the biggest threat—the man with the pistol—and fired. The shot went a little wide, and the ball hit his shoulder instead of his chest. The force was enough to push him backward and to grab the attention of his companions. Lily took advantage of the distraction, hurled her pistol at the men, lifted her skirts, and ran for the road in the distance.

She was wearing a ball gown and slippers. Even if she were an extremely fast runner, she wouldn’t outrun the men coming after her. Her only hope was to flag down another conveyance traveling this road. She emerged through the small brush of trees and ran for what she hoped was London. She could hear footsteps behind her, but was it her imagination or did she hear hoofbeats ahead?

Please. Please. Please.

Suddenly a coach was upon her. The horses reared, and Lily raised a hand and threw herself out of the way. She tumbled off the road, tasting blood and dirt in her mouth. When she looked up, the coach had stopped. The rising sun was behind it, blinding her and making everything in front of the carriage appear dark. The carriage door flew open, and a man in black boots stepped out, his black opera cape swirling around him, his tall hat hiding his face. This man was wealthy—a gentleman if his dress was any indication. She squinted into the light, but she couldn’t make out any distinct features. Two of her abductors were on the road, but they’d slowed now, as the man stood before her, hands on his hips. “What is the meaning of this?” He gestured to her.

Lily shook her head and tried to rise. Her ears were ringing.

“It’s the rich nob from London,” one of the men said. Lily’s heart faltered. She was not saved after all. This man was in collusion with the other two.

“I paid you to delay her, not to abduct and assault her.”

“You wanted her out of the way. She’s out of the way,” the red-haired man said.

“I am not pleased,” the gentleman said and gestured to his outriders. The last thing Lily saw before she closed her eyes were her abductors running for their lives and men in what looked very much like the Duke of Ravenscroft’s livery in pursuit.

“That’s enough,” Andrew said to his outriders. “Enough!”

His men stepped back, straightening their coats. The three men who’d abducted Lily were lying on the ground. One had been wounded from a pistol ball, but the wound did not appear fatal. The other two probably wished they had been shot. But Andrew left them alive with minor injuries that would heal after a few days. That was more courtesy than they would have shown Lily.

“If I ever see you—any of you—in Town again, I won’t stop my men from ripping you apart.” He walked away, back toward the carriage. In his hand, he held a small, feminine pistol inlaid with sapphires. It had to be Lily’s, but he would never have expected her to carry such a weapon. If Fallon had a pistol or twenty, he would not be surprised. But Lily… would she even know what to do with a pistol? Had she actually shot that thug, or had there been some sort of misfiring accident? His coachman met him in front of his conveyance, concern on his face.

“How is she?” Andrew asked without preamble.

“I put her in the coach, my lord. She was able to walk unassisted.”

“Good. Then she is unharmed?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Andrew started for his coach again but paused when his coachman cleared his throat. “She seems a little… perturbed, my lord.”

“I can imagine.” Andrew continued walking.

“At you, my lord.”

“Well, that seems monstrously unfair.” And it was just like a woman. She had probably wanted to rescue herself, or some nonsense like that.

“Yes, my lord.”

Andrew paused at the carriage door. “As soon as the men are ready, we hie back to London. Have one of the grooms take the lady’s carriage horses back. Slowly.” He opened the door and found Lily immediately. She was sitting, arms crossed, on the seat opposite him.

“Countess.” He tipped his hat.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Very well. Good morning, Lily.”

“How is it you possess the gall to speak to me? You are despicable.”

“I assume you blame me for the events of the evening.” He climbed inside and closed the door. He did not wish for his servants to overhear the exchange.

She drummed her fingers on her arms, and he noticed she’d removed her gloves, and her elbows and forearms were scraped and bloody.

“Are you not the one responsible for my abduction?”

“I wouldn’t call it an abduction…” At least her face was not marred. Her dress was beyond repair, though. Should he offer to replace it? One look at her stony expression decided him against such a course of action. “I did not intend for events to progress as they did.”

“Yes, that is the problem with criminals,” Lily said drily. “They are not very good at following the rules.”

“In my defense, I did come to save you.”

“Save me!” she screamed. “Is that what you think you did?”

The sound of his men returning and climbing to their positions hopefully drowned out some of her tirade.

“Well, you couldn’t think you had much chance of outrunning them.” Although she had more speed than he would have given her credit for. When the carriage had topped the rise and he’d seen her coming toward them, her red hair flying out behind her like ribbons of flame, he’d thought he was dreaming and she was some sort of fallen angel or demon come to pursue and punish him for his misdeeds. He had not felt much better when he’d realized it was Lily. There was relief he was in time to save her, and anger he had put her in this position.

