A Season of Ruin (5 page)

“Unless . . .” Ellie said.

Every head at the table turned toward her.

“What, Eleanor?” Charlotte asked. “Unless what?”

“I have an idea,” Eleanor said. “But the success of it depends entirely on Robyn.”

Now every head turned in his direction. Robyn put his fork down on his plate. It depended entirely on him?
Christ
. He didn't like the sound of that.

“The
ton
will expect one of two things, now Mrs. Tittleton has tattled Lily's business all over town. You can leave London under a cloud of shame, in which case it will be assumed you are guilty of an indiscretion and the Sutherlands acknowledge your guilt, or—”

“We acknowledge nothing of the sort!” Charlotte interrupted. “Alec will never agree to see Lily or Delia humiliated
in such a way. Why, he's liable to go mad if he sees Delia's name has been mentioned in such a scandalous, libelous—”

“Or,” Eleanor continued, speaking over her sister, “Lily can be seen all over London with her excessively attentive, correct, very proper escort.”

Lily stared at Eleanor. “
What
excessively proper escort?”

Eleanor smiled. “Why, Robyn, of course.”

Robyn choked on a swallow of coffee and Charlotte had to raise her voice to be heard above his sputters and gasps. “Robyn! Have you lost your wits, Eleanor?”

“Not at all. Don't you see? If he'd truly compromised Lily, he'd either have to marry her, or—oh, for goodness' sake, Robyn!” Eleanor broke off, annoyed. “Don't look so appalled. I'm not suggesting you actually marry. I'd never wish such a rogue as you on Lily.”

Robyn pounded on his chest with a fist to clear his windpipe. “Wise of you.”

“Either he'd marry her,” Ellie continued, “or else she'd drop out of sight for good and leave all the dowagers to shake their heads over her corrupted virtue. The
ton
will never expect to see something else entirely.”

Charlotte was smiling now. “You mean, a notorious rake escorting a debutante all over London?”

“Exactly,” Eleanor said. “He isn't marrying her, so he can't have compromised her. He isn't avoiding her, and she hasn't fallen from the face of the earth, so he can't have compromised her. However one looks at it, he can't have compromised her.”

Charlotte clapped her hands in glee. “Oh, Ellie, you're brilliant! It's even better because Robyn
is
such a notorious rake. The
ton
won't know what to make of it.”

Ellie nodded with satisfaction. “He'll escort her all over London with the full approval of the Sutherland family. We'll simply brazen it out until the gossip dies down. It soon will, with nothing to feed it.”

“It will slow things down with Lord Atherton,” Charlotte
said to Lily, “for he's bound to think Robyn is courting you. Then again, a little competition may be just what we want. After all, Lord Atherton doesn't know you regard Robyn as a brother.”

A brother?
Oh, certainly, if a sister was in the habit of sticking her tongue in her brother's mouth and practically shoving her breasts under his fingers.

So he was expected to sacrifice his own pleasures in order for Lily to snag Atherton? If he agreed to this scheme, he'd never have a moment's peace.

Robyn glanced at Lily. Her face betrayed nothing, but he imagined she thought any solution that depended upon him was an appallingly bad idea.

Well, it
was
a bad idea. Ridiculous, to cast him as the heroic knight of London society when he was far more likely to puncture himself with his sword or drop Lily from the white horse than rescue her.

So he'd involved her in one of his scandals. What of it? It was a simple accident, nothing more. Perhaps she did have a right to expect him to help her out of it, but what difference did that make to him? Other people had made the mistake of expecting things from him, and he never troubled himself much about any of
them
. This was no different, and anyway, Charlotte and Eleanor exaggerated the matter. The
ton
would move on to more promising gossip quickly enough, with or without him.

And Lily—if he agreed to help her, she'd expect far more than he had any intention of delivering. She was the type of woman who did. The type he avoided, as if they carried some contagious disease. He sought out women like Alicia for a reason. They didn't ask for a thing from him except sensual pleasure. He could give them that, and they were never disappointed. It saved a great deal of fuss and bother if no one expected much more from him.

