Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend (14 page)

“That will be done, but it will not solve the problem. We must locate this Lucifer.” Darlington moved across the room, advancing on her. “He has been inside my home and dared to do this.” He gestured to the ransacked library. “This is not to be tolerated.”

“Nevertheless, I cannot assist you.”

“You can, and you will.”

“Or else?” She already knew the power he held, the secrets he knew.

He bent close and whispered in her ear. “Do not make me threaten you, Lily. It’s not a gentlemanly thing to do.”

She turned to face him so her nose brushed his. “You won’t do it. If you were going to reveal my secrets, you would have done so already. I warn you not to persist in making threats you can’t keep.”

Instead of fuming, he touched her cheek. “Are you angry? I rather like you when you’re angry.” His finger trailed down her skin, and he bent close. Lily knew she should pull away, avoid the kiss, but she could not quite make herself do so.

“What the devil is going on in there?” a familiar voice boomed. Lily jumped away from Darlington and out of the path of the door just in time. It swung open and barely missed her. The Duke of Ravenscroft stood in the frame, scowling at his wreck of a library. His hair stood up, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked all of his almost-sixty years tonight. “What happened?” he said, turning about, much as Lily had upon entering. His gaze fastened on her. “What are
you
doing here?”

She glanced at Darlington before answering. “I thought I heard a commotion, and when I came down, I saw the light on.”

The duke looked from her to his son, his expression skeptical.

“There have been several thefts and incidents lately, Your Grace,” Darlington said. “We think this might be related.”

“Incidents?” The duke’s eyebrows rose. “Why was I not notified?”

“Mr. Helms did not want to trouble you or your guests,” Darlington said smoothly, though it was clear to Lily the steward had gone to the man he knew was really running the estate.

“Well, I am troubled now,” Ravenscroft lamented, bending to sift through papers and allowing them to fall like sand through his hands. “Whoever did this will not go unpunished. Helms!”

The steward, who had been standing just outside the library, hurried inside. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Tomorrow you will find the man who did this.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Get out.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” He left quickly, and with a muttered pardon, Darlington followed. Lily tried to escape as well, but the duke caught her arm. His grip hurt.

“What do you know that you are not telling me?” the duke demanded. His breath was hot and foul against her cheek.

“I do not know what you mean, Your Grace.”

“I may be old, but I am no fool,” Ravenscroft said, digging his fingers into her tender flesh. “There have been too many coincidences involving you. You are up to something.”

“Your Grace,” she said calmly. “You are frightening me.”

“I wish that were true. Then I might actually believe your stories.” He released her. “But I don’t frighten you, Lily. I should, you know. You should be afraid, because if you are involved in this, in any way, I will kill you.” His dark eyes were fierce and ominous. This was no idle threat. He stalked out, and Lily clutched her hands into fists.

If she had not been frightened before, she was now, though she would fight it.
This
was the Duke of Ravenscroft she had been searching for—the man willing to kill men for his own purposes. A traitor and enemy of the Crown.

But why? Why did he want the Diamonds in the Rough dead, and where were the rubies he was promising the assassins? Was he working for another country’s government? A country that wanted England’s top spies dead? Was the duke the notorious Artemis? In which case, she was as good as dead. She closed her eyes, resolved to fight her fear, conquer it, because she knew she was close to the third act now. The trick was to stay alive for the finale. When her legs were once again steady beneath her, she returned to her room and lay awake with her hand on the knife beneath her pillow.

***

Darlington sent a message through Lily’s maid for her to meet him in the stables. He intended to search every inch of the estate for this Lucifer’s hiding hole, and he wanted Lily with him. Perhaps she would see something he did not. Perhaps he would only keep her from causing some other mischief at the house. Or perhaps he just wanted to keep her close. Nevertheless, he was prepared to drag her from her bed when she stepped into the stable, her eyes blinking in the sudden darkness.

“I thought I would have to physically remove you from your bed,” he said, moving into the light so she would see him easily.

“I’m certain you would have enjoyed that.”

“I would far rather drag you into bed.” Her eyes widened in surprise at the admission. Andrew gestured to the stalls. “Do you have a choice of mount?”

“No. I am not familiar enough with your horses. Where are we riding?”

