Darling Beast (Maiden Lane) (25 page)

It was near six of the clock the next evening when Lily cautiously approached the pond in Harte’s Folly. The sky was just beginning to take on a mauve cast as the sun floated low in the sky, and the birds had started their evening chorus. It was almost lovely, and for the first time she saw how the garden would look one day. Most of the dead trees and hedges had been cleared and in the few days she’d been away the remaining plants had burst into the light green of spring.

Of life.

Except she wasn’t walking to life. She marched to death with a gun at her back.

Behind her, George Greaves’s tread was heavy and ominous. He was probably stamping on the new grass she took care to avoid.

In the last day and a half he’d not left her side except when she’d had to relieve herself, and even then he’d stood close outside the shut door. If she’d disliked him before—and she had—she’d grown to loathe him in the last thirty-six hours. He was a truly disgusting man without, as far as she could see, any redeeming quality. He’d even refused to pay the wherryman a fair price when they’d made the garden docks.

A nasty, petty, small-minded man, but sadly a dangerous one as well.

She was going to betray her love to this man.

“Make no sound, now,” he murmured in a voice she’d come to despise. “We’ll wait for your lover and then you’ll be free to go.”

She doubted that, but she didn’t have much choice, either, so she kept walking until she saw the glint of blue water.

Lily stopped. “Here. This is where I agreed to meet him.”

“Truly?” George glanced around, his lips twisted in a sneer. “Well, I suppose mud must seem romantic to the insane—and their common lovers.”

She rolled her eyes, not bothering anymore to protest Apollo’s innocence. She’d begun to suspect that George knew full well that Apollo hadn’t killed his friends.

“Just stand where you are,” he instructed, backing behind some obscuring bushes. “And don’t turn to look at me. You give any hint that I’m here and I’ll shoot first him and then you, do you understand?”

She folded her arms. “Quite.”

There was a small silence in which she thought she heard the call of seagulls by the Thames.

“Where is your son?” he asked with horrible casualness. “You left him with a nursemaid, didn’t you?”

She didn’t bother replying. All this would be for naught if she simply gave away Indio’s location.

He chuckled softly at her silence. “We’ll discuss it later, you and I, never fear.”

Something seemed to move behind them and she turned her head to look.

All was quiet.

“A dog or some such,” George said, which was ridiculous. She would’ve known had a stray dog been living in the garden.

Then came the sure tread of a man who knew his way about the garden.

Lily straightened.

He was nearing.

Damn it, he was
early
.

George cocked his gun.

She swallowed, though she didn’t look at him. “I thought you meant to arrest him.”

“He’s a dangerous murderer,” he whispered back. “Better to be safe than sorry. Don’t worry. I’m a good shot. You won’t be hurt.”

Not externally, anyway
, she thought, and took a step backward, toward him.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “Stay where you are.”

She took another step closer to George, just as Apollo came into sight. He wore a plain brown suit and black
tricorn and he looked like a man of middling means, perhaps a doctor or the owner of a shop or a head gardener. Someone from her own station in life.

Someone she could love and live with until she and he grew old.

He looked up and smiled at her in that moment and she whirled and caught George’s pistol, pulling it down, away from her lover, her love, her life.

Pulling it toward her own breast.

The shot, when it came, was deafening.

A
POLLO SAW
L
ILY
turn and wrestle with George Greaves.

Saw the spark and the plume of black smoke.

Saw her stagger back and fall, dead.

Dead.

Strangely, he didn’t hear a thing.

George turned and saw him and raised the pistol, but he’d already used the one shot to kill Lily, his beloved Lily, so Apollo batted it aside. The pistol went spinning into the underbrush as Apollo raised his hand and plowed it into George’s face.

He didn’t hear that, either. Or feel it.

Just as well.

George went down and Apollo followed, beating into that face, because it was the last thing Lily had seen—the face of her killer—and he meant to destroy it.

Blood spattered and George opened his mouth, his teeth scarlet-stained. He might’ve been saying something, might’ve been begging, but since Apollo couldn’t hear, it didn’t matter.

Something crunched beneath his knuckles, and Apollo realized he was grinning, his lips pulled back from
his bared teeth, turned into the monster Lily had first thought him.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

George spat blood and a bit of broken white that might’ve been a tooth and Apollo split his ear.

But the eyes were still there—the eyes that had looked on Lily’s death—and he aimed his fist toward them.

