Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend (2 page)

“Simple,” she muttered and knelt beside him. Her hem trailed in a muddy puddle, and when she’d pounced, she’d caught her sleeve on a sliver of wood poking out from the door. She now had two tears in her gown, and it was soiled with God knew what. Most vexing. She rifled her pursuer’s pockets and found only a few shillings, a cheap pocket watch, and a moldy bit of cheese.

It was disappointing, to say the least. If she’d had the time and resources, she could have tied him up, questioned him, forced him to answer her questions. That was her true talent—charming people. It was why the prince regent had given her the sobriquet Countess of Charm. Little did everyone know it was a talent she’d had to acquire. She’d grown up shy and reticent, not charming at all.

Lily studied the tall fence marking the edge of the alley. She would have rather walked out the way she’d come in, but she supposed she had better take precautions. If one man was following her, there might be another. And the next time, she might not spot the shadow.

Lily shook her head. “And the day began with such promise,” she muttered. She couldn’t possibly scale the wall with the parasol in hand, so she abandoned it in the doorway where she’d hidden. It had been a pretty parasol, but it was irreparably bent now, and she wouldn’t need it anymore, since she was disposing of this dress when she arrived home. In truth, she suspected one reason she wore this gown, even though she knew it didn’t particularly flatter her, was because she liked the accompanying parasol so much.

Lily took a step back, studied the wall, then tied up her skirts. She loved working for the Foreign Office, but she could have done without the physical aspects of her position—at least those that forced her to soil pretty gowns. Lily ran forward, gaining momentum, jumped, and reached the top of the wall. She scrambled over with a groan and lowered herself to the ground. She looked down at her gown. Streaks of dirt marred the expensive muslin. Now she was glad she was taking a circuitous route to Fitzhugh’s. She didn’t relish her disheveled clothing becoming the topic of the scandal rags.

She arrived at Fitzhugh’s town house and knocked on the servants’ entrance. One of Fitzhugh’s under maids opened the door, and her eyes widened when she recognized Lily. “Hello!” Lily waved as though her presence here was unremarkable. “Is Mr. Fitzhugh at home?”

The maid blinked at her, and Lily supposed the poor girl was beyond scandalized. Not only was a notorious courtesan knocking on the servants’ entrance of her employer’s home, she was requesting to see the master. A single woman, unchaperoned, calling on a man at his home. Such a thing was not done. Lily did not care. She was used to causing scandals. She’d been doing so since she was sixteen. What was one more at this point?

“I—I—” the maid mumbled.

“Never mind,” Lily said, pushing past her and into the kitchens. “I shall find him myself.”

“H-he’s with his betrothed,” the maid whispered.

“Fallon is here?” Lily brightened. “Splendid! Where are they?”

“Taking tea,” she squeaked.

“In the drawing room?” Lily was already on the stairs. “No matter. I’ll find them.” They were not in the drawing room, but she found them in a small parlor adjacent to Fitzhugh’s library. She was not surprised to find that “taking tea” involved Fallon sitting on Fitzhugh’s lap in a rather warm embrace. Lily cleared her throat.

“Out, Pressly,” Fitzhugh growled.

“It’s not Pressly,” Lily said. Fallon jumped up, and Fitzhugh scowled at her.

“What happened to you?” He rose and crossed to her, his eyebrows coming together in an expression of concern.

“I had a small incident,” Lily said, closing the door on the curious servants pretending to dust just outside.

“Are you well?” Fallon asked, taking Lily’s hands. “Your dress is ruined!”

“You should see my parasol.”

“Oh, no! That was your favorite parasol.”

“Yes, the parasol is a tragedy,” Fitzhugh drawled, “but might you enlighten us as to how it was damaged?”

“It is past damaged,” Lily said, allowing Fallon to lead her to a chair and pour her a cup of tea. “It is ruined. But I suppose it’s for the best. Madam Durand says this gown does not suit me, and the only reason I continue to wear it is because I adore that parasol.”

“Then perhaps it’s best the source of temptation has been removed,” Fallon remarked.

“That was my thought, and wait until you see the gown Madam Durand—”

“Miss Dawson!” Fitzhugh barked. Lily jumped, sloshing tea onto the saucer. “Could you and Fallon speak of fashion later and tell me what happened to leave you in this state?”

Fallon put her hands on her hips. “There’s no need to shout.”