“I thought you might direct me. I beg your leave for a moment.” He moved farther into the stables and returned with two grooms, whom he directed to saddle two riding horses, his favorite gelding and a fast but gentle mare for Lily. The two of them waited outside while the horses were prepared. The day was cloudy and gray, a change from the sunny, clear days of late. Rain showers threatened, but he noted she had brought a shawl. That would protect her from a light rain, at least.

She glanced at him, and he looked away quickly. Not for the first time, he had been caught admiring her. It was difficult not to admire her. She was a beautiful woman with her auburn hair piled on top of her head in a mass of curls and coils. Her riding habit was snug, the dark emerald color making her look regal. If she had chosen another path in life, she might have become a lady. She certainly behaved as such. She might have made some duke a powerful duchess.

The horses were finally ready, and he and Lily set off by tacit agreement toward the woods at the rear of the house. When they were out of the grooms’ earshot, Andrew slowed his horse and fell into step with Lily’s. “I think the woods the most likely hiding spot.”

She nodded her agreement.

“He could be hiding in the village,” Andrew added a moment later.

“I think such a man would have been noted and mentioned. He has a striking appearance, quite handsome from what I understand.”

“You have not seen him?”

“From a distance. He does not have the sort of looks I admire.”

“And what sort is that, Lily?”

She cut her gaze to him. “You will not receive any compliments from me, my lord.”

“You wound me.”

“Hardly.” She spurred her mount forward, and he allowed her to lead briefly then charged ahead. When they reached the outskirts of the woods, they slowed, and Lily motioned to him to approach. “I suggest we ride into the woods and tie the horses to a tree when the foliage becomes thicker.”

Andrew frowned. “What will stop him from stealing our horses?”

“He has a mount. He no longer needs one. If we are lucky, he will never see our horses. But if we ride them and come upon him, he will hear us long before we ever spot him.”

As a lad, Andrew had done his share of tracking animals for sport. He knew what she suggested made sense and only wished he had thought of it himself. With a nod, he motioned her to follow him into the woods. The path was not wide enough for two horses, and he led until they reached a small stream where the brush seemed to thicken. “We leave the animals here,” he said, pointing to the stream. “If we ford here, it might serve to obscure our trail.”

Lily blinked at him. He could see what she was thinking. She was not eager to cross the water, but she did not argue, only tied her mare to a tree then removed her boots and stockings.

Andrew tried not to watch her, but he might have caught a flash of ankle or calf as he removed his own riding boots. When she was ready—her footwear cupped in the skirts of her riding habit—he started across. The water was colder than he’d anticipated, and he stifled a small yelp. She made no sound whatsoever, crossing behind him with grace and speed. She faltered on the other side of the stream, where a steep incline forced them both to climb up loose dirt, but he grasped her elbow and pulled her to the top.

Once at the crest of the bank, he did not release her right away. He held her arm for a moment longer than necessary, looking into eyes that matched the vivid green of the forest around them. She stepped away, averting her gaze and moving to a log where she sat to don her stockings and boots. This time Andrew did not look at her. He was on slippery ground in more ways than one, he knew. This interest in her was more than the simple desire to bed her. There was that, but he had wanted women before that he could not have. He had wanted one in particular.

But those women had never consumed his thoughts as Lily seemed to. Even now, when he knew he would be rebuffed, he was drawn to her. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, hold her. In most cases, a woman’s disinterest was enough to cool his ardor. He did not know why he could not seem to allow Lily to go her own way.

When she was ready, he gestured to the right and then to the left, allowing her to choose their path. She studied both then gestured to the left. He led the way, and they moved without speaking through the woods. After several hours, they paused by another branch of the stream where they had left the horses. Andrew cupped his hands to drink the cool water then produced a handkerchief with bread and cheese from the satchel he carried over his shoulder.

Lily took a share with a nod of thanks then looked away as she ate it, her eyes scanning the woods around them. Andrew supposed he should be thankful she didn’t insist on chattering until he went mad, as some women did, but he did wish she would say
something
. Finally, he could stand it no longer. “How are you faring? Should we return?”

She raised a brow at him. “I hardly think now is the time to worry about my welfare.”

She was correct, of course. If he wanted to concern himself with her well-being, he would not have demanded she accompany him. “Perhaps I regret my decision to invite you.”

She smiled at his use of
invite
, as he had known she would. He understood her so well, even when she did not speak her feelings. “I do not regret my decision to accept your invitation.” Her mouth curled in a rueful smile. “I am happy for the time out-of-doors, even if the weather is less than ideal.”

