Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend (3 page)

To his father, he supposed.

Andrew ran a hand through his hair. That had not gone as expected. Normally, he would have gone to ask Pelham or Fitzhugh’s advice, but both were involved with the closest friends of his new mortal enemy. He could not rely on them. He had other friends. But those friends were not what one might call sensible, and he could certainly not rely on them to give him any advice over and above which bawdy house offered the best girls or which gaming hell had the best odds.

He opened the parlor door, stepped into the ballroom, and his gaze sought his father. There was Lily, standing at his side, making his father laugh with something she said. She looked over at him, said something more, and the circle of men and women around them laughed heartily.

Andrew’s face flamed. How dare she presume to make him the subject of some jest? He would make her pay for this. He stomped out of the ballroom and called for his carriage.

He thought of going to his club, but he knew his father and the Countess of Charm would be all the talk there. Instead, he directed his coachman to take him to a seedy part of Town. A place where he could wallow, undisturbed. He had his coachman stop on the outskirts of Seven Dials and ordered him home again. Then, walking stick at the ready, Andrew made his way into the bowels of the decrepit section of London until he reached The Horse and Crown.

It was a favorite haunt when he had been younger and wanted to prowl the rookeries. Now he came to drink. He had been drinking quite a lot since his mother’s death and Juliette’s marriage. He found gin dulled the pain.

He made his way to a back table and nodded to the gentleman seated there. The man nodded back. Flynn was not dressed in evening clothes, but he still looked the nobleman—the debauched nobleman. His coat was soiled, his hair had come loose from its queue, and his cravat spilled down his linen shirt. He had a drink before him and several empty cups on the table in front of him.

“Darlington,” he said. He never slurred his words, though Andrew knew he must be drunk at times. He’d sat with the man and drank half what Flynn consumed and could barely walk home. “You look rather pretty tonight.”

Andrew sat, and a buxom barmaid brought him a gin. She kissed his cheek and attempted to sit on his lap, but he picked her up and shooed her away. He could still taste Lily on his lips, and he didn’t want the barmaid tarnishing the memory.

Which was a completely irrational thought. Which was why he needed the gin.

“Ball tonight,” Andrew said and took a swallow of gin.

“Ah, yes. Did you stop the nefarious woman from implementing her plan and luring your poor, innocent father into a marriage based on lust and money alone?”

“How did you know all that?”

Flynn indicated the glass of gin. “You talk when you drink.”

“You make it sound ridiculous,” Andrew said.

Flynn shrugged. “To each his own. My life has its own foibles.”

Flynn never talked when he drank. Andrew knew almost nothing about the man except that he was heir to a title and he had done something horrible and did not deserve it. Andrew had thought about telling the man that if titles were deserved rather than inherited, his father would not be the Duke of Ravenscroft. But the man seemed content to wallow in drink and a Byronic malaise.

“I haven’t stopped her yet,” Andrew said. “But I will.”

“How gallant of you to do all of this in honor of your mother. The sole motivation for me is desire for a woman.”

“I have no interest in Lily.” Andrew drank again. “She reminds me of my sister.”

Flynn’s brows rose. “You will have to introduce me to your sister.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. Flynn would not be allowed within five miles of his sister. “Not in appearance, in my feelings for her. The Countess of Charm has always struck me as the kind of woman I want to pat on the head and tell to run along and play.”

“Has she, now?”

“I have never thought of her in any sort of carnal fashion.”

“Haven’t you?”

Andrew drank again, surprised his glass was empty so quickly. “I suppose I might have thought of her carnally once or twice. She
is
a woman.”

“An attractive woman and a courtesan. She’s said to be a favorite of the prince.”

Andrew clenched his fists. He had always detested that rumor. “That is simply rubbish. She would never share the prince’s bed.”

“Wouldn’t she?”

Andrew slammed his glass on the table. “Stop questioning me.”

“Questioning you? Why, I believe every word you’ve spoken, old boy.”

“No, you don’t.”

Flynn drained his own glass. “You’re right. I think you are lying through your teeth.”

Andrew would have thrown his gin in Flynn’s face, if he’d had any remaining.

“Don’t look so Friday-faced, Darlington. I
want
to believe you. Trouble is, you’re not all that convincing.”

“You can go to hell.”

“Oh, I will. No doubt on that score. But since I am already damned, let me offer you some advice.”

“
You
are going to offer
me
advice?”

Flynn nodded and signaled for another round. “I understand completely if you do not take it to heart.” Two more glasses arrived, courtesy of the barmaid, and Andrew drank immediately. He was going to need a great quantity of gin to listen to this.