Fitzhugh sighed. Loudly. Then looked pointedly at Lily.

She gave him a sweet smile. “I was leaving Madam Durand’s shop,” she began, “when I noticed I was being followed.”

“Are you certain?”

Lily raised a brow.

Fitzhugh held his hands up defensively. “My apologies. I did not mean to question your skills. Do go on.”

“As I was on my way here to collect payment, I did not want to be followed. I ducked into an alley, and the man followed.”

“Forgive me,” Fitzhugh said, taking the seat across from Lily. “What payment?”

“For my gown,” Lily said, looking exasperated. “The Foreign Office cannot expect me to take full responsibility for financing the seduction of the Duke of Ravenscroft.”

“Now I am confused,” Fallon said. “Why on earth would you seduce that lecher?”

“Because we suspect the duke is the man who wants to see the Diamonds in the Rough assassinated,” Fitzhugh told his intended. “He is in possession of some rather large rubies.”

“Rubies he was using to hire assassins to kill our best spies…” Fallon’s wide eyes narrowed. “Why was I not informed of this danger to you?”

“It didn’t concern you,” Fitzhugh answered. Lily winced. She glanced at Fallon, who was rising slowly from her seat, daggers shooting from her eyes. Lily jumped to her feet.

“Before you two progress any further in this discussion,” she said, “could I have the blunt? Madam Durand is sending the gown this afternoon, and I’d like to go home and burn
this
dress.”

“I’ll send for your coachman.” Fallon rose and left the room.

Fitzhugh steepled his hands. “How much?”

Lily told him.

“Is this a gown or a town house?”

“It’s an exquisite gown. Ravenscroft will not be able to keep his eyes off me.”

Fitzhugh raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t have to tell you to be careful. You know the latest intelligence?”

“Artemis? Do you believe we’ve found him?”

“I think much of the evidence points to the duke.”

“I’ll find out the truth.” Lily sank into her seat again, impossibly weary. She would need all of her skills tonight to convince those at the ball she was lively and charming. She would much rather go to bed and sleep.

How perfectly tedious.

“I don’t like this,” Fitzhugh said. “Artemis is aptly named. He hunted and killed several of our best during the war. I don’t like putting you in jeopardy.”

She felt her belly knot at his words. This mission was unlike most of the others she was assigned. If Ravenscroft was Artemis, she would be risking her life to uncover his secret. She could very well end up with her throat slit, her body thrown in an unmarked grave somewhere in Nottinghamshire.

But she could not show her fear to Fitzhugh. Any other agent sent in would be much more at risk than she. She did not want to be responsible for anyone’s death because she was a coward. Lily gave Fitzhugh a shrug and waved her hand dismissively. “Why would Ravenscroft suspect me of being anything other than a courtesan? In which case, the only thing in jeopardy is my virtue, and that is but a distant memory.”

Fitzhugh didn’t smile at her jest. “If he attempts to force himself on you—”

“I am perfectly capable of handling that sort of thing,” Lily said, forcing herself to sound confident. “You have nothing to worry about. Plan your wedding and watch your back. I will obtain the information you need.”

“My mother is planning the wedding, and Fallon’s brute of a butler has my back. You’ll have to forgive me if I have little to do but worry over my agents.”

“You should be in hiding.”

“I plan to seclude myself and my wife for weeks after the wedding.”

Lily rolled her eyes. The door opened, and Fallon stepped inside. “I sent a messenger, but it may be some time before the coach arrives. In the meantime, let me show you to a room. At the very least, you may splash water on your face.”

Fallon knew Lily well enough to realize when she was weary she craved peace and solitude.

“I’ll have your funds ready before you depart,” Fitzhugh said.

“Again, thank you.”

She followed Fallon to a small bedchamber. A maid was just finishing building a fire in the hearth, while another poured water from a jug into a basin. Both curtsied and retired. Lily washed her hands and face and pressed the cool cloth to her eyes. When she opened them, Fallon was watching her. “Are you looking forward to the wedding?” Lily asked.

Fallon shrugged. “I am looking forward to the marriage.”

“He is lucky to have you,” she said, running the cloth over her neck.

“He seems to think so.” The awe in her voice told Lily Fallon still wasn’t quite certain she deserved real love. “Lily, there’s something I wanted to speak to you about.”

