Dangerous Weakness (5 page)

Chapter 8

Arching one’s back, Lily found, did little to stifle an ache when jostling along rough roads in a farmer’s cart. She brooded in solitude on the back of Framer Justice’s wagon, legs dangling, her back to Glenaire who appropriated the rough bench up front. She added that to her list of grievances.

Chadbourn Park, they had been told, was not far “’f you take th’road that avoids th’village and up the back lane.” An hour had passed during which Lily had plenty of time to nurse those grievances.

I will not tie myself to that insufferable boor even if he begs.

A vision of Glenaire begging brightened her spirits considerably. It did not, however, change her views. While she blamed only herself for succumbing to his advances—to her own turbulent passions, if she were honest—his insulting offer stuck in her craw.

This episode may bring disaster down on my head, but he’s a fool if he thinks he can order my life. I will manage the thing myself no matter what he says
.

The wagon bumped around a rutted turn and slowed. The outbuildings of Chadbourn Park emerged beyond the fields. People bustled about their business; a groom led a horse past. He looked at them with little curiosity.

We must look like the village beggars.

Glenaire jumped down and came round to help Lily. The farmer saluted them and went on his way with shouted greetings to acquaintances as he went.

“We’re too late to sneak in unnoticed,” she lamented.

“By servants perhaps, but I will not have the family see us in this state, nor my staff,” he said.

Before she could object, he pulled her into the stone barn that also served as the earl’s stables. When she could make out only one worker in the gloom at the far end, she seized what little privacy they had.

“Let me clarify this before we go any further,” she hissed. “I will not marry you.”

Richard opened his mouth to speak; she held up a hand to quiet him.

“The guests are gone. Your staff is discreet. The earl and countess will accept any story we tell them. Sahin Pasha took our horses. We immediately set out for the Park. We got lost. Period.”

Glenaire listened, intent.

“Nothing. Else. Happened,” she ground out.

“You could be a duchess one day,” he retorted through clenched teeth.

“What makes you think I want that?” she demanded. “Not all of us live to be fawned over.”

He gave her what she had come to think of as his “Lord of heaven and earth” expression, chin high, eyes sharp.

“You could be increasing,” he said in clipped tones.

Heat crept up Lily’s neck.
Pregnant? Pray God, no.

“It won’t matter,” she lied. “In that event, I will manage the thing. You needn’t concern yourself.”

“I beg to disagree. In that unfortunate event, we will ‘manage the thing’ together. Do you understand me?”

The full force of his authoritative stance hit Lily in a wave, but she stood her ground.

“Perhaps. For now, however—”

“Richard, what on earth? You look like you’ve been dragged through the pig sty backward!”

“Sheep,” Glenaire growled, his eyes on Lily.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Just as bad,” Will chuckled. The “worker” had materialized as a very amused Earl of Chadbourn. “You’ve done interesting things with that shirt,” he said.

Lily tried not to think about where the shirt had been.

“No one would believe this if I told them,” the earl persisted. “Glenaire, the Marble Marquess, has straw in his hair and mud on his face.”

“You will tell no one,” Glenaire said in quelling tones.

Will bit his lip, suppressing laughter, but sobered quickly. “We were worried when you didn’t come back,” he said while he surveyed Lily with open curiosity. “Stewart sent men to search. Is there a story here? I hope it’s a good one.”

Glenaire repeated the story Lily suggested with few words.

“You’ve been walking all night?”

“Until we found the Justice farm, yes,” Richard said. His haughty expression brooked no contradiction. “We will, of course, want to hide the fact that we were gone all night if possible.”

Will looked at Lily kindly and nodded.

“We need to get Miss Thornton into the house, seen by as few eyes as possible,” Richard went on. “And into the care of your countess.” He no longer called her Lily.

“Give me a moment. I’ll find work for my people and clear out a path,” the earl said. He left them alone.

Richard started to speak, and again Lily stopped him. “You will bring my father home,” she demanded.

“I have already arranged it, as you know. I’ll have Volkov watched. You needn’t fear him,” he responded.

“There will be no marriage,” she repeated. “I will not have it.”

“Very well, Miss Thornton. Let it be on your head, but you will tell me if there is a child. You have no choice. My child will not be born outside of marriage.”

