Authors: Elizabeth Michels
Just then the door to the office burst open and Solomon came outside. “What have you done?”
“What I should have done long ago. Our business dealings are over, Phillips,” Devon stated as the ships continued to burn. Embers fell around them and smoke filled the air.
“You’re burning my ships!”
“They were mine to burn.”
“You truly are mad,” Solomon said, gazing up at the column of flames from the ships. Solomon turned, bellowing to the group of his employees that had made their way outside to see what was happening. “Seize him!”
Four large men walked Devon’s way, grabbing at his coat sleeves. He didn’t care anymore. Let them take him. Throw him in prison. Kill him. It would make no difference. Lily was beyond his reach. She was like the smoke that swirled around his body; she surrounded him but he couldn’t grasp her in his fingers. He felt callused hands wrap around his wrists only to be replaced by rope. At some point, Steelings stepped in, throwing punches.
“You will not be taking him anywhere!” Steelings cried as he cracked one man’s jaw, then caught another across the eye. “Thornwood, you want to assist me a bit?”
Devon didn’t answer, only stared at the flames crawling higher and higher into the darkening sky. When he glanced back, three men had Steelings pinned against the stone wall of the building.
“I’ll have you brought up on charges!” Solomon was screaming beside him. “You can’t do this and get away with it!”
Devon observed another mast cracking and falling with a crash into the water before them. “I believe I just did.”
“But you won’t get away with it, Thornwood!” Solomon moved closer to where Devon stood with his hands tied behind his back. Looking into Devon’s eyes with a gleam lighting their darkness, Solomon smiled. “Do you think this will change my mind about my sister’s betrothal? Because that will never happen!”
“I didn’t think it would. I simply didn’t want the ships you built,” Devon offered with a shrug of his shoulders. He could hear Steelings struggling against the men a few feet away, but he didn’t turn to look at his friend.
“You don’t even know what you’ve begun. You see, I sold a fleet of ships to Harrow just yesterday, your ships. These ships,” Solomon stated as he rose up on his toes in an attempt to look Devon in the eye. “I sent a note this morning to let you know of the change.”
“Harrow’s ships?” Devon quirked his lips as the railing of one ship finally gave way to the flames and crumbled into the water.
“He doubled your payment, among other things…”
“Then he’s a fool.”
Solomon turned at the splash of wood hitting water. When he turned back toward Devon, his face was twisted into an expression of victory. “Say what you will. You’ll be in chains within the hour for this, while I celebrate my new alliance with Harrow. I have much more to gain than these two…” He pressed a finger into Devon’s chest. “Little ships.” “
“And what gain is that, Phillips?” Devon looked down at the man with a sneer.
“He is going to turn my small business into a pinnacle of modern achievement.”
“Ha!” Devon let out a bark-like laugh. “How is that?”
“A contract for the Crown.” Solomon laced his hands behind his back and rocked up onto his toes.
Devon’s eyes narrowed on him. “Building ships for the Royal Navy? That is what you’re after?”
“You’ve attended meetings at the House of Lords. You must have seen this unfolding, Thornwood.” Solomon stalked away from Devon. Stopping to turn with a snap, his eyes widened before narrowing to slits. He took several paces back toward Devon to add, “You knew all along, didn’t you? Hingsworth, Amberstall, Erdway, Harrow…They all have seats on His Majesty’s Treasury. And you thought you could be rid of them, didn’t you?” Solomon asked with a snarl. “You thought you could pull off your little schemes without notice. So you could give the contract to some friend of yours, I’m sure! Some peer who thinks he’s better than I am. I come from a titled family, too, you know! But none of that matters now, because you didn’t succeed.”
Devon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A ship-building contract? That was what all of this was about? “I have no interest in your business or that damned contract! All I want is your sister. All I want is Lily.”
Solomon clearly hadn’t heard him since he was still speaking. “I’m going to hold the contract for all the Navy’s vessels and you will be left with nothing.”
“You’re selling your sister off for rights to a contract? Are you mad?”
