Scoundrel (22 page)

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “I simply wanted to tell you that I spoke with your father tonight before he left, and I have an appointment with him tomorrow at three o’clock.” He took a step closer, unmindful of the way she shrank away. “We have known each other for many years, my dear, yet I fear you have never clearly understood my intentions. Tomorrow I plan to ask your father for his permission to begin a formal courtship.”

Lily didn’t respond to that announcement, although it took considerable effort to remain silent. She wanted to tell him he was too late, to use Remmington’s false courtship to fob him off. Something in his eyes made the words freeze in her throat.

“I can see this comes as a surprise,” he said at last. He reached out and took her hand.

Lily tried to pull away from his grasp, but he proved surprisingly strong. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and she felt a shudder of fear. Her heart beat faster and faster until she thought it would burst from her chest. She’d known Lord Allen for years, yet she didn’t really know him at all.

“That’s all right, my dear.” He patted her hand and leaned even closer. Lily leaned away. His breath smelled of garlic and wine. “You must be overcome by your emotions right now. I can wait until tomorrow to discuss the details of our courtship.”

He turned and walked toward the pavilion, with Lily forced to follow his lead until they came into view of the garden area. She came to a sudden halt, trying her best to sound as if nothing were amiss. “I fear we must part company here, my lord, or there will be talk. I had not thought of it before now, but some might think it strange to see us emerge together from this sheltered part of the gardens.”

Lord Allen glanced toward the pavilion and Lily used that distraction to pull away from him. She began to walk backward, toward the path that turned to the left. “I must bid you adieu until tomorrow, Lord Allen.”

Lord Allen reached out for her, but she turned and bolted toward the hedges. The path took several quick turns and she paused for a moment where it formed another T. She heard only the soft crunch of her own slippers on the gravel, but she quickly checked around her to see if Lord Allen followed. Silvery hedges rose eight to ten feet on every side, the gravel path a faint outline in the moonlight that disappeared a few yards beyond her in the shadows of the hedges. The music sounded farther away, but Lily didn’t know if she’d made her way toward the house or deeper into the gardens. More importantly, she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps. No one followed her.

Lily wasn’t sure how long she hid beneath the trellised rose arbor. It seemed hours. She’d wandered down one path after another until she reached this small clearing. The arched arbor stood before the outer brick wall of the garden, and the thorny rose vines nearly covered the wall. The full moon provided the only light, and the faint strains of music from the pavilion seemed to come from very far away. No one would find her here. Not even Remmington. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and tried to contain a fresh wave of tears.

She wanted to go home, yet she hadn’t spent the night in her own room since the night of her attack. She would probably lie awake all night, her nerves tensed, her heart fluttering as rapidly as it did at this moment. If she’d trusted her instincts about Remmington, she would still be at his town house, safe. Was he even looking for her? She’d probably pushed him too far this time. She wouldn’t blame him if he decided this particular assignment wasn’t worth the trouble. Her breath caught in her throat when a dark figure appeared on the moonlit path and she pressed herself closer to the dark recesses of the arbor.

“Lily?”

Remmington’s voice sounded oddly calm as he walked toward her hiding place. He came to a halt just outside the arbor, and she could see him clearly in the moonlight. She took a step forward, then another, then he opened his arms just in time to catch her. She landed against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” he muttered, even as his arms tightened around her in a crushing embrace. For a moment he seemed content to hold her, then his hands were on her shoulders, pushing her away. “My God, Lily. You’re shaking like a leaf. What happened to you?”

“N-nothing,” she mumbled. “S-something.” Her arms slipped around his waist and she buried her face against his chest. “Please, just hold me for a little while.”

He hesitated a moment, then he pulled her tight against his chest and stroked her back in a soothing motion. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m here now.” When her breathing sounded more normal, he lifted her chin with his thumb and waited until she looked up at him. “Tell me what happened, Lily.”

She shook her head. “Very little happened. Certainly nothing to warrant these childish tears.”

“What happened?”

“My imagination simply got the better of me. After I left you with Margaret Granger, I took a wrong turn and ended up near the pavilion, where Lord Allen found me.”

Remmington listened in silence as she related her encounter with Lord Allen. She tried to make light of the incident, but he didn’t look appeased by her explanation. The sound of muted laughter distracted them both, probably the sounds of a couple trysting on a nearby path.

“Someone is coming,” he announced. His eyes were intense as he stared down at her. “There is just one more thing before we go. Don’t ever leave me that way again.”