The coachman called to the horses, and the carriage began to move, turning slowly back toward Town.

“You are impossible,” she said, her voice filled with disgust. “When we return to London, you are never to speak to me again. I will cut you directly.”

“Whatever will I do?” he drawled.

“Is that my pistol?” she asked, pointing to the weapon he still held.

“Yes.” He handed it to her before he thought better of it. But she didn’t point it at him, as he half-expected her to do. Instead, she tucked it into her skirts, closed her eyes, and turned away from him as much as was possible in a carriage where they faced each other.

“None of this would have happened,” he said, “if you had agreed to stay away from my father.”

Her eyes flicked open, the deep green vibrant and flashing. “So this is my fault?”

There did not seem a right answer to that question, and before he could respond, she leaned forward and pointed a finger in his face. “Andrew, you are a spoiled child, and I am sorry I was ever in love with you. I only hope I am there to see it when you are forced to grow up.”

Andrew gaped at her, certain he had not heard correctly. Lily had been in love with him? When? Why? How had he not known? But she did not elaborate. Instead, she closed her eyes and did not speak another word.

***

Lily nodded to her maid, who listed the items she would pack for the Duke of Ravenscroft’s house party, and then consulted her own list. “How many pairs of gloves did you say, Anna?”

“Ten, madam. I planned to purchase two additional pairs today.”

“Oh, that’s right. You told me. And what about—” She turned as a knock sounded on the door and it creaked open to reveal the Countess of Sinclair. Lily blinked in surprise and hastily rose and curtsied.

The countess waved a hand. “What formalities! They are not necessary, I assure you. Girl, be off with you!” she said to the maid. Anna all but ran from the room.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Lily said, offering the countess a cushioned armchair. The older woman leaned heavily on her cane as she made her way to it. “I thought you had left Town for the summer.”

“You did not think I would call first? All the papers are full of the news. You have overthrown my husband for the Duke of Ravenscroft.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Poor Sin. First Juliette, then Fallon, now me. Soon we will have to begin referring to him as a saint.”

The countess gave her a wry smile. “These rumors do tarnish his lecherous reputation. Say they are not so.”

Lily sighed, lifted a hat box from the chaise longue, and seated herself on the velvet cushion. “I cannot. As you see, I
am
traveling to Ravenscroft’s lair for a house party.”

“I do not wish to embarrass you, but neither can I keep quiet,” the countess said. Lily almost smiled. The countess had never kept quiet, whether her words embarrassed others or not. “Is it a financial matter? If you are in need of funds—”

“No. I do not need blunt, and you have been more than generous.”

“You cannot possibly be infatuated with the duke. He is old and was ugly even when I was a young girl. And I know you care nothing for his title.” The countess tapped her walking stick and studied Lily. “Might this have something to do with your father and the skills you inherited from him?”

Lily didn’t speak, allowing the countess to come to her own conclusions.

“I see. Then might I give you a piece of advice?”

Now Lily did smile. “You are
asking
me?”

“Tut, girl. I do not know why everyone thinks you are charming.” But she was smiling. Lily caught an image of the countess as a young woman. Her wrinkles faded and her eyes brightened, her white hair darkened, and she was truly lovely. And then the smile faded. “I do not claim to know Ravenscroft well,” Lady Sinclair said, “but I have watched him over the years. He seems harmless. Even foolish. In truth, he is dangerous. He is not a man to be trusted or a man to turn your back on. I do not like to think of you sleeping under his roof.”

“There will be other guests.”

“Who will care nothing for you. If I am not mistaken, you go alone. If something should go wrong, who is there to help you?”

It was true. She would be somewhat isolated, with only the post to rely on if she needed assistance. By the time a letter reached London, it might be too late. But she had made her decision. “I know how to keep a man at arm’s length.”

“Yes, when you are in London and when you can retreat to your home or that of one of your friends. But you will be under Ravenscroft’s roof, and if he wants you—”

Lily glanced down at her hands, willing her fingers to unclench. She would not allow fear to get the better of her.

“And I have not even mentioned what we both know—you have another purpose entirely, one at odds with that of the duke’s.”

Lily did not want to hear more. She could not speak on that subject, not even to Lady Sinclair, in any case. “Knowing all of this, what is your advice?” Lily asked.