A light rain had been falling for the past hour, but they were somewhat shielded under the canopy of trees. Still, Andrew could see the drops of rain disturbing the calm stream, and he looked up to gauge the condition of the skies. Pewter-gray clouds promised the dreary weather would continue.

When he looked back at Lily, she was staring at the ground beside the rotten tree stump where she perched. He thought he might move away, give her some time to herself and her own thoughts, but then she rose and moved to study a nearby bush. She bent, studied the ground again, and turned to him. “Have you trespassed on this ground?”

“No.” He moved closer, feeling his heart begin to pound. “Have you found something?”

She gestured to the soft earth. “A footprint. A man’s boot, I think.”

Andrew studied the print and another she pointed out as well. He placed his own foot beside it, but his boot was slightly larger. “It might not be his,” she murmured.

“It’s the first sign of anyone we’ve seen all morning. You stay here, and I’ll investigate.” He started into the brush, following the logical path the man might have taken, even as fallen leaves obscured other prints. He should have realized she would never obey orders, but he was still surprised when he paused and she came up beside him. He frowned at her, but she ignored him and gestured ahead.

He saw the flash of color at the same moment she motioned. Moving silently now, he moved a leafy branch aside and looked into a small, man-made clearing where a red handkerchief fluttered against a tree.

One thing Lily had learned when working for the Foreign Office was to trust her instincts. She had excellent instincts. She looked into the clearing and knew this was Lucifer’s camp. He was hiding here, biding his time, waiting to strike. He’d searched the duke’s library for the documents he wanted and had not found them. But he could not expect to be able to search the estate again with impunity. He had left too much evidence of his search to hope to continue acting with stealth.

And that was what concerned her. If he was no longer worried about being detected, what would the man do next? He had lost his gambling hell. If he regained the documents detailing information about the Diamonds in the Rough, he could sell that information to any number of foreign governments. He could live quite richly on the Continent at the expense of the lives of England’s heroes.

Once again she reminded herself Lucifer was not her concern. He was already a wanted man for his evil deeds. The key was to prove Ravenscroft guilty of buying the names of the Diamonds and hiring men to have them killed. In that way, she was no different from Lucifer. They were searching for the same thing. The fact that Lucifer was here should damn the duke, but without a mountain of evidence, one did not accuse a powerful peer of being a traitor. At this point it was a matter of whether she or Lucifer found the evidence first. And that rivalry gave her reason to interest herself in the camp.

“We should search it,” she said, moving through the opening Darlington had cleared in the trees. It was raining harder now, and as she stepped into the clearing, water plastered her hair to her forehead and ran in rivulets down her face.

“We should return to the estate and contact the proper authorities.” Darlington stood rooted in place. “This is Ravenscroft land, and Lucifer, or whoever is camping here, is trespassing.”

“It’s Lucifer,” she said. “I can feel it.”

“All the more reason to return immediately.”

She glanced at him. “Are you frightened?”

“No.” His steady gaze told her he spoke the truth, and if she was not a spy for the Crown, she too would have gone to the local constables. But she needed information.

“I want to see if there are any clues to what he plans next.”

“It won’t matter,” Darlington argued. “He will be sent to gaol.”

She turned over a log with the toe of her boot. The ground beneath it was still fresh, indicating it had been recently moved and situated beside the fire pit. The rain had long since extinguished the fire and cooled the tinder, so she could not ascertain how recently someone had been here. “You have a great deal of faith in the Nottinghamshire patrols. The Bow Street Runners have been searching for Lucifer for months, and he’s eluded even their very best.”

A large swath of canvas had been stretched over a low-hanging branch to form a tent of sorts. A greatcoat and a saddle blanket, most likely from Ravenscroft’s own stable, had been added to supplement the structure. Lily moved the material aside and peered inside. As she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, she felt Darlington move beside her. “That wine is from the kitchens,” he said, gesturing to a jug. He had good eyes. Her own were just now making out the forms and shapes.

“And I am willing to wager that flour sack has foodstuffs inside.” She glanced at Darlington. “This is your thief.”

“Yes, but where is he?”

“If the horse were here, we could assume he was nearby. As it stands, he could be anywhere.”

“I don’t like it. If this man is who you say, he is dangerous. I want you back at the house, where you will be safe.”

