Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 01] (15 page)

Candles flooded the windows with welcoming light, and Lillian was so glad to be home. If not for Nick’s intervention…well, she did not want to think of how this night might otherwise have turned out.

“P
repare a hot bath for my lady,” Nick instructed once they had breached the vestibule of her home. “Tea and biscuits, too. Then I want a full accounting from Jon Driver.”

Hicks rushed back toward the kitchens and the maids scurried away.

“This time I’ll not take no for an answer, my lady.” Hoisting her into his arms with amazing ease, Nick headed toward the staircase.

Lillian did not have the energy or inclination to fight him. Even his warm, brawny chest failed to diminish the dreadful chills that were making her feel as if icicles lived beneath her skin.

“It’s the third door on the right, Mr. Redford.” Fanny hounded their every step up the stairs. “Are you ill, Lillian? Injured?” Alarm made her usual throaty voice shriek.

“Just cold, Fanny.” Lillian shivered. “Cold, wet and miserable.”

Nick headed down the hall and kicked open the chamber door.

He studied the room, and after quickly scrutinizing every stick of furniture in the chamber, from the mauve canopied bed to the rose-colored silk Grecian settee, he decided on her favorite chair, the threadbare floral wingback by the hearth. He eased her down into the seat, turned and whipped the rose-embroidered coverlet off the bed to wrap it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, nuzzling her freezing nose under the blanket.

He leaned over her and carefully removed her hat, wilted plumes and all. “Let me have a look.” His fingers skillfully but gently examined her skull. “You still have a bump, but the cut has almost closed.”

“The burning has stopped,” she replied, realizing that it had. In fact, all she was feeling was rather cold and sodden, from her flooded feet to her tender head.

Just then the butler and maids clamored up the back staircase and charged into the room, hauling all sorts of implements for the bath. The housekeeper, Mrs. Marx, bustled behind them, carrying a tray with tea, the keys at her waist clanking with her every shuffling step.

Mrs. Marx handed Lillian a cup, and she gratefully sipped the burning Hyson. Heat slithered down her throat and into her hollow belly. “Thank you, Mrs. Marx. Hicks, please prepare a bath for Mr. Redford in the guestroom next door. And do your best to find him something to wear, would you?”

“Yes, my lady.” Hicks turned and left.

Nick shook his head. “Thanks for the hospitality, but I’m going to speak with Jon Driver.”

Lillian did not like the pallor of his skin or the color of his lips. “You will not be of any use to me if you catch a chill…Nick.”

Pressing his fist to his chest, he bowed. “Your concern moves me, my lady.” But she caught the glint of amusement in his gaze.

“Please do me the courtesy of humoring me…Nick. I would hate for you to be so disobliging as to die on me.”

“I promise not to expire,” he stated mockingly, bowing, “until I have spoken with your coachman.” Then he spun on his heel and headed out the door.

Stubborn oaf,
Lillian thought affably.

Fanny’s eyes were weighing the circumstances. “What in the blazes is going on, Lillian?”

Not meeting her friend’s gaze, she explained, “I was supposed to meet Lady Rece, like we usually do. But it seems someone had sent her a note—”

“I’m speaking of you and that dark Adonis, not the blasted correspondence with Lady Rece!”

“Can we discuss this later?” Lillian murmured as she nodded toward the servants. Although they were trying very hard to feign nonchalance, their motions had slowed down to a crawl as soon as Fanny had asked about Nick. “I’m a bit frigid at the moment.”

Fanny nodded, her face softening. “Warm up in your bath, my dear. Then we will chat. My curiosity is piqued. Piqued indeed.”

Once deep in a scalding, lily-scented bath, Lillian finally felt like a person again. In the sudsy water,
her skin no longer felt frozen, her chills had waned and she felt wonderfully relaxed. It felt so good.

“So how in heaven’s name did Redford go from furious injured party to knightly savior in the span of three days?” Fanny asked, stretched out on the divan.

Had it really only been just three days? It felt like a lifetime. “Apparently, Fanny,” she stated, thankful that the maids were gone and the door closed, “our outlandish plan actually succeeded.”

“I knew it!” Fanny slapped her hand on her thigh. “I just knew it would work. Never underestimate a sleeping draught, a see-through night rail and a plan.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Lillian ribbed.

“Give me details, please.”