“Stay home,” the countess said. Lily frowned at her, and the countess leaned forward and grasped Lily’s hand in her thin, fragile one. “Be careful whom you trust.”

“I always am.” Lily squeezed the countess’s hand, almost afraid of crushing the birdlike bones.

Lady Sinclair grasped the silver handle of her walking stick and rose. “You do know the duke’s estate is in Nottinghamshire, do you not?”

“I do.” It seemed one of life’s little ironies.

“Stay away from
the
boy
. There has never been a time when it was more imperative that you keep your secrets. Those you have now and those from your past.”

***

The long drive from London to Nottinghamshire and Ravenscroft Hall was a familiar one for Lily, though it had been years since she’d made it. And she had never made it in such comfort. The duke had provided her with his personal coach for the journey, and she was pleased to find the conveyance well sprung, the matched pair of Cleveland Bays quick and lively, and the coachman quite solicitous. They made good time, but when she arrived at Ravenscroft Hall, she was eager for a comfortable bed and a bath. She would be obliged to forgo dinner to have either. It was dusk as they entered the estate’s grounds, and she knew the family and the guests who preceded her would be sitting down to eat. Country hours demanded early meals.

“Anna, when we arrive, set out a dinner gown and order a bath. Then retire for a few hours,” she told her maid. She was not certain what the accommodations for the servants had been like at the inn the night before, but Anna looked weary.

“But, madam, I should unpack and press your gown for tomorrow.”

Lily waved a hand. “You can do it later, or I shall do it myself. I’m perfectly capable.” She had not grown up with servants, other than a cook and a maid of all work. She had pressed many, many gowns—her own and her elder sister’s. But this evening she needed rest. She would need all her wits about her if she hoped to deal with the duke. He would expect more than a perfunctory kiss on the cheek from her. In turn, she needed access to his library and bedchamber. Gaining that access without actually sharing his bed would be a careful negotiation.

And then there was the Earl of Darlington to think of. She had not thought of him often since he’d left her at the door of her town house the morning after her abduction. When she had thought of him, it had been with pain or anger. She could not afford either sentiment at the moment. She hoped, quite sincerely, he was still in Town.

As the carriage topped the last rise, the estate came into view. Anna gasped, and even Lily could not suppress a smile. It was lovely—everything a ducal estate should be. She knew next to nothing about architecture, but this was the sort of house she thought others would describe as
stately
. And she had listened to enough talk to know the house was built in the Elizabethan style. There was a high central hall surrounded by four towers, and all of them had pretty decorations and spires on top. She was certain they had a more technical term, but she did not know it. It was a large house, and the setting sun glinted on the limestone, making it look almost greenish blue. Strange, she thought, and beautiful. Had Darlington grown up here? Had he climbed the trees in the park, run down the drive with his playfellows, looked out of the windows when he should have been concentrating on his studies?

And why was she still thinking of him? He had tried to have her killed. If that did not snuff out her affection for him, then nothing could. She pushed thoughts of him away and straightened her shoulders as the carriage slowed and approached the house’s entrance. Several servants waited, their green livery seeming part of the house itself in this lighting. The carriage stopped, and Lily took a deep breath. When the door opened, she stepped out, once again the Countess of Charm.

***

Andrew turned away from the window when Lily disappeared inside the house. A courtesan in Ravenscroft Hall. His ancestors would have turned in their graves. Actually, if the stories he’d heard had any truth to them, they probably would not have batted an eyelash. And Lily was not the first woman of easy virtue to visit here. There were several of far looser morals in the dining room at this moment. His mother would have been horrified had she been alive to see this. For the first time, he was glad she was not.

If Andrew listened closely, he could hear the commotion the servants made over settling this new visitor.
Does
madam
wish
to
change
and
be
shown
to
the
dining
room?

He could not hear her response, but apparently it was negative. He had declined to dine with his father and his guests as well. After the debacle of Lily’s abduction, he had retreated to Ravenscroft Hall, only to find his brooding solitude interrupted by the arrival of his father and some of the duke’s “friends.” He had thought about leaving, but it occurred to him the estate would one day be his. He might be better served by staying and ensuring his father did not lose it in a game of whist or billiards.

And now Lily was here. Her words still rang in his ears.

I
am
sorry
I
was
ever
in
love
with
you.

She’d loved him. Now that he knew it, he could see it. She’d always teased him, smiled at him, made him feel welcome and at ease. But was that love or was she grasping for the title of duchess even then?