There are always choices, Lord High and Mighty. Not always good ones, but choices nonetheless. Most men would accept my decision with relief.

“I could dine out on that story, you coming in looking like a bedraggled sheep-boy,” Will hadn’t stopped laughing at him all day. It had become one more thing to hold against Miss Lilias Thornton; she had made him a laughing stock.

Richard sat—bathed, groomed, and trussed in a pristine suit—and sipped the earl’s fine whisky. His hair had been cleaned. His nails had been filed. His clothes had been burned. A hefty bonus calmed his valet and removed all trace of the horrid night.

Not all so horrid.
He shook the traitorous thought away.

“My couriers will reach London quickly, but I suspect Sahin Pasha sent his ahead on Mercury. They will be at sea to Thessaloniki by nightfall or tomorrow at the latest, tide and wind permitting. I am sorry about Mercury.”

“We don’t know that he’s gone for good,” Will pointed out. “I have hope Sahin will recall himself enough to return my property.”

“Perhaps. He has other priorities.” Richard tried to keep the conversation on the diplomatic mess, not his night on the road. “They’ll kill the agent, of course, and possibly unleash more unrest. Russia may find the need to avenge their man.”

“Or they may take care of Volkov for going rogue,” Will suggested.

“Perhaps. It depends on how successful it turns out for them. In chaos they win either way.”

“Catherine pronounced Miss Thornton fit. No harm came to her as a result of your misadventure,” Will put in abruptly, searching Richard’s face.

Richard broke eye contact and made his face a mask of indifference.

“Most of society would consider her compromised,” Will ground on.

Indifference fled. “
I
consider her compromised. I made an honorable offer. She refused.”

Will did not hide his astonishment, although Richard couldn’t be sure if the offer or the refusal surprised the earl more.

For a moment Richard feared his friend would ask awkward questions. He glared until the earl looked away and changed the subject.

“Catherine quite likes the woman,” he said. “She believes there will be little talk and any that arises easily squelched by the Countess of Chadbourn and the sister of the Marquess of Glenaire.”

“Georgiana?” Richard asked, “I shouldn’t be surprised. My sister has become the advocate of self-willed women everywhere.”

“She gets no help from your mother, however,” Will grimaced.

Richard’s sister Georgiana and her husband, who were estranged from his parents, kept a house in London in addition to their home in Cambridge. Their salon had a wide list of devotees among the more intellectual set. The duchess preferred to think they did not exist.

Richard sipped his drink in silence. His mother’s well-known prejudices did not require comment.

“I thought you would want to know. About Miss Thornton,” Will said, watching him.

“We will, of course, arrange travel for the woman, but Miss Thornton is her own concern,” Richard replied. He ought to feel relieved; it annoyed him that he didn’t.

“She will do what she pleases in any case,” he said.
She’ll try. We will watch her while she does it.

Chapter 9

“No, no, no. This is one case where bigger is better.”

Lily listened to Catherine with sinking heart. In the weeks since the countess packed up Lily, her youngest child, the nursemaid and a train of luggage and swooped back to London to ensure that the Haut Ton knew Lilias Thornton to be her dearest of friends, Lily had learned better than to try to stop the woman’s enthusiasms.

“I fear Catherine is correct in this case, Lily,” Georgiana Mallet put in. Glenaire’s sister had joined them at Chadbourn house to plot the campaign hatched by Catherine to “Pop Lily off in style.” They sat around a gaming table covered with engraved invitations, lists, and scraps of notes.

“But we agreed I should set my sights a little lower than the upper ten thousand. I won’t need to attend this ball.”

“No dear,” Catherine told her, “
You
set your sights there. We merely try to steer you toward success.”

“I don’t want or need a title,” Lily said hotly. “So, why do I need to attend the Duchess of Pembrook’s ball? It will be a stifling crush full of useless fribbles who wouldn’t have me, and darling young ladies eager to cut me.”

“Not all titled gentlemen are worthless,” Catherine corrected tartly.

Not all men are gentlemen either. Perhaps I should give up on marriage. Any serious suitor will have to be told I’m not untouched.
The thought depressed her.

“Generally, you may be correct about that sort of thing—not titled gentlemen but certain types of events,” Georgiana said to Lily. “However—”

“Thank you,” Lily interrupted. “I thought we had agreed to small dinner parties, literary soirees, and musicales. I won’t go.”

