I Kissed a Rogue (Covent Garden Cubs) (8 page)

Brook ground his teeth together and glared at Lila. She lowered her gaze again.

“I require and charge you both—” the bishop began.

“May I have one moment with my—er, betrothed?” Lila said.

She had spoken to the bishop, but her gaze was on Brook. He raised a brow.

“You can speak to him after the ceremony,” the duke said from the pew.

“Just for one moment, Father,” she said.

“My Lord,” the duke said to the bishop. “Please continue.”

“I am sorry, Your Grace, but I cannot. Lady Lillian-Anne must come to this union of her own free will.” He glanced at Lila. “If you need a moment, my lady, you may use the sacristy.”

She nodded and gave Brook an imploring look. With a shrug directed at his mother, whose face was the picture of disapproval, he followed Lila to the side chamber. The room was full of books and vestments, all in order, and in the middle were a small altar and a sacrarium, where the bishop washed his hands.

Lila stood before the altar, like a sacrificial lamb. Brook stood just inside the door, keeping it open for propriety.

“Delaying the inevitable?” he asked.

“I had to make certain you knew this was not my doing,” she said, her voice breathless. “I never told my father to go to the king. I did not want to force you into marriage.”

Brook leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “I must admit, your previous refusal was quite definitive and robust. This sudden change of heart surprised me.”

“Oh, stop speaking so formally! I am trying to tell you I have no more choice in this than you.”

“The bishop will ask for your consent in a few moments. All you need say is
I won’t
.”

“And then my father will disown me, and Vile Valencia will make certain I am shipped off to Cheapside to live with my mother’s great-aunt, who is so poor she can ill afford to feed herself much less me.”

“Beezle will find you inside a week there.”

She closed her eyes, seeming to summon patience. He couldn’t blame her. He was being an arse. “You must be the one to say you won’t have me,” she said.

“Oh, no.” He pushed away from the jamb. “And have the king throw me in the Tower? Not bloody likely.”

“He won’t throw you in the Tower.” She folded her arms under the square neck of the gown, pushing her breasts up until they swelled at the bodice.

“I’m not taking that chance.”

“Then we have no choice but to marry.”

“I assumed that was the reason we were both in the church at half eight in the morning—you in your bridal silk and me in this stiff-necked cravat Hunt tied far too tightly.”

“But you don’t want to marry me!”

“I want to be thrown into the Tower even less.”

“Nice to know I rank above imprisonment.”

“Barely,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “Besides, the king mentioned annulment. I’m to keep you safe and capture the man who killed Fitzsimmons and abducted you, and the king will see the union annulled.”

“On what grounds?”

“How the devil do I know? On whatever grounds His Majesty fabricates.”

“But what if you don’t capture this Beezle, or whoever it was?”

“I will.”

“And what’s to happen to me after the marriage is annulled?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He glanced behind him and into the sanctuary. Lennox had risen and was looking pointedly in his direction. The king’s attendant was scribbling something on a sheet of vellum. “Let’s finish this.”

He turned to exit the sacristy, but her hand on his upper arm made him pause. He looked down at the gloved fingers, so white against his dark blue coat, and then at her pale face.

“Brook, I don’t—I just don’t want you to hate me for this.”

“It’s far too late for that.”

She didn’t look at him again during the ceremony. She spoke her vows, her voice quiet but steady. If he thought he saw tears sparkling on her black eyelashes a time or two, she didn’t allow them to fall. That was to her advantage. He’d never liked women who manipulated men with their tears and feminine wiles.

Finally, the deed was done, and the party retired to Lennox House for the wedding breakfast. At least everyone but Brook did. He met Hunt at his office on Bow Street and reviewed the reports on Fitzsimmons the Runners he knew had compiled.

“I don’t know if the man was in league with one of the Covent Garden gangs, but he had something on the side. These purchases he made in the last year or so require income far above his.”

“Perhaps he came into some money,” Hunt suggested.

“I’ll have Dorrington look into that and into his habits at the gaming table. I’ll find out who he had ties with in Parliament. Has anyone interviewed his widow?”