“Apollo.” The voice was Lily’s, but that couldn’t be, because… because…

Her hands, white and soft, wrapped about his bloodied knuckles and gently stopped him.

Sound suddenly rushed back in.

George was breathing with a harsh rasp, Apollo was making a noise like a sob, and Lily…

Dear God, Lily was saying his name.

He looked up and saw her face, blackened on one side with flecks of blood high on one cheek.

He let the front of George’s shirt go and his head thudded against the ground.

Apollo turned on his knees and cupped her sweet face with his unclean hands. “How?” he choked. “I saw you die. I saw you fall dead to the ground.”

“The pistol fired over my shoulder,” she whispered. “Apollo, what have you done to your poor hands?”

“God!” he cried, pulling her face down to his, kissing her nose and cheeks and eyelids, making sure she still lived and breathed. “Dear God, Lily, never do that to me again.”

“I won’t, love.” Tears were making muddy streaks through the gunpowder on her cheek. “Ow, that stings.”

Richard Perry, Baron Ross stepped out from the bushes. “Get away from her.”

“Sod off,” Apollo retorted, possibly because he was too tired to be surprised.

“Get away from her or I’ll shoot her.” Ross, of course, had not one but two pistols.

Reluctantly Apollo stood and took a step away from Lily. “We really must talk, darling, about the sort of riffraff you bring to secret meetings.”

“I didn’t know he was there,” Lily said grumpily.

“Did you really think my good friend George wouldn’t tell me about my son?” Ross said. “Jesus, he said this would be easy—capture you, Kilbourne, and get my son. Look at this mess now. Have you killed George?”

“Sadly, no,” Apollo replied without glancing at the man on the ground. He could hear his cousin’s harsh breathing. “Put the damned gun down.” He was becoming tired of people pointing guns at his Lily.

Ross ignored him, his gaze worryingly focused on Lily. “Where is he? Where is Indio?”

And before Apollo could think of what to do, Lily opened her mouth.

“Are you insane?” Lily asked Ross pleasantly. “Do you really think I’d tell you where he is after you beat his mother, my dearest friend, to death?”

“Tell me or I’ll shoot you,” he replied, not very originally, but it still put a thrill of fear into Apollo’s heart.

“Lily,” Apollo said gently.

Lily crossed her arms. “Go ahead, then. I’ll not give my son up to a rat like you.”

“Don’t you mean
my
son?” he snapped back, stupid and irate.

Apollo lost what little patience he still had. “Damn it, Montgomery, aren’t you
ever
going to act?”

“Oh, fine,” the duke replied sulkily from behind him and shot Richard in the leg.

Richard fell to the ground, moaning.

Lily blinked. “What—?”

The duke glanced at his pistol and frowned. “Pulls a bit to the right. I was aiming for his groin.” He toed Ross’s pistols away from the writhing man and turned to Apollo. “I’ll have you know this entire business has been a loss to me—a dead loss.”

Lily blinked again and looked uncertainly at Apollo. “How—?”

Apollo pulled her into his arms. He was still quite shaken from having nearly lost her, and the warmth of her body was a balm. “Shh. There’s no point in trying to get him to make sense. Best to just let him ramble. I learned that on the carriage ride to London.”

“He was such a lovely pigeon,” Montgomery said mournfully, watching Richard writhe on the ground. “A secret marriage, a hidden heir. I could’ve milked him for years.”

“You were going to blackmail him for money?” Lily asked.

“Money?” The duke looked affronted. “Nothing so crass. Information, knowledge, leverage. That’s the sort of stuff I adore. But”—Montgomery sighed gustily, folding his arms with his pistol dangling from one hand—“my sentimental heart got the better of me. That, and I really do want this garden finished. Kilbourne is the most imaginative gardener I’ve ever encountered.”

Lily’s eyes widened and she turned to Apollo as if only just now realizing something. “You brought him with you to meet me?”

He shrugged. “It seemed like a good precaution. After all, I intended to flee with you from England and I wasn’t sure if you’d be followed here.”

“But I thought you didn’t trust him,” she complained.

“I don’t, mostly.” He grimaced. “But he did help me get away from my uncle’s house.”

“And I shot Ross just now, too,” the duke said brightly. “Shall I shoot Greaves as well? No doubt he deserves it and I’ve another pistol in my pocket.”

At which point Edwin Stump burst from the shrubbery, followed closely by the Duke of Wakefield and Captain Trevillion. All three were holding pistols and breathing rather hard.