“First of all, Juliette was never going to fall in love with you.”

“She doesn’t concern me any longer.”

“Yes, she does, and I’m telling you to forget her. I didn’t know her, but our paths crossed. I’ve met the Duke of Pelham a few times as well. If Pelham is the sort of man she likes, you had no chance. You two couldn’t be more different.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I could never drink with a man like Pelham. He would annoy me in less than a quarter of an hour. Secondly, you and the Countess of Charm would suit.”

“Lily and me? How far in your cups are you?”

“Have you ever looked at the chit? Have you ever noticed the way she watches you?”

“We are discussing Lily, correct? She has no such feelings for me. In fact, tonight she was rather cool.”

“That’s because you were being a horse’s ass, which, by the way, you have been ever since you returned to Town.”

Andrew shook his head. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“No, you don’t.” But Flynn was the one who rose. “You’ve annoyed me enough for one night. It took you three-quarters of an hour, which is better than Pelham.”

“At least I have that consolation.”

Flynn grinned and swayed.

“You had better sit before you topple over,” Andrew told him.

Flynn waved a hand. “I’m going to hail a hackney and tell the driver to surprise me.” He lurched out.

“Good luck finding a hackney in this hellhole!” he called. The tavern’s other patrons quieted and gave him stony looks. Andrew grinned. “No offense, of course.” He pushed his gin away. He had better be able to walk out on his own. Flynn wasn’t really going to hire a cab and tell the jarvey to simply drive. Was he?

And the more Andrew pondered the idea, the more he liked it.

The evening had gone well, despite Darlington’s best efforts, Lily thought the next morning as she broke her fast. She sipped chocolate in bed and skimmed over the Cytherian Intelligence column. Her liaison with Ravenscroft was not mentioned in this morning’s edition, but it would be before the end of the week. She had made progress at the ball. Not only had Ravenscroft danced with her three times—three miserable times—he’d attempted to seduce her and asked if she would accompany him to the theater tonight.

Lily was glad it was one of the Shakespearean tragedies she had agreed to attend. She could never stay awake through the opera, and she would need all her powers of observation to study and learn what she could about the Duke of Ravenscroft. Thus far, he did not strike her as a man who wanted to kill the group of agents the Crown held responsible for the ultimate defeat of Napoleon. But then, traitors rarely wore signs proclaiming themselves as such. Still, nothing the duke had said or done had struck her as suspicious. Her instincts did not tell her she needed to fear him.

Only one event from the evening stayed with her—and it took the employment of all of her willpower not to think about him.

She’d dreamed about the kiss, of course. She was exceedingly weak-willed in her dreams. She’d dreamed of Darlington’s mouth on hers, his hands moving over her flesh, the delicious weight of his body hard and solid on top of hers…

Lily drank more chocolate. How had Fallon known Darlington would be such an impediment? He’d never so much as looked at her before! And now he would not leave her alone. It pained her to treat him so coldly, but she had no other choice. Her mission was paramount. And perhaps she hadn’t needed to be quite so cold. But it galled that when she was finally over her infatuation with him, that was the moment he chose to kiss her.

How she would have killed for that kiss months ago.

She lay back on her pillows and searched for something in her room to distract her. She’d had her room done in white lace and robin’s egg blue. Compared to Juliette and Fallon’s bedchambers, hers was a little girl’s room, but she sometimes felt her childhood had ended too soon. Her innocence taken before she was ready. She wondered what the gallants of the
ton
would think if she actually admitted a few to her bedchamber. Would they be surprised it was not exotic and lush as Fallon’s was or full of silk and splendor as Juliette’s?

Not that she suspected Fallon or Juliette had admitted many, if any, men to their bedchambers. Once all three girls had lived under the Earl of Sinclair’s roof. She’d missed that closeness when they had moved into separate town houses. She’d always been part of a large family, and it felt strange to live alone. Now she was the only one still living alone.

Once she had dreamed of sharing, if not her life, at least her bed with Darlington. She remembered when she first met him. He’d taken her breath away—and not simply because he frequently wore extremely tight breeches. He had curly brown hair she had never seen tamed into any sort of proper style. It was the kind of hair that made a woman want to run her hands through it, watch the curls twine about her fingers. He had thick eyebrows that offset large, dark eyes. His eyes were heavy-lidded and almost always looked as though he’d just been wakened. He had a sleepy quality about him that made Lily think of tousled beds and twisted sheets. But his mouth was his best feature. It was full and pouty and boyish. He had lips made for kissing. She could have feasted on those lips.