“No. I’m the sane one here. I saw a business opportunity and I took it.”
“And what of Lily?”
“
Lillian
will marry Harrow, of course. I’m sure she will live out her days at his estate in the country doing whatever ladies do with their time.” Solomon waved away the thought with the back of his hand.
“All so you can build more ships? She’s your sister!” Devon began to pull at the bonds holding his wrists behind his back.
A man stepped through the swirling smoke, and another voice entered the argument. “He won’t be building anything more than a shipping rig if I have any say in the matter.” The Marquess of Elandor neared from a carriage parked at the end of the pier. “And I believe I do have a say in the matter.”
“Elandor, what are you doing here?” Devon shook his head in wonder at why the man kept appearing wherever he went today.
“I followed you here from a friend’s home,” he replied to Devon before turning toward Solomon. His stance said he was unaffected by the burning of ships or the argument he had walked into. The air of power about him was truly something to be admired.
“Mr. Phillips, from what I’ve heard, you have entered into some agreement with Lord Harrow involving naval ships, offering the winnings of a wager at White’s along your sister, Miss Phillips, as some sort of prize. I regret to inform you that this action will not succeed.”
Devon’s chest contracted at the possibility of the truth in his words. “Elandor, what do you know of this?”
Elandor was calm, his tone unhurried as he spoke. “Thornwood, when I asked you a month ago to join my little group within the House of Lords, I was sincere. As titles are passed from generation to generation, we do not always retain the most devoted gentlemen in power.” He shook his head with a look of disappointment clouding his eyes. “I truly could use you to balance the weight of the corruption I have found. I only apologize that your involvement had to come about in such a fashion.”
Solomon stepped forward. “While this is a lovely scene of heartfelt love among the peerage, I fail to see what it has to do with the ship-building contract that is now mine. You see, Harrow has already agreed to my terms.” Solomon pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket and waved it in the air.
“Mr. Phillips, what you fail to see is a great deal.” Elandor paused to give Solomon a look filled with pity. “As it happens, Lord Harrow has no power or authority to grant such a contract to any company without my approval…as I am head of the Treasury, not he. If I’m correct, he only wanted to possess Miss Phillips as some sort of personal vendetta against Thornwood here. Why else would he offer you twice the worth of the ships due to Thornwood?”
“He can keep his blasted ships,” Devon stated over the sound of wood crackling and burning.
“It’s true they don’t seem quite seaworthy at the moment,” Elandor mused.
Solomon’s face was turning a deep purple as the knowledge sank into his thick skull. “That cannot be! He signed a document! The contract is mine!”
Elandor stepped forward and pulled the document from Solomon’s grasp. “The word of a deceitful man is of little value.” He tore the parchment in half, stacked the pieces, and tore them again. “You would do well to remember that,” Elandor offered as he moved past a shocked Solomon to where Steelings was trapped under the weight of three dockworkers, with his mouth bound.
“Let him go.” Hearing the simply stated words spoken with the marquess’s customary tone of authority, the men gave up the fight and stepped away. Steelings shook out his coat and tugged on his cuffs with a menacing glare aimed at the men.
“Are you hurt, Steelings?”
“No, I am fine, thank you,” Steelings said, stepping forward to unbind Devon’s hands.
“Wait!” Solomon bellowed. “You cannot let them go! They burned the ships I spent the better part of a year building! They can’t get away with such action!”
Devon shook the feeling back into his hands. “By rights they were my ships and I can burn them if I damn well want to.”
“This isn’t over, Thornwood! Harrow will set it right. This is but a small battle, when the announcement of my sister’s betrothal will be taking place in only a few minutes’ time. Once that is done, she is as good as wed in the eyes of the
ton
—with or without a contract. I will see to it that she is never yours.” Solomon shook his coat into place. “If you will excuse me, I have a ball to attend.” He turned and walked away, stepping up into Elandor’s carriage, and was gone.
Steelings stepped forward with a look of amazement on his face. “Elandor, he just stole your carriage.”
“I know. Let him go. We’ll make better time on horseback anyway.”