Lily smiled. “Is it about the wedding night? You see, my dear, when a man and woman love each other…”

Fallon rolled her eyes. “It is not about the wedding night, and you know it. It’s something else. Someone, actually.”

Lily’s pulse kicked at the grave look on Fallon’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Darlington is back in Town.”

Lily tensed but pretended to be uninterested. “I saw him when he was last in Town. He seemed a bit surly. I won’t seek him out again.”

“But he will seek you out. He’s come to see you.”

Lily willed her heart to stop thundering in her chest.
Her?
Not possible. She was invisible to him. Lily could hear Fallon still speaking, but her voice sounded far away and muted under the thrum of blood pounding in Lily’s ears. Without waiting for her friend to finish, Lily interrupted, “Why would he want to see me?”

“According to Juliette, he ‘will not allow that harlot to soil the memory of his mother or the hallowed ground of Ravenscroft Castle.’”

Juliette
. Lily’s fists clenched. Of course. “Hallowed ground?”

Fallon shrugged. “It was something like that. I only told you because I thought you should be aware.”

Lily nodded, unable to speak.

“Lily,” Fallon said, placing her hand on Lily’s arm. “Darlington may be your biggest impediment.”

Later, while she sat and pretended to read as her lady’s maid styled her hair for the night, Lily thought about Fallon’s words. Lily had difficulty imagining the amiable, good-natured Earl of Darlington as any sort of impediment. He might not be overjoyed when his father became her protector, but he would laugh it off.

At least she thought he would. The last time she had seen him, in Hyde Park a few weeks ago, he had seemed severe and unapproachable. Her efforts to tease him into smiling hadn’t been successful. She attributed his foul mood to two recent events. Firstly, his mother had died quite suddenly in a tragic carriage accident. Darlington appeared to be the only member of the family mourning the late Duchess of Ravenscroft. The duke had been in Town for weeks playing the libertine. Even some of the more debauched members of Society had raised their brows at the duke’s blatant disregard for any sort of show of mourning his late wife and the mother of his three children.

Secondly, the Duchess of Dalliance was married. She was newly wed to the Duke of Pelham. It had not been a secret that Darlington had been in love with Juliette since the moment The Three Diamonds made their debut in Society. This was before they were The Three Diamonds. That sobriquet came later, when the courtesans had suitably dazzled. But Darlington had been there from the beginning.

Lily remembered, because the first time she’d seen him, she’d fallen in love with him.

And he’d fallen in love with Juliette.

She would have recovered from her infatuation with Darlington more quickly if Juliette had loved him back. Then Lily would not have been able to hold out hope he might eventually give up on the Duchess of Dalliance and notice her. But Juliette all but ignored the man. Lily supposed this was because her friend did not want to encourage his attentions, but the snubs only made Darlington more determined.

Lily could hardly blame the man for being slightly cross when he’d lost both his mother and the woman he fancied himself in love with within weeks of each other. But she did not think Darlington was the type of man to hold on to anger. That was why she liked him so much. He was lively and charming—the part she also played. And he was safe. He was not too dark or deep. If they were ever to fall into bed together, she would not have to share much of herself with him. And she preferred it that way.

Her maid helped her don the gown Madam Durand had sent, and Lily admired herself in the looking glass before dismissing the servant. When the door was closed, she went to her escritoire and unlocked a small center drawer. There, she withdrew a delicate pistol with a pretty silver handle inlaid with sapphires. It had been a gift from the Countess of Sinclair when Lily had said she intended to continue her work with the Foreign Office. She had never yet had to use it, though she certainly knew how. She rarely ever took it anywhere with her, and certainly never to a ball.

But this ball was not for pleasure. It was deadly serious. Someone had to stop the man trying to murder the Diamonds in the Rough. Someone had to discover to whom Lucifer had sold the Diamonds’ identities. If Ravenscroft was that man, Lily intended to find out.

And then she had to stay alive long enough to stop him.

***

The Earl of Darlington watched the men and women of the
ton
dance across the ballroom and made no attempt to stifle the scowl on his face. Had he once found amusements like this… amusing? He did not now. He found them tedious and grating. He would not be here tonight if not for his father.