“Yes, but we must start large,” Catherine insisted.

“First, because you must be noticed,” Georgiana said, “and as much as I myself loathe the bowing and backstabbing, the first great ball of the season will get you noticed.”

Lily grunted. She recalled Sahin’s thoughts on the English marriage mart.
It’s a horse auction, and I’m treated like a second-rate mare.

“Secondly, you must cast your net wide. You can narrow your choices later,” Catherine said.

“And third?” Lily demanded.

“Third, you might just have fun. You seemed to enjoy yourself at Chadbourn Park,” Catherine said.

I did. Before Volkov caught me. Before Glenaire—
She sighed.
Before Glenaire. If I attend this ball, he will be there, looking down his nose for signs of misbehavior.
Another thought caused her stomach to turn.
What if Volkov attended? She had seen no sign of him since her return to London, but she could feel watching eyes.

“I won’t go,” Lily insisted. She picked up the next invitation on the “maybe” pile.

Catherine looked hurt, but she pulled the invitation back to the “no” pile.

“Lily, Catherine went to great trouble to get you that invitation,” Georgiana chided gently. “You must go.”

When you use that tone, you are every inch Glenaire’s sister. Glenaire! How can I face him?
Lily had no answer to her own question, but she realized she had to face him, if only to seek news of her father. She looked from face to face, one set in determination, one hopeful.
How can I repay their kindness with obstinacy?
Her shoulders sagged.

“Pembrook’s ball it is,” she capitulated. “When is it?”

“Thursday next. You won’t be sorry. I have it on good authority the Ottoman delegates have been invited, and the Foreign Office will season the attendees with their eager young men, your target audience,” Georgiana said.

Lily already felt sorry.
If I see Sahin Pasha in public, I may cause an international incident. The Marble Marquess won’t like that.

That thought perked her up.

“That’s all?” the marquess demanded.

The dispatch rider, still in his road dirt cringed in the face of Richard’s fury. He arrived unannounced at Horse Guards, went through the desk used to screen out frivolous requests and importunate beggars, and was dragged bodily into the marquess’s private office overlooking Horse Guards Parade.

“No, I mean yes, my lord. This is the message exactly as John Thornton gave it to me. He didn’t explain anything else.”

Richard scanned the unsealed velum again, but the message remained the same.

Ship floundered. We regret we are detained in Copenhagen pending repairs. Estimated departure 30 days. I will take the opportunity to explore Danish commercial interests and make use of the archives here.

J. Thornton

He folded it back and tapped it absentmindedly on his desk.
We should have sent a more strongly worded warning. Still, the bodyguard knows his duty.

He laid the message down on the desk, calculating the time it took to send this message overland.
He won’t leave for another two weeks and then take three to four more to get here.
John Thornton couldn’t arrive in less than a month; six to eight weeks were more likely. He didn’t appear to be in a rush.

I don’t suppose the man bothered to send word to his daughter.

“Was this his only message?”

The hapless courier opened and closed his mouth like a carp. The man looked ready to drop. Richard reined in his temper.

“What I mean is, did he notify family in any way?”

“Oh! No, sir. At least I don’t think so,” the man said.

Damn. Until her father returns, the Thornton woman remains my problem.

“Go clean up and seek your rest.” Richard punctuated his words with a shooing motion. “You made admirable time. I will see that your superiors hear about it.”

The man turned to go, but Richard interrupted him. “Send in Mr. Heaton on your way out, if you please.”

“Anything new regarding Volkov?” Richard demanded of Heaton five minutes later.

“No, my lord. He hangs on the edges of the Russian delegation. He gambles, but never to excess. He visits particularly sordid houses of—”

“Yes, yes, we know his vices. Has he approached Lilias Thornton?”

“No, my lord, no change since yesterday.” If Heaton intended it as a rebuke, Richard saw no sign.

“We’d know if he did,” Heaton continued. “Since we frightened that one ruffian off behind her square two weeks ago, we’ve seen no other sign of anyone.”

As I know perfectly well.

“If I may be so bold, my lord,” Heaton began. “Have we had word about John Thornton’s return?”

“A messenger arrived a short while ago. Not good news.” Richard showed the young man the message.

“Does she know?” Heaton asked, concern obvious on his face.

“No. Her father left that to us.”