Before she could guess what he meant to do, his mouth covered hers in a kiss that communicated his anger and worry much more effectively than words. Her hands became fists and she began to push against his chest at the same moment he gentled the kiss. He fit his lips against hers, expertly, insistently, until her palms opened and she smoothed her hands up his chest to his shoulders, clinging to the very object that threatened her balance. She heard the sound of laughter again, closer than before.

He broke away from her. Amazingly, he didn’t seem the least affected by their kiss. He took her by the elbow and turned her toward the path. “Come, Lily. It’s time we left.”

“We’ll never get out of here,” Remmington muttered. Dozens of carriages lined the driveway in front of Keaton House. The street beyond the driveway looked just as clogged with carriage traffic.

“You managed our way from the mazes easily enough,” Lily said, a touch of admiration in her voice. “It seemed I circled that maze for hours until I gave up and hid in the arbor.”

“Two hours,” he told her, frowning over the reminder of his frantic search. He hadn’t truly panicked until he reached the pavilion and saw no sign of her. For two hours he’d searched the maze, his heart gripped with fear, his mind plagued by every gruesome possibility. She still clung to his arm with both hands, as if she feared he would disappear. There wasn’t a chance of that happening. He would never turn his back on her again.

He led Lily to his carriage and took the seat next to her. She shifted closer to him and he wanted nothing more than to pull her onto his lap. The carriage started forward and he nudged her hip to make a little more room between them. “Why didn’t you tell Allen that a courtship would be impossible, that you already have a suitor?”

She shrugged. “He seemed to appear from nowhere, and made me realize that I was alone when I shouldn’t be. I didn’t have any reason to be frightened of Lord Allen, but he made me uneasy. I know it sounds foolish, but I just wanted to be away from him.”

Remmington made a mental note to have Digsby put together a dossier on Lord Allen. The young dandy appeared harmless enough, and Sir Malcolm had verified the fact that he had not left the Ashlands’ ball until close to dawn. Still, he seemed to be at Lily’s elbow every time he saw her. It would do no harm to make certain. “Allen is not your attacker, Lily. Several people saw him in Lord Ashland’s card room until almost dawn the night of the ball.”

“I know that. I also know that I made a very foolish mistake by leaving your side.” She bit her lower lip, then gave him a hesitant apology. “You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace. I’m sorry you had to look for me.”

Half an hour ago he’d wanted nothing more than the opportunity to yell at her, to vent just a portion of his anger over her disappearance. Now he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to stroke the smooth curve of her cheek to see if her skin was really as soft as he remembered. “Perhaps you should sit on the other side of the carriage, Lily.”

“I like this side better.”

“Then I’ll move.” He started out of his seat, but stopped when she laid her hand on his arm.

“I know you don’t like being this close to me, no more than you like kissing me,” she said, “but I would feel better if you sat next to me for just a little while.”

Was she jesting? He searched her face for some sign that she was teasing him.

She bowed her head. “You think I’m a coward.”

“You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met,” he said simply. “And the most baffling. Whatever gave you the idea that I don’t like to kiss you?”

“You were angry that night at your town house. Tonight you didn’t seem especially angry, but…” She lifted her chin in a haughty gesture. “You needn’t look so worried. There is no need for you to pretend interest in me as you did with Margaret Granger. In fact, kissing is entirely unnecessary in this courtship. It must be obvious by now that I will not improve with practice.”

Remmington stared at her in utter disbelief. He held her chin in one hand and brushed his thumb across her mouth. “You are so naive that it frightens me. Don’t you own a mirror? Have you never looked at yourself?”

Lily pulled away. “I own a mirror. Until a few years ago, it reflected a girl with bright red hair and a tall, ungainly body.”

“That is no longer the case, I assure you.”

“No,” she admitted, “but I am a far cry from the women I usually see in your company.” She held her hands up for examination, her fingers splayed wide. “My hands are too big to be feminine. I’m taller than almost every woman I know, and many men, too. It was worse when I was younger. I towered over the other children in our parish, a gawky, ugly girl who never fit in. I was the one everyone poked fun at, the one who could never do anything right. Sophie was the only one who didn’t tease me.”

He tried to picture her as an adolescent. No matter how ungainly the child, he would have recognized the promise of her beauty. “I wish I had known you then.” He reached out to stroke her cheek, not a lover’s caress, but that of a friend offering comfort. “I would have protected you from those childish taunts.”