“I know Sawyer wanted to, but he was told it would be unseemly to bother her at this time of grief.”

“I don’t mind being unseemly.”

The door, which had been only half-closed, swung open. “I’m glad to hear it because you missed your own wedding breakfast,” Dorrington said, strolling into the office. “If that isn’t what you nobs call
unseemly
, I don’t know what is.” He slouched into one of the chairs across from Brook’s and propped his boots on the desk. Brook glared at the boots, but Dorrington didn’t remove them.

“I don’t have time for wedding breakfasts. I have a killer to catch and an annulment to request.”

“Your mother is furious,” Dorrington said with a smile.

“I’ll bring her flowers.”

“Your wife is humiliated.”

Good. She’d humiliated him. Let her see what it tasted like. Brook sat and crossed his arms. “Your point?”

“I do have to give the gentry mort credit. She held her head high.”

“Then all that training finally proved useful.”

“Dane and Marlowe sent their best wishes to the breakfast and said they would come to Town soon,” Dorrington said.

They would undoubtedly stay at Derring House, and he would have to make a point of speaking with Marlowe when she arrived. Like Gideon, now called Dorrington, across from him, she’d once been part of Beezle’s gang. She might have insights he’d overlooked.

“Marlowe must be breeding again,” Dorrington said.

Brook supposed it was possible. His nephew was almost a year old now. “Why do you say that?”

“When I saw her at Christmas, she ate half a kidney pie.”

“I’ve seen her eat more than that.”

“I haven’t. Not since she started having regular meals. She’s bellyful. Mark my words.”

Brook sat forward. “We can discuss my brother’s growing family another time. Today I need you to look into Fitzsimmons’s gambling habits. Make the rounds of the hells catering to gentlemen and ask about him. If you don’t find anything at those—”

“Try the rookeries. I know what to do, but hadn’t you better go claim your bride?”

“Why?”

“It’s almost six. Or did you intend to leave her alone on your wedding night?”

Brook glanced at the clock on his desk and cursed. The day had slipped through his fingers. He hadn’t thought what he would do with Lila on their wedding night. It wasn’t as though she’d welcome him into her bed. Not that it should matter. He was her husband, and she was his for the taking. Whether or not he bedded her made no difference for the annulment. The king would have to find some technicality on which to declare the marriage unlawful. Even if he didn’t take Lila to bed, everyone would assume he had.

And why should he deny himself? He ought to have some pleasure from this arrangement.

Except, of course, there was no pleasure in bedding a woman who didn’t want him.

Brook looked at Hunt, hoping his man had considered the domestic arrangements. “You can’t take her to Derring House, sir.”

“No.” And that was too bad because Derring House was large and full of servants and family. He could stay well away from her at Derring House. But he wouldn’t endanger his family and home by having her there. Beezle would have no qualms about slitting the throats of every man, woman, and child in residence if it accomplished his goal.

“I don’t suppose we can leave her at Lennox House. Her father doesn’t take the threat seriously enough,” Hunt added. “The duke hasn’t even hired additional footmen to stand guard.”

“He took it seriously enough to marry her to Brook,” Dorrington said.

“That’s because he’s lazy and has a termagant wife to contend with,” Brook said. “He’d rather foist his eldest on another man than exert himself to protect her.” Brook felt a twinge of sympathy for Lila, but he pushed it down. Her situation was little different than many unmarried women’s.

Except now she was married. To him.

“I suppose we have to take her to the flat,” Hunt said.

Brook groaned. Even as he wanted to argue, he knew Hunt was correct. Only a handful of people knew of his flat. Lila would be safe there for the time being.

But it meant taking her to the one place that was truly his. It was the place where he did not have to play the part of earl’s son or knight errant, where he could just be Brook.

And now the woman he hated most in the world would be living there as well.

* * *

Lila hadn’t known what to think when the handsome man who purported to be Brook’s valet had come to claim her at quarter past seven on the night of her wedding. After Brook had not made an appearance at the wedding breakfast, she’d assumed he was done with her. Perhaps he hoped she would be murdered. Then he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of securing an annulment.