“I’d be happy to call on Miss Thornton,” Heaton said hopefully.

The damned puppy looks like a boy anticipating a sweet.

“No,” Richard said. “I’ll handle it. You may go.” He watched the crestfallen young man leave and considered whether he should assign a different agent to the Thornton woman issue.

Don’t be a bloody fool, Richard. Heaton would make her an unexceptional husband. At least he would if the puppy didn’t bore her to tears, if he could be broad minded enough to overlook—

Richard frowned. His actions had, at the very least, complicated her marriage prospects. That thought hounded him out the door to call for his carriage.

An hour later, irritated and impatient, he let himself out in front of his sister’s townhouse.

Lily Thornton had not been home. She had not been at Chadbourn house. The ladies, he was told, went shopping.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to chase them all over Bond Street.

He could hardly impose on the countess, but he could stop unannounced at his sister’s house and wait. If he were lucky, Georgiana would return home and Lily would be with her. Luck rode with him. He could hear the sound of women’s voices even as he handed his hat to the butler.

“I’ll see if Mrs. Mallet is at home,” the man said.

“Of course she is,” Richard said, brushing past him into the drawing room.

“The Marquess of Glenaire,” the old man intoned behind him with pained expression.

Three faces turned his way, his sister’s irritated, and Catherine’s curious. Lily looked terrified.

“Don’t mind my brother, Simpson,” Georgiana directed her servant. “He believes manners don’t apply to the Hayden family.”

He ignored his sister. He hadn’t seen Lily Thornton in four weeks. His eyes devoured her, taking inventory. She had her hair in some ridiculously complex knot. It hid the lights. He wanted the lights. She looked thinner. She looked pale.

Could she be with child? Then she would indeed be my problem.

The look in Lily’s green eyes, wide with alarm, brought him to his senses. He straightened his spine, forced his eyes away, and squashed the flicker of hope that plagued him.
Absurd!

Georgiana’s raised brow looked like it owed more to amusement than impatience.
My sister is too perceptive by half.

“Social call, Richard? Family matter?” she asked. He heard laughter in her voice.
Minx
.

“Business I fear. I went to call on Miss Thornton and found her here. Perhaps she could join me in the foyer for a few moments. That should be proper enough.”

“I think not,” Lily murmured. She gripped the arm of her chair. “There is nothing I have to say to you that my friends can’t hear.” All three women watched him expectantly.

“Perhaps, but there may be things I have to say for as few ears as possible.”
She looks like she wants to bolt.
“Come, come, I won’t eat you,” he insisted. He regretted his choice of words when he saw her eyes widen.

“Very well,” she said. She followed him to the foyer where he dismissed Georgiana’s curious servants.

“We had word about your father.”

Color drained from her. If he thought her pale before, now she looked positively wraithlike. She swayed backward.

Richard grabbed her elbow and rushed to assure her. “He is well.”

She shook off his hand; hope flickered in her eyes. “Is he here?”

“No, delayed.”
I’ve disappointed her.
He hated the way the light went out in her eyes.

“Still in Russia,” she gasped. Her hand, pressed to her chest as if to steady her breathing, drew his eyes to her breasts.

“No, no,” he floundered, pulling his attention back. “I’m making a hash of this. He left as scheduled, but the ship floundered. It limped into Copenhagen. They await repairs.”

“Too close,” she whispered.

“Pardon?”

“Too close to St. Petersburg.” He watched her pull herself together.
Good girl. I can almost see her mind assessing the information.

“He is well guarded.” Richard prayed that was true. “Travel delays the Russians as much as us.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she said turning away from him.

“Are you well?” he asked her retreating back.

She turned and studied his face gravely. “Do you mean, have there been consequences? It is too soon to tell.” Their eyes caught for a moment.

“You will—”

“Tell you if such a catastrophe occurs? Perhaps. Good day, my lord.” She left with a swish of skirt.

Why does she have to be so damned prickly?
Richard retrieved his hat, put it on with a disgruntled slap, and walked out into the late
afternoon shadows.

John Thornton can deal with her. When he arrives, she’ll be his problem, not mine. Not mine,
he repeated as if to reassure himself and dampen any surge of disappointment.

Unless she’s with child
.
He envisioned Lily big with child, and his lip quirked in the smallest of smiles.