But not Lily. She looked like she was about to take orders at the nearest convent in her severe blue gown. He could
hardly believe she was the same woman who'd kissed him with such sweet passion last night.

Maybe she and Atherton would suit, after all.

“What about Almack's?” Charlotte asked. “We still don't have a voucher for Lily.”

“I'll get the voucher,” Robyn heard himself say.

Once again, every head turned in his direction. Eleanor's eyebrows rose. “How will—”

“Never mind
how
. I said I'll get the blasted voucher, and I will.”

It happened he could get the elusive voucher with very little inconvenience to himself, as he knew just the scoundrel who could lay his hands on one. It was an easy enough promise to make, and though it may have escaped his sisters' attention, he hadn't promised another damn thing. He'd get the voucher, fulfill his obligation to Lily, and then he'd be free to wash his hands of the whole affair.

Eleanor and Charlotte lapsed into a happy silence. They didn't seem to notice that Lily hadn't said a word.

It was midafternoon before Lily arrived at Alec and Delia's town house in Grosvenor Street. To her surprise, she was taken to Delia's bedchamber instead of her private sitting room. She found her sister stretched out on the bed.

Lady Catherine hovered over Delia with a cool cloth. “Oh, Lily. I'm glad you've come.” She kissed Delia's cheek and rose from her place at the side of the bed. “I'm not sure if I should worry more about Delia, or Alec,” Lady Catherine murmured to Lily.

The shades were drawn to keep the glare out, but even in the dim room Lily could see Delia looked pale and exhausted. “It's all right, isn't it?”

“Oh, yes. It's a good sign she's so ill, as it means the child is strong. That's little enough comfort to her now, though, I'm sure. It wasn't a comfort to me when I carried Robyn.”

“Robyn behaved abominably
even in the womb
? That is, I mean to say, Robyn made you ill?”

Blast it.

Lady Catherine didn't seem to notice Lily's gaffe. “Oh, dear me, yes! I felt quite miserable, I'm afraid, and my husband wasn't ever there to . . .” She trailed off, as if not sure how to finish the sentence.

Lily jumped in to cover the silence. “I saw Alec downstairs. He looks exhausted. Delia says he's so worried for her and the child, he doesn't sleep well.”

Lady Catherine smiled proudly. “Alec is going to make a fine father, and as long as Delia can keep a little food and water down, she'll be fine, as well.”

“I'll stay with her for the afternoon if you like.” Lily held out her hand for the cloth.

Lady Catherine handed it to her and crossed over to the bed to pat Delia's hand. “I must be off. Feel better, dear.”

On her way out the door, Lady Catherine stopped and laid a hand on Lily's cheek. “You're a good girl, Lily. I know you want everything to be well, but this takes time and patience. Promise me you won't wear yourself out with worry over it.”

Lily smiled at her. Over the past few months Lady Catherine had become almost a mother to her, and like all mothers, she saw everything. “No, my lady. I won't.”

“Good.” Lady Catherine kissed her cheek and disappeared through the door, leaving the two sisters alone.

Lily hurried to the side of the bed and took her sister's cold, clammy hand. She could see a fine sheen of sweat on Delia's brow. “Oh, dear. You do look ill, Delia.”

Delia gave a weak nod. “If I look as awful as I feel, I must look like death itself. I've heard of ladies who suffer thus in the early months of pregnancy, but I never imagined it would be so dreadful.”

Lily squeezed her hand. “Well, perhaps it's a good sign you're so ill, for it likely means you're carrying the heir.”

Delia had closed her eyes, but at this she opened them again. “Indeed? Why do you think so?”

Lily stood up and wandered around the room. She picked
up Delia's hairbrush, studied it, and set it back down again. “It must be a boy. Only a man could cause so much misery.”

Delia raised her head from the pillows. “My goodness, Lily. What a cynical thing to say.”

Lily didn't answer. She crossed the room to the settee, gathered the pillows there, and placed them behind Delia. “There. That's better.”

Delia leaned back with a sigh. “Thank you. Now, is there anything in particular you'd like to talk about?”