“Better time where?” Devon asked.
“To the ball,” Elandor returned with a smile.
“But it’s too late. You heard Solomon. She’s as good as wed.”
“Not if we get there first,” Steelings cut in.
Devon looked the two men over as if they were the mad ones. “Once we arrive, what are we to do? Push Harrow to the floor while I steal his bride?”
“If a more diplomatic resolution cannot be reached, then yes, that is exactly what we do,” Elandor stated.
Devon couldn’t believe any of this. “Elandor, why are you doing this? Why do you care?”
The marquess ran a hand across weary eyes before answering. “Because I happen to love the brother of the lady in question. And he is quite upset by all of this.”
Suddenly everything fell into place. Elandor’s presence at Nathaniel’s house. His confirmed bachelor status. His involvement tonight. Devon’s eyes widened. “I see.” He glanced at Steelings to discern his reaction, only to see a concerned nod of agreement. “Elandor, you have my word, this information remains on the London docks this evening.”
“Good. Now, we must hurry.”
The three men ran for their horses. Poseidon was pawing at the ground in anticipation when they reached him. Devon unwound the tether and gained his seat on the large gray’s back. Looking back toward his ships now lighting the night sky, he took a breath. His dealings with Lily’s brother may be over but he had not yet won Lily’s hand.
His and Lily’s fate was affixed to the hands of the clock that ticked steadily past. It was a fool’s errand. He would never make it to the ball in time. And once there, if they tried to interfere, the chances were strong they would be thrown from the ballroom. Would they even be allowed entrance? The ball was at the Bixley residence, after all.
“Elandor, what will you ride?” Devon heard Steelings ask.
“If Mr. Phillips can steal my carriage, I believe I can return the favor without fault.” He swung up onto the back of a chestnut mare and turned with a grin.
“Let’s go, then.” Devon glanced over his shoulder one last time at the crumbling black mass of wood in the harbor. Urging Poseidon into a gallop, he turned up the street toward the Bixley residence. He had burned his old dreams and his future security to ashes tonight; he only hoped it wasn’t in vain.
If he arrived too late, he would be forced to watch as Lily held Harrow’s arm at events. He would have to endure the knowledge of what would happen in their marriage bed. He would see Lily about town one day large with Harrow’s heir.
His speed increased with every passing thought. Buildings soared by as he raced up the street. He was going to be too late.
Lily, wait for me. Wait for me.
He knew she had no control over any of this, but he sent a silent plea into the cool night air anyway.
“Thornwood, you know, I was thinking…” Steelings shouted, bent over the mane of his horse to gain additional speed as they galloped down the street. “I believe this might be the first time you’ve raced toward a ball.” He laughed as they turned a corner and picked up their pace again. “It seems you’ve always been going in the reverse direction.”
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t laugh just now,” Devon growled as he pulled into the lead of the three once more. The Bixley home was four blocks away. Time was passing. The announcement could have been made already.
Three blocks away. The guests could be toasting the couple’s future happiness at this very moment.
Two blocks away. Lily could already be dancing with Harrow by now.
Finally, Devon saw his destination in the distance. Carriages lined the street, indicating a large crowd. It must be due to the resolution of that damned bet on the book at White’s. How he hated Solomon for what he was doing to Lily.
Gritting his teeth, he veered through the carriages, startling two horses along the way. Barreling down the sidewalk, he watched as one driver, then two gentlemen dove out of his path. He pulled up on Poseidon’s reins, slowing the horse to a stop at the bottom of the steps to a large brick home with candles blazing in every window.
He dismounted and gave his horse a quick pat on the shoulder before bounding up the stairs. A moment later he was inside, and Steelings and Elandor had caught up to him. The sound of music from the orchestra filled the air as he made his way through the foyer.
He forced his way around ladies and past gentlemen. They all seemed to be giving him looks of shock and disdain. Glancing down, he realized he was not wearing evening attire and also was covered in soot. Heston may murder him later, but right now, he didn’t care. He had to find Lily. He rounded the corner of the hallway leading to the ballroom and came face to face with Lord Bixley.