“Well, Nick met me at the prison the afternoon of our little escapade and told Dillon that he was going to do his best to set an
innocent
man free.”

“So it’s Nick now?” Fanny raised a brow.

Ignoring the lure, Lillian continued, “You should have seen Dillon’s face, Fanny. He actually teared up when Nick gave him the news. It was well worth everything.”

“Hmmm. So Redford is on our side. But how does that bring him to Litchfield Park this night?”

Lillian pushed a cloud of bubbles around her knee. “Dillon asked for a report. So I let him know where I might be found.”

“Might be found? Ha!
You’ve
got yourself a bit of a crush. Not that I blame you, my dear. He has that dark, brooding air that women can’t resist.”

“I do not have a crush.” Lillian glared. “It was a smart thing to do under the circumstances.”

“Under the circumstances the smart thing to do was to stay home, safe and dry.”

Lillian’s face fell. “I know. I feel like a fool.”

“Well, no harm done. So your servants lost a few coins. Better than their lives.”

“A highwayman in the heart of Mayfair. I never would have guessed that Kane would go so far.”

“You believe it was him?”

“Or his lackeys. One attacked me, a wretched fellow who Nick believes is a gentleman behaving as anything but.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“He was disguised. Thankfully, Nick came along just in time. He, at least, realized the possibility of danger.”

Fanny scrunched her face. “Hmmm. The man came running to your rescue, very interesting.”

“It was brave, is what it was. You should have seen the way he handled the dastard. Cool as ice, and the man was dispatched, one, two, three.” Lillian snapped her fingers as the stirring image flashed in her mind. “It was really quite…remarkable.”

“Cool in a fix and handsome as that?” Fanny brushed her hand along her hip, stating throatily, “What a package. No wonder you’re infatuated.”

“Oh, stop it, Fanny. There is nothing between us.”

“Then you are out of your wits. Redford is a sharp blade. One of the most stunning men I’ve ever had the good fortune to lay eyes on. And that body! Well, the man’s fine even with his clothes on.”

“I try not to think of him with his clothes off,” Lillian confessed. “It’s a bit too distracting.”

“That’s the point,” Fanny declared, popping open
her fan and waving it rapidly. “I’m just…well, I just hope Dillon doesn’t find out. Although he should not blame you. No matter the truth of your relationship, men are selfish bastards and don’t like to share.”

“Well, the possibility of an affair is moot, so drop it. Nick cares naught for me. It is a simple business relationship, nothing more.”

“I can tell by the way he carries you about and ministers to your delicate body,” Fanny chided in a disbelieving tone.

“The man swore that he would not touch me if King George himself ordered him to,” she grumbled. “Not exactly a Romeo with his fair Juliet.”

“Why would he say such a thing?”

Suddenly finding it vitally important to clean her cuticles, Lillian grabbed the soap and attended to them. “Well, I told him that we could not have anything untoward between us.”

Fanny flipped her fan closed with a snap. “Have you cracked?”

Lillian straightened in the tub, defensive. “It’s for the best. Where can a relationship with Redford ever lead? There are a hundred reasons it will never do. I’m a kept woman. The man’s got more principles than ten vicars combined. Besides, I will not marry. And he despises the wedded state as much as me.”

“You sound perfect for each other.”

“Perfectly wretched.” She sank back in the tub.

Fanny’s eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid that you are going to fall in love with him.”

“I will never suffer that malady.” Lillian examined a pile of suds in her hand. “It’s not an option.”

“So he’s a free man? You don’t care if he samples other wares?”

“Beyond the investigation for Dillon, it’s none of my affair what he does.”

Fanny stood. “Then you won’t mind if I stop by the guestroom and help warm his bath—”

“Don’t you dare!” Lillian sat up so quickly that the water splashed over the side of the tub and onto the thick Turkish carpet.

Her old friend eyed her knowingly. “None of your affair, eh?”

Shock blazed through Lillian at her own violent reaction. She slowly sank back into the bath, realization dawning. Heaven help her, she
was
growing fond of Nicholas Redford!

“Oh, Fanny,” she cried. “I cannot…I will not…” Lillian leaned forward, imploring, “Please help me stop it, Fanny.”

“You really wish to end your feelings?” Fanny inquired, adjusting her emerald skirts and lounging on the divan.

“Absolutely!”