Apollo blinked.

“Are we late?” Edwin asked, panting.

“Yes,” Lily replied from Apollo’s arms. She sounded rather querulous.

“Good Lord, His Grace the Ass hiding in the bushes,” Apollo muttered. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“Ah, Kilbourne, you’ve regained your voice,” Wakefield drawled. “Pity, but I presume my wife is thrilled. And you are?” He looked pointedly at Montgomery.

Montgomery bowed mockingly, still holding his pistol. “Montgomery. And you’re Wakefield, yes?”

One of Wakefield’s eyebrows rose. “Quite.” He turned to Apollo. “I was told that we were here to save you. I see that I’ve been sadly misinformed.”

“You
would’ve
saved him had my brother been
on time
,” Lily said, glaring at Edwin.

“I’ve been shot,” Ross moaned from the ground.

George merely groaned.

Wakefield turned very slowly to Ross and said gently,
“Lord Ross, I believe? Your son from your first marriage is playing with my wife at the moment. She seems to have grown quite fond of him in a very short time. Felicitations on finding him alive and well. It’s not every day that one discovers one’s heir.”

Ross’s lip curled and Apollo wished that Montgomery’s aim had been better. “Then I’ll take him. He’s
my
son, after all.”

“I think not,” Wakefield murmured. “I’ve heard a rather distressing tale from two upstanding citizens regarding his mother’s death. If you would rather I not investigate the matter further—and I really think you
would
—I suggest you never attempt to see your heir again.”

For a moment it looked as if Ross would cry, and Apollo really couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Thank God,” Edwin Stump said, and sat abruptly on a charred log. “That’s over, then. I don’t mind telling you, Lily, that I near had an apoplexy when I got that message from you.”

Apollo frowned. “What message?”

“The message I had to slip to one of the footmen as I left Greaves House with George. I just hoped that Edwin would know what to do.” Lily looked at him in wonder. “And he did—even if he was a bit late.”

Edwin Stump actually looked bashful.

“I don’t understand.” Apollo frowned. “George caught you at the house party after I left?”

She nodded. “And kept a pistol on me practically all the way to London.”

He felt his heart stop. Fool. He should’ve realized he would put her in a position of danger when he fled. “I’m sorry, love. I should’ve never left you there.”

She shook her head. “You weren’t to know he would do that—and had you stayed you’d be in Bedlam right now. You had to run, Apollo.”

He grimaced, still not ready to absolve himself of blame. Things could’ve turned out far, far worse. “So you slipped your brother a message to go to Trevillion?”

“And to go to your sister,” Lily said. “After all, she’s a duchess. I thought that might help.”

Trevillion cleared his throat. “I decided His Grace might, in this case, be more useful.”

“Then why in God’s name did you grab for George’s pistol when you knew help was coming?” Apollo asked.

“They weren’t here yet and he was going to shoot you,” she said, placing her palms on his chest. “I couldn’t let him.”

His throat closed and he couldn’t reply. All he could do was pull her into his arms and hold her close.

Someone cleared their voice.

He didn’t care in the slightest.

Edwin toed George Greaves, who was still moaning very quietly. “What are we going to do with him?” He glanced at Ross and winced. “
Them?
”

Wakefield drew himself up. “As it’s quite clear that Montgomery shot Ross to save Miss Goodfellow’s life, I shall make a full report to the courts and deal with the matter myself. Sadly, as he’s titled, he’ll probably serve no time in prison.
However
, the scandal of trying to murder one of London’s most famous actresses might make a sojourn abroad seem quite a nice prospect. As for Greaves…”

“He murdered those men,” Lily said from Apollo’s arms. “I’m quite sure of it. I just have no way of proving it.”

“No, I didn’t!” George gasped rather unconvincingly from the ground.

“As to that.” Trevillion cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of having the valet, Vance, detained after you left the house party. Montgomery told me that you recognized him, Lord Kilbourne. It seems Vance was in George Greaves’s service before he went to William Greaves’s employ. When I informed Vance that he’d been seen on the night of the murders at the tavern he became quite talkative.”

“What?” George screamed.

“You really ought to employ more intelligent assassins, Mr. Greaves.” Trevillion smiled coldly. “He seemed to think I had all the evidence needed to hang him and confessed embarrassingly fast. And since you apparently never paid him well, he’s quite vindictive. He told me in front of witnesses that you hired him to kill Lord Kilbourne’s friends in an attempt to paint Kilbourne a murderer.”