A woman twirled past as she turned the corner of the dance floor, her skirts brushing the edge of Lillian’s light green silk gown. She had chosen the color because it was almost the exact color of the painted walls in the ballroom. With any luck she would simply disappear into the wall at her back. Excited smiles were thrown her way by everyone who passed, but so far no one had stopped to chat. Grateful for this small blessing but not sure how long it would last, she took a step backward into the shadow of a large potted palm.
She smoothed her skirts for the third time in five minutes and twined her gloved fingers together in front of her to keep them still. Her entire life came down to this. It was depressing, really, to think that she had lived for the purpose of serving those around her, namely her family, only to end up bargained off and gambled upon. All of London seemed to have come out tonight to witness her shame. As the minutes ticked by, dread filled her, turning her stomach and making her throat clench.
Sue arrived at her side with two glasses of champagne. “I thought you could use this.”
“Thank you,” Lillian offered with a wooden smile as she turned up the glass, finished it to the last drop, and set the empty glass on a nearby pedestal.
Sue laid her hand on Lillian’s arm in reassurance. For once, her friend appeared to be at a loss for words. Across the ballroom, Harrow shook hands with gentlemen and laughed in great guffaws. For some reason, he was sporting two blackened eyes and a broken nose. She was going to be sick. “Sue, what if I run? Where could I go that no one would find me?”
“I have a seldom used wardrobe in my bedchamber,” Sue offered.
“I somehow don’t think I could live out my days inside your old wardrobe.” Lillian stared ahead at the swirl of colors on the ballroom floor.
“Under the servants’ stairs, then?” Sue asked with a raised brow.
Lillian pulled her gaze from those dancing. “No, I suppose I must face this fate with dignity, not hide under stairs. How bad could it be, anyway?” she bluffed.
Sue’s head tilted to the side with a look of extreme pity. “Oh Lillian,” was all she said.
“Let’s not speak of it. Let’s talk of…” But Lillian’s mind was blank. Only the bleak future that was going to be announced soon filled her thoughts.
She should have accepted Devon when he asked for her hand. She should have left with him. This was all because she was upset over some silly boats. In the face of her present circumstances, that mattered less and less by the second. What had she been thinking? She was glad she had confessed her love to him. At least he knew now how she felt. Even if it was of little consolation to her now.
Would he come tonight? Her eyes searched the crowd before coming to rest on the floor before her toes. He wasn’t here. Not that she expected him to be. He had said good-bye. She might never see him again. Her chest tightened. Surely she would see him at some point around town, even if from a great distance. Of course, he would eventually move on. He would dance with other ladies. He would marry another. He would have children.
“The influence of Italian opera on British composers,” Sue blurted out, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Pardon me?” Lillian had been woolgathering but the subject did seem to change rather abruptly.
“It’s a topic to discuss,” Sue pleaded. “I’m sorry, Lillian. I just hate to see you like this.”
“I know. But I will survive.”
Nathaniel slipped through the crowd to join them in their corner of the ballroom. “Ladies,” he offered, coming to Lillian’s side. “I thought you could use some company. I spoke with Josiah a bit ago. He’s waiting for Solomon to arrive before the announcement is made. Of course, if Solomon takes much longer…” He broke off to glance at his watch. “Josiah will go ahead with things.”
Lillian nodded in acceptance. There was a moment when silence fell over them, with Nathaniel and Sue exchanging uncomfortable glances.
Sue’s eyes darted around for a moment, clearly in search of a pleasant topic to discuss, before she said, “Mr. Phillips, I do like your waistcoat this evening. The blue suits you.”
Nathaniel looked down at his attire. “Oh, this? I got it ages ago and never wore it.”
“Is that a thread of gold woven into the fabric?” Sue asked with a little too much interest for someone who never wore much ornamentation herself.
“Yes, it is.” Nathaniel beamed.
“Would you two please stop making conversation to pass this dreadful hour? I would rather wait in silence, if you please. Sorry, I know you mean well, but…” She broke off when the music died and Josiah stepped up onto the platform where the orchestra sat.