Lily wandered over to Delia's dressing table and began to rearrange the items scattered across it so they lined up evenly. If she changed the subject now, she knew Delia wouldn't press her. She always told her sister everything, but then she'd never had much to tell before. Now she hesitated, and the worst of it was, she didn't know
why
, for she was desperate to unburden herself.

She supposed she was embarrassed. Perhaps if she led up to it slowly—

“Robyn kissed me!”

Lily snapped her mouth shut, horrified. She'd intended it as a confession of sorts, but it sounded more like an accusation, as if she were telling tales on Robyn.

For pity's sake. She was worse than Mrs. Tittleton.

But if Delia was shocked, she gave no sign of it. She settled herself more comfortably against her pillows. “Well? Did you enjoy it?”

Lily's mouth fell open again. “Delia! What kind of question is that?”

Delia chuckled. “A rhetorical one, for there's no need for you to answer. I can see you did.”

“I never—I most certainly didn't—that is, what do you mean, you can see I did?”

What an awful thought. If Delia could see through her so easily, Robyn likely could, as well. He might even now be boasting to his friends about how soundly he'd kissed her and how her knees had quivered under her skirts.

How dare he?

Delia sat up against the pillows. “I can tell because you're in a fuss about it. No woman fusses over a kiss she didn't enjoy.”

A fuss, indeed.
What nonsense. She never fussed about anything. Whether or not she'd enjoyed the kiss was hardly the point. It was irrelevant, in fact.

Lily frowned down at a bottle of scent in her hand.
Had
she enjoyed it?

She'd certainly felt it everywhere, not just her lips. Did that mean she'd
enjoyed
it? It didn't seem like the right word to describe how she felt about that kiss.

It had been more like being on the back of a runaway horse, soaring over hills and galloping through streams and flying over logs in one spectacular jump after another, heart pounding and hair flying, breathless and terrified. When the horse slowed at last to a walk, one didn't think to oneself,
What a
lovely
ride. I
enjoyed
it.

She'd never been run away with before, and she didn't intend to start now.

Lily dropped the crystal stopper back into the bottle of scent. Oh, what did it matter anyway? It was the first and last kiss she'd ever share with Robyn Sutherland. She hadn't
enjoyed
enjoying it, which was reason enough not to repeat the experience.

“He didn't
mean
to kiss me,” she said, as if this made all the difference.

“Robyn kissed you by accident?” Delia asked. “How would such a thing happen? Did his lips bump into yours somehow?”

Lily scowled. “I'm glad you find this so amusing, Delia. No, his lips didn't bump into mine. It was dark, and he thought he was kissing someone else.”

Delia's eyes went wide. “This
is
getting interesting. How did you end up in a dark room alone with Robyn, and who did he think he was kissing?”

Lily sighed. She'd come this far. She may as well just tell the whole story and be done with it. She needed to put the fiasco with Robyn out of her mind and rethink her plan, especially as she'd missed her chance to be introduced to Lord Atherton last night.

“It happened at Lord and Lady Barrow's musicale. I mistook Lord Barrow's study for the ladies' retiring room, and—”

“Why would you go off to the ladies' retiring room alone if you don't know the house? You know how easy it is to get lost in these grand London town houses. Why not take Charlotte or Ellie with you?”

“The music was about to start and I didn't like for them to miss it. But my sash was twisted, and—”

Delia laughed. “Oh, Lily. Not the ribbons again!”

Lily smoothed her hands over her skirts. “You know I can't abide twisted ribbons, but you've always said I'm too fastidious, and now I suppose I've gotten what I deserve.”

“Surely it's not all that bad. What happened then? Did you kiss him back?”

Lily hesitated. She
had
kissed him back, and worse, she'd known very well it was
him
she was kissing. At least he had an excuse. He'd thought he was kissing Lady Downes.

Oh, it was mortifying.

“Well, you see, I went into the wrong room, and what do you think? Robyn was in there, in the dark, alone, waiting for Lady Downes.”

Delia's brow wrinkled. “Lady Downes? I don't think I know her.”

“She has dark hair and wears quite a lot of red paint on her mouth and very low-cut gowns.” It wasn't the most charitable description, but, well, Lady Downes
did
wear paint and low-cut gowns.