“It’s not true,” George whispered.

“I’m afraid your father heard the confession and was stricken with the shock,” Trevillion said softly.

“My uncle never knew?” Apollo asked.

Trevillion shook his head. “I think not. When I left Greaves House he’d taken to his bed and a doctor had been sent for. They’re not sure he’ll recover.”

George swore foully, red-tinged spittle flecking his lips. He glared at Apollo. “You should never have been the heir—your line is tainted. Had Brightmore not intervened you would’ve hanged for sure instead of being sent to Bedlam. Everyone knows you’re insane—everyone! I should’ve killed you myself instead of sending Vance.”

“Now we have your confession,” Trevillion murmured gently. “And in the presence of two dukes.”

Trevillion bent to haul George to his feet, which put an end to his cursing. The captain looked quietly satisfied.

Wakefield nodded grimly. “Excellent.” He turned to Apollo. “I think we’ll be able to clear your name within days. Artemis will be very pleased—and I won’t have to worry anymore about her sneaking off with baskets of provisions for you.”

“So glad to put your mind at rest,” Apollo said drily. He looked at Lily. “Shall we go see how Indio and Daff are faring with my sister’s dogs?”

She nodded, and he took her hand, leading her from his garden.

I
T WAS VERY
late—well past midnight—before Lily retired to bed. There had been the reunion with Indio, made even more chaotic by the duke’s four dogs—two greyhounds, a silly spaniel, and an elderly white lapdog—all of whom Daffodil seemed to regard as very large play toys. There had been the rather nerve-racking introduction to Apollo’s sister, who, no matter how nice she seemed, was after all a
duchess
. There had been a positively decadent bath followed by a very good late-night supper of roast duck and baby carrots.

So it was understandable that Lily didn’t at first notice the very large man in her bed when she entered the room assigned to her.

When she did, she stopped dead and hissed, “You can’t be in here!”

The covers were pulled to his waist, but he appeared to be quite naked underneath.

“Why not?” Apollo asked, apparently having forgotten all the social niceties that
someone
must’ve taught him as a small child.

“Because this is your sister’s house.”

He cocked his head. “Actually it’s His Grace the Ass’s house, but I do see your meaning. You know she’s a floor above us?”

“Why do you even call him that?” she asked as she began removing her bodice. “He seems a perfectly nice man, if a bit stiff, and as I understand it, he actually rescued you from Bedlam.”

Apollo frowned ferociously. “He seduced my sister before they were married.”

She looked at him, eyebrow raised.

“
And
he’s an ass. But mostly it’s my sister.”

“So if Edwin chose to call you out over your very thorough debauchment of me…?”

“He’d be well within his rights,” he assured her. “In fact, he really ought to.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, and honestly she rather thought he
wasn’t
.

“Gentlemen have very odd minds,” she commented as she slipped out of her skirt.

“We do,” he replied lazily. “For instance, I’d rather like you to become my wife.”

She was silent, frowning as she unlaced her stays.

After a moment he cleared his throat. “This is where many a gentleman might think that it’s ladies who have odd minds.”

“Richard—”

“Please don’t do me the insult of comparing me to that worm,” he said, quietly and seriously.

“I’m sorry,” she said at once, because she was. Apollo was nothing like Richard and she more than anyone else knew that. “But you must understand: even without his violence, I don’t think their marriage would’ve been a happy one.”

He rolled to his side and propped himself up on his arm. “You’re still comparing,” he said gently. “I don’t give a damn about bloodlines. I think today’s events more than prove that only madmen do, really.”

She swallowed, pulling off her stays gingerly. “Your family won’t like an actress for your wife.”

“My family consists of Artemis and, I suppose by default, His Grace the Ass. Did you find either of them unwelcoming?”

“No, but—”

“And they won’t be.” He rose, gloriously nude, and walked to her, taking her hands. “Lily, my light, my love. What are you afraid of?”

“I…” she began and then couldn’t answer because she didn’t know what it was she feared. She looked up at him helplessly.

He smiled his gentle smile and brought her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing each fingertip. “I love you and you love me. I might’ve been in a little doubt before this afternoon, but when you flung yourself in front of a pistol, it did rather clarify things. And, since you love me and I love you, it is right and meet and wonderful that you and I become man and wife and spend the rest of our lives sleeping together and rising together and having masses of children together and living joyfully.”