Her heart hammered in her chest. This was it. Her life as she knew it was over. Perhaps it was good for it to be over. If she hurried to marry Lord Harrow and could survive her wedding night, then perhaps he would abandon her at some estate in the country and she could live out her days alone.
The image of Devon floated through her thoughts. But she must stop thinking of him. He was out of her life forever. Her fingers tightened where they were laced together.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank all of you for coming tonight to celebrate this most joyous occasion for our family.”
Lillian froze. Nathaniel gripped her elbow to keep her from swaying. Sue shifted uncomfortably at her side.
She glanced once at the door leading to the garden, not six paces away. Turning her focus back to Josiah, she saw Lord Harrow making his way to the front of the room, gentlemen clapping him on the back as he went. Josiah tucked a finger into his collar to loosen it. She swallowed and licked her lips in an effort to paste on a smile. However, her face would not cooperate.
Just then, some sort of altercation occurred near the doorway. Josiah turned with an alarmed look. She rose to her toes to see over the crowd. She could hear a few screams. Then something crashed. What was happening? She looked over at Nathaniel to see a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
“You will not get away with this!” The cry came from the entrance to the ballroom. There was a thud and another crash. Josiah’s eyes widened for a moment. He turned and watched whatever was happening before nodding to someone Lillian could not see. Harrow had stopped at the front of the crowd, his dark hair just visible over the crowd.
Josiah cleared his throat and attempted to speak over the commotion. “Please excuse the interruption.” There were a few grunts and a thud from the doorway. Then the room grew silent except for the buzz of whispers across the crowd. “It is my pleasure to announce tonight the betrothal of my sister, Miss Lillian Phillips, to…” He glanced toward the doorway with one of his superior looks of smugness. “The Duke of Thornwood.”
Harrow roared in anger.
Polite applause filled Lillian’s ears. Had she heard that correctly? Had she imagined his name being said? Devon stepped up onto the platform. How had this happened? Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Devon! How could this be?
“Thank you, Lord Bixley, for bestowing on me this great honor. I am pleased to soon be part of your family.” Devon lifted a glass to more applause and chatter over the news. He smiled to the crowd, his white teeth gleaming in his dark face.
Why did he look so dark? His face was blackened, as were his clothes. And he was still wearing his clothes from this afternoon. Lillian started walking forward. He clearly had not yet seen her, since his gaze roamed the masses packed into the room.
“Excuse me.” She moved past groupings of gathered people. “Pardon me.” She elbowed her way past others. The crowd seemed unaware they were blocking her way. Then once they noticed her, everyone wanted to offer their congratulations. Devon. She didn’t want to stop and chat now, all she wanted was Devon.
When she finally neared the front of the room, the crowd parted and she could see him fully for the first time. He was covered from head to toe with what appeared to be soot. Where had he been these last few hours and how was he here now? Her betrothed? All she could do was stare. He watched her come near, a question lurking somewhere behind his eyes and drawing his brows together.
Devon stepped down from the platform, setting aside his glass of champagne. He walked toward her, closing the gap between them, his storm-cloud eyes never leaving hers. Stopping before her, he grasped her hands in his. Everyone paused their continuous stream of whispers to listen.
He must have noticed their audience for he signaled the orchestra to begin playing again. Turning back to her, he rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand in a caress that left dark smudges on her white glove. He pulled her to the side of the dance floor as a dance began. “Lily, I know we quarreled this afternoon.”
“Yes.” She could not tear her eyes away from their joined hands. He was here? He was here and they were to be wed?
“When I left here, I thought I might never see you again,” he murmured in a deep rumble so only she could hear.
“I know.” She looked up, her eyes catching his and refusing to let go.
“But I want to spend my life with you by my side. If you will…”
“How?” How could this be real?
“I suppose through marriage. Living in the same home and all that our nuptials entail.” He spoke in a slow, deliberate tone, nodding his head as if explaining life to a child.
“No…” That hadn’t been what she meant.