Fanny sighed. “Then there is only one thing you can do,” she replied, tapping the closed fan against her painted red lips. “Sleep with Redford.”

“What?” Lillian shrieked.

Tossing the fan aside, Fanny wagged a delicate finger. “Fighting the attraction between you will only make it more intense and significantly more difficult for you two to interact. You do wish to work together for Dillon’s sake?”

“Of course, but I think bedding Nick would be the worst thing for me to do.”

“If you bed him, then the tension will disappear.
You can cease focusing on each other because the pressure has been
released,
the temptation has been satisfied.”

Her argument had merit, but it made Lillian uneasy. “I still don’t think that it’s a good idea, Fanny.”

“You consider love akin to a malady. Yes?”

Lillian nodded.

“How do you treat a cold? I will tell you.” She waved her hand in dramatic affect. “You give in to your body’s need. You focus on it, take to bed, rest, and tend to your body’s travails.”

“Wouldn’t the act of coupling intensify the feelings instead of quelling them?”

“In the beginning, perhaps. Sometimes it can dampen feelings completely. Like when the sex is bad. When it’s awful, then the feelings can be quashed in an instant.”

Bad? Nicholas Redford? Lillian crossed her arms, sighing, “If only. Somehow I cannot fathom it being awful after what happened the other night.”

“Don’t rub it in!” Fanny exclaimed. “I’m having enough difficulty talking about sex as it is.”

Lillian shook her head. “It just doesn’t seem right, Fanny. Me cavorting with Dillon’s investigator while he withers away in prison.”

“What on earth does Dillon have to do with it?”

“What if I distracted Nick?”

“And you aren’t now?”

The clock chimed the hour of nine, and Lillian could hear shuffling feet and deep voices in the guestroom next door.

Fanny slipped off her half boots and wiggled her toes, sighing. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be living every moment as if it were my last.”

“What do you mean?”

“With a scoundrel like Kane hovering over my shoulder, the possibility of imminent doom, well, I’d be making every moment last. Passion, hell, just having
fun
would rise in importance.”

“As if it’s low on your list of priorities now?” Lillian scoffed, but she heard the logic in her friend’s words.

“Don’t you agree?”

“Even if I did wish to follow your advice, Fanny, Nick has sworn not to touch me. So your suggestion is impossible.”

Fanny smiled mischievously. “Is Redford sleeping here tonight, perchance?”

“I have invited him to.”

“Visit him tonight, Lillian. See what happens. Perhaps you can be even more persuasive than King George.”

“Nick?” Lillian tapped lightly on the guestroom door about an hour later. “May I come in?”

It was still early yet, just after ten, but the servants had retired for the night, as was usual these days. Lillian had not kept them about either, knowing that she might be making a nocturnal call.

“If I could have a word with you, please?” Silence greeted her. She wrenched nervously on the tie to her dressing gown, wondering if she should tiptoe back to her room. But Fanny’s words had convinced her; if she had the chance for a taste of passion, she should jump on it. And how frequently would the man of her fantasies be sleeping in the next room? “Live every moment as if it’s going to be my last,” she murmured, reaching for the door.

Her hand was damp with nervous sweat as she slowly turned the brass knob.

“Nick?” she whispered, edging into the room. “May I come in?”

It was a foolish question, because she was already crossing the threshold. Still, if he sent her on her way, she would respect his wishes. No matter Fanny’s confidence, Lillian still had considerable doubt that Nick would even wish for an affair with her. And in the end, it might be disappointing, but it really might be for the best. Then she would know for certain that her feelings would not be reciprocated, ending them forever. At least she hoped that would be how it worked.

The fire had burned low to embers; the scent of lavender soap filled the air. The plush carpet sank under her slippers, and she was surprised that there was no sound of movement in the room. Perhaps he was already asleep?

The bed was empty, its sheets turned down. A tray of food loaded with empty dishes rested on the far table by the high-backed chairs near the hearth.

That’s when she saw his bare feet, stretched out before him, as if warming by the fire. Just the sight of that moon-pale skin made her breath catch.

“Nick?”

She stepped around the chair.

A low snore emanated from his slightly open mouth. He had fallen asleep sitting up, a goblet of wine still in his hand. His raven hair was loose, just grazing his shoulders, his face relaxed in repose and his eyelids smooth with sleep.