She almost laughed. Safe? From whom? From Lucifer? He was probably stalking about the estate now. From Ravenscroft? He’d already threatened to kill her. From Darlington? One of these times he kissed her, she would not have the strength to stop him from doing more. She was as safe in this camp as she would have been anywhere else, which was to say, not safe in the least.

“I do not need a protector,” she told Darlington, moving into the tent. “You brought me here, and now I want to look in this sack. Perhaps it contains more than food.” She lifted the sack and prepared to dump the contents on the ground.

“I didn’t bring you here for this,” Darlington hissed. “If he returns now and we have to leave quickly, he will know we’ve been here.”

He was correct. She was cold and wet and losing focus. She pawed through the pouch, pushing aside a hunk of cheese and a crust of bread, pulling a leather pouch out and opening it. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d be safe at the estate without me.”

Despite her eagerness to peer at the contents of the pouch, she couldn’t stop from staring at Darlington. “Who would endanger me?”

“Lucifer. My father—”

“Your father?” she said sharply. Perhaps Darlington knew something after all.

“Might we discuss this at a more opportune time?”

“Yes. I’ll be only a moment.” There was something inside this pouch. Something Lucifer wanted to protect from the elements. She would look inside and then she would make Darlington tell her what he knew about his father. She could not allow his statement to pass without explanation. If he knew something that might implicate the duke, she would find it out.

She untied the pouch and lifted the flap. Inside, neatly stacked, was several hundred pounds. She rifled through the money, ignoring it, until she found a letter of transit. No, make that three letters of transit. The name on each document differed. She supposed one of these was his true name, but she did not know which. Finally, she found a crude drawing of what appeared to be Ravenscroft Castle. Lucifer was making a blueprint of the estate. It was unfinished, but a quick perusal told her he had been inside more than she had supposed.

“I hear—”

“It’s a horse,” she said. She’d heard it too. “We had better go now.” She tucked the pouch into her blouse.

“What the devil are you doing?”

“He was foolish enough to leave it here,” she whispered, pushing him out of the lean-to. “I’m not leaving him with money and a means of escape.”

“Are you mad?”

“Possibly. He’s close now. Hurry!” She led him to a thick grouping of trees as the hoofbeats closed in. He was walking the horse, probably leading it by the halter. There were too many low-hanging branches here to allow a man to ride. She pulled Darlington behind one of the thicker tree trunks and ducked into a crouch. Once Lucifer was busy starting the fire or tending the horse, they could sneak away.

She heard leaves moving and the sound of the horse’s breathing. Around them, the rain continued to fall, making a soft and steady
whoosh
sound as it splashed against the leaves. The wind blew the higher branches and chilled her, and she huddled close to Darlington as she tried to hear where Lucifer might be.

She remembered how she had always wanted to be invisible when she was a child. Her father had once told her his job was to be invisible. She understood what he meant now. He would always be remembered as a hero. He had been one of the men to thwart the attempted invasion of England by
La
Légion Noire
at Carregwastad Head near Fishguard. Cecil Dawson had indeed been a resourceful man and an asset to the Crown. She could only hope not to dishonor his reputation. And right now, her success depended on her invisibility.

But she would not rely on it, and so she withdrew a slim blade from her boot. Darlington gaped at her, but she did not look away. It was better he knew she was serious about her work, better he knew she understood danger and could counter it. Perhaps it would soften the blow when she had his father arrested. To lose two parents in one year would be hard for any man. To lose a father because the man was a traitor to his country would be devastating.

She heard a man swear, and the striking of a rock, and she nodded to Darlington. Thankfully Lucifer’s first task was to start a fire. That was not an easy feat in this sort of weather, and she heard his frustration. When he gave it up, he would return to his tent and find his leather pouch missing. She did not want to be near when that happened. She replaced the dagger, and with Darlington, trekked back the way they had come, through increasingly heavier rain. Lily was soaked to the bone and knew she would be thankful for a warm fire and dry clothes.

They forded the first stream with ease. The water had risen since they’d crossed, but it was a narrow, burbling thing. When they reached the next stream, opposite where the horses were still tethered, she knew immediately they had a problem. She did not care about wading in up to her waist. She was soaked through anyway, and now the rain was pouring down in sheets, but she feared if she did wade in, she would be carried away. The stream’s current was rapid, sweeping branches and large logs and even a small creature, hanging onto a fallen tree limb, downstream.