“No?” he asked, his eyes flaring with emotion.
“No…I mean, yes…um…how is this possible?” Confusion washed over her in great waves.
“Circumstances changed in the agreement with Harrow. As soon as Bixley heard the full tale…” Devon glanced toward the doorway.
She shook her head in disbelief. Looking around at Josiah, she watched him walk toward the ballroom entrance. It was then that she saw the aftermath of the argument she could only hear earlier. Was that Solomon lying unconscious on the floor? Her eyes widened. Two men seemed to be guarding his body. When the crowd shifted, she could see they were Lord Steelings and the Marquess of Elandor. Why were they standing over Solomon? Their faces were blackened just like Devon’s.
Broken china littered the floor, and a broken mirror hung on the wall behind them. Oh my. Harrow was there now as well. He appeared to be having words with Josiah as he nudged Solomon’s limp form with his toe. Just then Elandor slammed Harrow against the wall with a thud. She looked back to Devon in dismay.
“The new arrangement was not without incident,” he said cryptically.
“I can see that.” She was not sure what had transpired this afternoon. She only knew she was standing here with her hands wrapped inside Devon’s warm grasp.
The soft chords of a waltz began humming around her.
“Why don’t we continue this discussion while we dance.”
“Yes, that would be lovely.” As Devon swept her into a waltz, she could hardly believe she was in his arms again. This afternoon she’d thought she had said good-bye to him forever. Now, here she was dancing with him, her future husband. His face held a look of trepidation as he guided her around the floor.
“I only hope that in time you can forgive me for not telling you of the ships.”
“It did hurt to discover their existence from Solomon,” she conceded. The muscles in his shoulder tensed under her hand.
“I promise, Lily, it will never happen again.” He pulled her closer as they revolved around the floor.
The warmth of his hand on her back seeped into her bones, relaxing her into his open arms. “Good. But really, I should have guessed as much. You mentioned your shipping investments, and then there are your explorations. I’ve known that since we first met. Ships
are
usually required to travel to foreign lands. I was simply surprised that my brother was the one keeping you in ships. You could have told me. I would have understood.”
“I know that now. If I could go back and change my actions, I would.”
“Will it happen again? Can I trust you?”
“Lily, I will never keep things from you again. But also, it will never happen again because I no longer have the ships.”
“You sold them?”
“No, I burned them.”
“You…burned them.” Her eyes raked over his soot-smudged face and the smears of black across his cravat and shirt. “You said you needed them.”
“Not as much as I needed to burn them.” He grinned down at her.
“You do look a bit like a chimney sweep this evening.” She laughed. “You truly burned them…are you mad?”
“Well, they say I am. Perhaps they’re right. I know I’m mad for you right now.”
“Devon, shhh. Don’t say such things in the middle of the ballroom.”
“That, Lily, is an easily solvable problem.” He shifted their direction in an instant, waltzing through the open door to the garden.
When they were outside the edge of yellow candlelight coming from the ballroom, he stopped their dance, yet didn’t let her go. Their arms tangled together as he dropped their joined hands to his sides. The moon dripped silver streams of light between the tree branches, pooling at their feet.
“Devon, are we really to be wed?”
“Yes, although I believe I have neglected to officially ask you.” He cleared his throat. “Lily, marry me.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Hmmm, all right…Lily, will you be my wife?”
“That ballroom just there is filled with the finest members of the peerage, who tell me I will in fact be your wife. And yet you still have not asked me.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Now that was a question, and yes I am. After all you put me through, I believe I deserve some enjoyment.”
“Lily.” He said her name with narrowed eyes that contradicted the grin tugging at his mouth. “Would you marry me?” His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her closer.
“Yes.” She whispered the word as her hand wrapped around his neck, reveling in the feel of his soft hair brushing against her fingers. His lips lowered to hers, kissing her until she leaned into him. He dropped his hold on her other hand to slide his hand over her rear, pulling her against him as he deepened their kiss. “Someone will see us.”
“We are to be married. What they see doesn’t matter anymore.”