She’d finally changed from her wedding dress, which she had loved, despite the fact that she had to marry Brook Derring in it. The short puff sleeves with a leaf on each sleeve, matching those in silver netting on the bodice and hem, were just lovely. She hated to take it off.

But she’d finally dressed for dinner in a white gown with flowers embroidered in red and gold and had sat down to have her hair styled. Lizzy had only just taken her hair out of its elaborate wedding style when Lila was summoned downstairs. She might have asked Lizzy to pin it hastily, but her head ached from the weight of the hair and the tight style in which she’d worn it all day, and she was glad for the respite.

Now she stood with her hair in a tail down her back, watching her father quiz her husband’s valet. The valet, who was clean shaven, tall, and possessed a strong jaw and lovely blue eyes, did not cower or grovel in the presence of the duke, like most of his fellows would have.

“How do I know you are employed by Sir Brook?” the duke demanded.

Hunt—that was the man’s name—cocked his head toward the front of the house. “He sent his carriage for her. Go ask the coachman and the outriders if you don’t believe me.”

The duke would do no such thing, but he seemed satisfied enough. So Brook had sent his coach for her. He’d sent for her. He did want her after all.

“Where are you taking her? Derring House?”

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but I can’t reveal that. It’s for the lady’s own safety.”

“So you are taking my daughter away and you will not tell me where. This is unacceptable!”

Valencia, who until this point had been sitting near the fire, a smug smile on her pointed face, now rose. “Lennox, surely Lila will be allowed to write to you. She can assure you all is well.”

Lila glanced at Hunt, who nodded. “I’ll bring a letter tomorrow if you want.”

“There. You see?”

Lila saw clearly enough. Vile Valencia had just rid herself of the daughter she’d never wanted. Lila doubted her stepmother cared whether she was off to a dungeon or the palace, as long as she was far, far away.

“Then I suppose I should say good-bye,” Lila said, filling the silence. She looked at her father. “I will write this evening when I arrive.”

He nodded. Lila wondered, briefly, if she should embrace him but decided against it. Such displays of affection were unseemly. She curtsied instead. “Good-bye, Father. Valencia.”

Colin was not at home, but she would write him separately. Ginny was in the nursery with her nanny.

“May I say good-bye to Ginny?” she asked.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Valencia said. “She will be in bed by now, and I don’t want her upset.”

Lila knew for a fact Ginny was a stubborn child who did not go to bed easily and often not until after eight or nine. But she didn’t argue with her stepmother. She supposed she might never see her little sister again. And if she did, Ginny would probably not remember or know her.

Her eyes stung as she left the room, following Hunt down the steps to the vestibule. She saw the carriage through the door Franklin held open. Two footmen were loading her valise inside.

Lila didn’t see Lizzy. “Is my lady’s maid already inside?” she asked.

Hunt gave her a pitying sort of look, which made her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Your father said you weren’t to bring any servants.”

She could translate that without the valet’s help. Her father had most likely said if she would have servants, Brook could damn well provide them.

“It’s better this way,” Hunt said, attempting to soften the blow. “The fewer people who know where you are the better. And these quarters aren’t large. You’d be cramped with a lady’s maid.”

“I see. Well, I had best be off then.” She lifted her skirts and took the hand of the footman. Inside the coach, she fussed with her skirts until John Coachman called to the horses and they were underway.

She only parted the curtains once to look back at her home.

No one had waited to see her off.

The journey to Brook’s quarters was faster than she had anticipated. Hunt had instructed her to keep the curtains closed, so she wasn’t sure where in London she had landed. It was dark by the time she was ushered out of the coach and up a flight of stairs into a dark, cold flat. For some reason, she had expected Brook to be waiting for her.

But except for Hunt, she was quite alone.

The valet lit a fire in the hearth of the common room and directed a footman to bring her valise to a room at the back, presumably her private chambers. Finally, he’d informed her there were victuals in the cupboard and fresh water in the pitchers, and she should take care to keep the shutters closed and make as little noise as possible.