Slowly and with dread, he turned in his father’s direction. The man was surrounded by painted women covered in jewels and little else. The old duke swatted one woman on the bottom. She threw back her black hair, and her red mouth, ornamented with a black spangled beauty mark, broke into a wide grin. Andrew gritted his teeth. His mother might not have been a beauty or the kind of woman men sought out at soirees, but she had been a good duchess and a good mother. She’d been calm and quiet and serene, and she’d loved her children. She’d certainly looked past her son’s flaws often enough.

The late Duchess of Ravenscroft deserved some measure of respect.

Andrew had already spoken with his father and been ceremoniously rebuffed. Actually, he’d been told something to the effect of: you won’t be the only one having fun anymore. Andrew had squared his shoulders and bit back his retort. If his father believed he still had wild oats to sow, Andrew was not the man to censure him. After all, he’d done his share of carousing and been quite the gallant at one time.

But that was over now. The idea that he might share a bed with a woman who had also shared his father’s attentions disgusted him. He wanted no part of it.

A commotion erupted in the vestibule, near the door where Andrew had stationed himself. The butler, who had been announcing the guests, stepped away and returned a moment later with a woman who could only be described as delicious.

Andrew’s gaze traveled from her tiny waist to her rounded breasts to the pale, porcelain skin of her cheek. Ruby earrings dangled from small shell-shaped ears, reflecting light on the curved slope of a delicate neck. Green eyes flashed at him, and a sensual mouth smiled. He felt his blood warm and begin to pump faster as she gave him a saucy wink.

“The Countess of Charm!” the butler announced, and the drone of voices rose again.

Andrew shook his head. Lily?
That
was Lily? He watched her glide through the ballroom, seemingly unaware of the attention she created. No wonder there had been a dispute when she’d arrived. Not only was she a notorious courtesan, but she had reportedly caught the attention of—who else?—the Duke of Ravenscroft. Otherwise known as Andrew’s father.

And that was why Andrew was here. He’d wanted no part of London and had been about to return home when he’d heard the rumors—the Duke of Ravenscroft intended to seduce the Countess of Charm and then make her his wife. For the woman who, it was rumored, had ruined the Prince of Wales for other women, no enticement but that of the title of
duchess
might tempt her into the old duke’s bed. And here she was, probably hoping to lay her claim to that title.

Andrew would make certain she did not.

He’d intended to waylay her before she could rendezvous with his father, but she had obviously bewitched him in some form or fashion. Why hadn’t he recognized her? He’d known her for years. She was making her way toward the duke, and Andrew started after her, catching up with her easily as she was stopped by every eligible gentleman—and a few that weren’t—in the room. He came up behind her, took her elbow. “Lily, I need to speak with you.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her gaze traveling down to her imprisoned elbow and then back to his face. She’d never given him such a cold reception before, and without thinking, he released her. She turned back to her companion and laughed at some inane comment the fop made. Andrew waited. He knew how to play this game. Courtesans liked to feel as though they were important enough to merit a man’s time and attention. He would play, for the moment, and wait while she finished her conversation.

But when she was through, instead of turning to him, she glided away. Devil take her, because that was where she was going when he was through with her. Andrew went after her, and this time he grasped her upper arm and turned her to face him. “I want to speak with you.”

She flicked a distasteful glance at his hand on her flesh. “Unhand me.”

Who was this woman? Lily had never spoken to him like that. He almost complied. “After we’ve spoken.”

“It should be obvious that I have nothing to say to you.” She attempted to tug her arm from his grasp, but he held on. Even through his gloves, he could feel how warm her skin was, how soft.

“But I have something to say to you. Either come with me now or I say it in front of two hundred of our closest friends.”

She glared at him, her green eyes hard as emeralds. He’d always thought her hair her best feature, but now he saw she could use her eyes to her advantage as well. “Make it quick,” she said and muttered something about
impediments
.

Andrew clenched his jaw and led her to the spot he’d decided on before she’d arrived. It was a small parlor adjacent to the ballroom. He opened the door and interrupted a man and woman in an embrace. “Out,” he said when they dashed apart and stared at him with flaming faces.

Without protest, the couple fled.

“Ever the romantic,” Lily said, gliding into the room and turning to face him. The rubies on her gown glinted in the light from the brace of candles set on a table.

“Interesting criticism, coming from a courtesan,” he shot back. He closed the door behind him, though being seen with him was no danger to her reputation. He couldn’t ruin her. Her reputation was ruined beyond repair.

Lily’s brow arched. “You never seemed to mind associating with the Fashionable Impures before. Perhaps you are bitter because your favorite Cyprian has chosen another.”