Lily couldn't imagine what Robyn saw in her in the first place, unless it was the low-cut gowns. He'd seemed preoccupied with Lily's low-cut gown when they'd been locked
in the study together. She thought of the tip of his finger against her breast and smothered a shiver.

She never should have let Charlotte talk her into the revealing bodices.

Delia shrugged. “That could be any number of ladies.”

“Yes, well, it doesn't matter what she looks like. What matters is she's
married
, Delia, and Lord Downes was at the musicale as well, and not three rooms away from Lord Barrow's study at the time!”

“Ah.” Delia nodded, beginning to understand. “So Robyn had planned to, ah,
entertain
a married woman right under her husband's nose? My goodness. He is rather wicked, isn't he?”

“Yes!” Lily cried, relieved Delia had at last arrived at the obvious conclusion. “Charlotte says he's the wickedest gentleman in the wickedest city in England, and I'm afraid I must agree with her, for—Delia! What are you laughing at?”

“The wickedest gentleman in the wickedest city in England? That's a bit much, isn't it? Robyn's wild, yes, and I confess I hope Alec doesn't hear of this latest escapade. But young, fashionable gentlemen like Robyn must have their fun, and the
ton
turns a blind eye to it.”

Lily's mouth tightened to a thin, prim line. “I don't see why they should. It only encourages them, and—”

“This isn't Surrey, Lily. Everything is different in London; it's really another world entirely than what we're accustomed to.”

It
was
a different world, one where gentlemen had liaisons with married women, and ladies painted their lips, and the
ton
devoured scandal along with their morning chocolate. This world had a great many twists and turns and jagged edges, just like—

Lily froze as a memory tugged at her consciousness.

Dear God
. It was the puzzle maze all over again.

London society was as incomprehensible to her as the
puzzle maze she'd been lost in as a child. Here were the same twisted pathways and blank hedges that had terrified her then, except now instead of enormous topiaries and leering statues, it was Mrs. Tittleton who hid in the shrubs, and Lily had no more idea which way to turn now than she had then.

Five-year-old Lily had run through that maze in a blind panic, her gasps echoing in her ears as she stumbled down one gravel path after the next. At the time she'd thought being lost was the worst thing that could ever happen to her.

It wasn't. She knew that now.

She'd never found her way out of that maze. Her parents had to come in and rescue her. But this time she hadn't any parents to come search for her, and that . . .

That was the worst thing that could ever happen. To her, or to anyone.

“What does Robyn's liaison with Lady Downes have to do with his kissing you?” Delia asked. “There's more to this than you've told me.”

There was. Much more, and much worse. Lily hesitated. Perhaps she shouldn't tell Delia about Mrs. Tittleton, after all? She didn't want to send her sister into a swoon.

“Don't think to hide the worst of it from me, Lily.”

“Oh, very well.” Lily rose, fetched her reticule, and pulled the pernicious Mrs. Tittleton from its depths. She handed the sheet to Delia. “This is the worst of it.”

She half expected Delia to brush off Mrs. Tittleton as she had Robyn's liaison with Lady Downes, but by the time Delia finished reading the scandal sheet, her face had gone as tight as a fist. “Oh, Lily. This is dreadful.”

Lily wrung her hands. “It's not as bad as all that, is it? You've just told me London is more permissive than the country—”

“For the
gentlemen
, yes. For married ladies. For young unmarried girls, it's just as restrictive as Surrey. More so, even, for the
ton
is addicted to gossip, and while they care
little about what happens behind closed doors, they are particular indeed about appearances.”

For goodness' sake.
Lily cared about appearances, too, but it didn't do for one to become so preoccupied with her gown, she forgot to put on her drawers. Surely what was underneath counted, as well?

Delia crushed the paper as if she had Mrs. Tittleton's neck between her hands. “Whatever will we do?”

She looked so agitated, Lily grew alarmed. “Ellie had an idea.” Honesty compelled her to add, “But I'm not sure it will work.”

Delia patted a space on the bed. Lily settled down next to her and explained Ellie's plan to have Robyn act as her escort until the scandal blew over.