“We can’t cross here,” Darlington said, raising his voice so it might be heard above the sound of the storm. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Agreed. What should we do?”

“Find shelter.”

“Most of our supplies are with the horses.” She pointed across the impassable water.

“We’ll find something.” He motioned for her to follow him, and she tried, but her skirts were heavy with water and clung to her legs. Finally, Darlington took her arm and all but carried her away from the open space beside the stream. The rain was not as heavy under the canopy of the trees, but she was so wet, it made little difference. She shivered with cold and tried not to think about warm fires and hot tea.

And scones. She would give anything for a scone at the moment. She was famished.

She knew she should be helping Darlington, but she was weary and ready to collapse. He had dragged her into this. Perhaps it was only justice that he should have to find the way out.

“Here!” Darlington yelled, pointing to two large trees that had fallen into each other at some point years before. Their trunks formed an inverted V, which Lily could see would provide some protection from the elements. She would have preferred her bedchamber, a hot brick at her feet, and steaming chocolate in her hands, but she would take this for the present. Besides, agents for the Crown did not whine and complain.

And sometimes she was quite weary of being an agent for the Crown.

She allowed Darlington to drag her under the inadequate shelter, pulled her shawl over her head, and crouched down. She expected him to do the same, but he scurried about, appearing to gather fallen branches and handfuls of leaves. It did not take long for her to ascertain what he was doing. He spread some of the leaves at her feet, making a sort of soft place for her to rest, and arranged the branches over her head to fortify the shelter. Within a quarter of an hour, the structure was really quite tolerable. She made room for him when he finally joined her, and leaned back against one of the tree trunks, closing her eyes.

“You’re shivering, and your lips are blue,” he said.

“I’ve been told I look good in blue.” She would not begin complaining and feeling sorry for herself now. If she started, she would not be able to stop. She was also perilously close to tears, and crying was absolutely out of the question.

“You must be the strongest woman I know,” he said, awe in his voice. She opened her eyes. “You have not uttered one word of complaint or protest.”

“I assure you, I have cursed you and the heavens in my thoughts without ceasing.”

“As well you should. I was wrong to drag you with me.”

She laughed. “You are quick to admit when you are wrong, my lord. I do admire that trait. I only wish you would come to these conclusions
before
you make the mistakes.” She closed her eyes again and felt them burn with exhaustion.

“As do I. But I wouldn’t have found Lucifer alone.”

She suspected he would have, and probably much more quickly. After what she’d seen, she was reasonably certain the man causing trouble at Ravenscroft Castle was indeed Lucifer. And perhaps she had stalled his escape by taking his papers and his blunt. Perhaps the travel papers would provide the Bow Street Runners with evidence or a clue to assist them in his capture, should he elude the authorities in Nottinghamshire.

“I’ve asked this before, but I hope I have earned your trust since then. What is it Lucifer seeks?”

She opened her eyes. Looking at him, his hair shaggy and disordered from shaking off the excess water and running his hands through it, his eyes as weary as hers, and his skin pale with cold, she knew she could trust him. And she also knew it was time to tell him the truth.

“I am here on behalf of the Crown.”

He nodded. “I had thought as much, but I didn’t realize women worked in that service.”

“That is why we are so effective. There are very few of us, and I was chosen because my father was a spy. I inherited many of his skills.”

Darlington frowned. “So you’re a spy? Like Fitzhugh?”

“I’ve never been abroad, but from time to time the Foreign Office asks me to collect information on a person of interest.”

“That’s rather brilliant of them.” The rain finally slowed to a steady drizzle, and they were able to speak without shouting. “You do meet everyone and go everywhere. No one would suspect you had any motive other than pleasure if you flirt with a foreign ambassador or a French émigré.” That was accurate, but Darlington was skirting her true mission here. “And that is why you have continued to masquerade as an Impure. I wondered why you would keep up the pretense, especially after your friends retired.”

She nodded. “My lord, I wonder—”

“Andrew. With all we have been through, it’s time you called me Andrew. I already call you Lily.”

She had called him
Andrew
many times in private, silently in her mind, but now she did not know if speaking his name aloud, if agreeing to such familiarity was a good idea. Her emotions for him were already precariously close to the surface. More steps toward intimacy were to be avoided. “You may not want me to be so familiar when you understand my true reason for being here.”

“Go on.” He did not look concerned, but he had not fit all of the pieces together yet.