Andrew balled his hands. He did not want to think of Juliette, married to his so-called friend, the Duke of Pelham. Juliette was the least of his worries at the moment. He had his father and the harlot before him to consider. “I don’t remember you ever being deliberately cruel,” Andrew said, knowing his words were crueler than hers.

Her face fell into an expression of regret. “You are correct. I apologize. That was unkind of me. And now would you give me the courtesy of saying what this is about so I might return to the ball?”

“Return to my father.”

She nodded. “I have promised Ravenscroft a dance.”

Andrew shuddered at the image of his portly father dancing, his arm about Lily’s waist. “You will find someone else to dance with.”

She merely looked at him. “Will I?”

“As a favor to me, you will turn your attentions elsewhere.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “I don’t owe you any favors.”

Anger swept through him, and he closed in on her until he towered over her and glared down into her sparkling green eyes. “What do you want? Blunt?” He pulled a handful of quid from his coat and tossed it at her. “There. Meet me at Threadneedle Street in the morning. I shall have my banker draw up a draft for more funds.”

Her eyes hardened and went dull. “I don’t want your money, Darlington.”

She pushed past him, stepping on the notes. He grabbed her elbow. “Five hundred pounds.”

“Release me.” She did not look at him.

“One thousand, and that is my final offer.”

“You insult me, my lord. Release me now.”

“So it’s the title you want, then. You won’t have it. I’ll never consent to a marriage, and my father is no fool like Pelham. He won’t marry a slut.”

The slap rang out in the empty room, and his cheek stung. He would have a hand print, no doubt.

“Unhand me, or I shall scream.”

Andrew blinked at her. He had not thought she would be so difficult to persuade. Of The Three Diamonds, Lily had always been the sweetest, the… most charming. Even her sobriquet, the Countess of Charm, told of her amiable personality. Why was she being so deliberately difficult now?

“I have tried to reason with you,” he began.

With a petulant look, she opened her mouth and screamed. “Help! He—”

He kissed her. Andrew couldn’t think what else to do to make her stop causing that infernal racket. The last thing he needed was to be booted out of a ball, or for his father to realize he was attempting to manipulate the old duke’s liaisons. And so he kissed her, not thinking of anything but shutting her up. But when his lips touched hers, all of that changed. He hadn’t expected her lips to feel so soft, her mouth to be so ripe, taste so sweet. He hadn’t expected his arms to wrap around her and pull her close, crushing her breasts against his chest.

And he hadn’t expected to like the feel of her body molded against his. Hadn’t expected the urge to explore her curves and to find the places that made her sigh and moan.

He tried to control himself, remind himself of who she was. She was not beautiful, golden Juliette. Lily’s eyes were not blue, her hair not pale blond, her form not tall and regal. That was the sort of woman Darlington preferred. He could see the appeal of a woman like Fallon. She was dark and voluptuous. What man wouldn’t want her in his bed for a night or two? But Lily? She was pretty, if one liked that sort of thing. He didn’t care for her red hair, though it was striking. He didn’t care for the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. He didn’t care for all the smiling she did. She reminded him of his younger sister, who had always followed him around and attempted to attract his attention.

And if he disliked her so much, why was he still kissing her?

He broke the kiss and caught her hand just inches from his face. “I deserve to be slapped for that,” he said, “but you’ve already doled out my punishment.”

“Let me go, or I will be forced to employ stronger methods of resistance.” Her voice was breathy and low. Andrew considered that she might have been more affected by the kiss than she allowed him to see. He released her, not because he worried overmuch about her “stronger methods of resistance.” He was certain she had them. One did not survive as a courtesan without learning how to fend men off. But he did not think her methods would prove all that successful if he truly intended to take her against her will. Fortunately for her, he didn’t want her.

Much.

“Think about what I said,” he said, releasing her. “Stay away from my father, or I will make your life very, very inconvenient.”

“No!” She inhaled a sharp breath and put a hand over her heart in mock distress. “Not
inconvenient
.”

He scowled at her, and she moved closer to him, poking his chest with a gloved finger. “Think about this, Lord Darlington. If you continue to threaten and harass me,
I
will make
your
life
inconvenient
. You know I can.” She opened the parlor door, and the orchestra’s strings swelled into the room. She shut the door with a bang behind her and was gone.