And if his good looks hadn’t been enough, he had the best taste in fashion save for Beau Brummell—better than Brummell to Lily’s mind. She felt that icon of fashion dressed too plainly. Darlington added a bit of flair to his choices. Darlington was too good-natured, too witty to wear sober garb. And yet he’d always dressed in a manner that befitted an earl who would one day be a powerful duke. Except, of course, for those sinfully snug breeches.

Lily had loved him—or at least lusted after him—from the moment she saw him. But he’d never looked twice at her. He’d walked right past her, his gaze fastened on Juliette and never wavering. Even when Juliette had introduced her, he hadn’t taken his eyes from the Duchess of Dalliance. Over the years, Lily had tried to tell Darlington that Juliette was a lost cause. She’d hinted and even been quite bold on one occasion when she’d had too many glasses of champagne. But Darlington had never listened. And while other men flocked around her, offering her jewels, houses, thoroughbreds—anything for access to her bedchamber—Darlington, the only man she wanted, had happily ignored her.

Until last night.

But even last night he had not wanted her. He wanted a way to be rid of her. She didn’t blame him for resenting his father’s lecherous behavior so soon after the Duchess of Ravenscroft’s death, but she did not appreciate the implication that she was some sort of grasping woman who was only after money and a title. Didn’t Darlington know her better than that?

Apparently not. And perhaps his judgment hurt most of all. She could not reveal her mission to him, but she would have liked him to at least question her interest in his father. Perhaps wonder at it. He seemed compelled to think the worst of her almost immediately. She would have to be certain to avoid him from now on.

Lily stretched and supposed she should ready herself for the day. She was at-home today and would undoubtedly have callers soon. And then she had the theater and work tonight. She rang for her maid and left her bed for her dressing room. The perfect day gown would make her feel better.

She had a dozen or more lovely gowns. As a courtesan, she was expected to dress fashionably. The Earl of Sin provided her with a small but steady allowance for these luxuries, which was supplemented by admirers who hoped to gain her favor by presenting her with gifts—everything from jewels to horseflesh. She loved jewels, but horses were much easier to sell. After all, a girl had to eat.

Now she chose a green-and-white striped muslin gown with sheer gauze sleeves for the afternoon, and later changed into a sapphire-blue silk gown with silver embroidery for evening. She wore her favorite sapphire necklace and sapphire earrings to match. She felt quite beautiful and only regretted her companion for the evening was the Duke of Ravenscroft. He had offered to escort her in his coach, but Lily did not relish being trapped inside a small space with the man. The countess had warned her long ago that unless she fancied fighting off her escort for a quarter hour, she should always take her own conveyance. That way Lily could leave when she wanted, especially if the evening did not go well.

She left her town house, giving her servants the rest of the evening off. She gave her coachman instructions and sat back in her seat, trying to prepare herself for the task ahead. The more time she spent with Ravenscroft, the more he would grow to trust her, and the more he would reveal. Most men, she had learned, were lonely and wanted someone to talk to. Lily was an exceptionally good listener.

Suddenly the coach lurched to a stop, and she heard a commotion. There were shouts and curses and what sounded like a scuffle in the coachman’s box. The carriage rocked, and she wondered why the coachman would have jumped down. Not waiting for an explanation, Lily reached under her seat for her pistol and parted the closed carriage curtains. She saw a blur of movement and then a man’s face pressed to the window. She jumped and slammed the curtains closed.

“Idiot!” she chided herself. “You have a pistol!” But before she could open the curtains again, there was pounding on both sides of the carriage. It took Lily a moment to realize what she was hearing. Someone on the outside was nailing boards across the doors, trapping her inside. “No!” She pushed at the doors, tried to force them open, but they were quickly sealed closed. The carriage began to move, and she threw the curtains open and tried to lower the window. But that had been sealed shut as well.

She pounded on the windows, hoping someone would see, but the carriage was streaming past the other conveyances. She pounded on the roof, demanded the driver stop. The carriage continued on at a breakneck pace. Lily knew when to bide her time. She could waste her energy now, when fighting was futile, or she could save her resources for when the carriage stopped. Gradually, the sounds of the city faded, and she realized they were leaving London. Her abductors could be taking her anywhere, and the plank in front of the window prevented her from seeing clearly where she was headed.

Wherever it was, her fashionable matched Norfolk Trotters would tire soon, and the drivers would either have to stop for the night or pause to change horses. If they stopped at a posting house, she would alert the grooms there. If they stopped somewhere remote for the night…

Lily clenched her pistol and waited.

***

Macbeth
was as gloomy as ever. Darlington hated tragedies. Even with Kean playing the lead role, the production did nothing to alleviate the melancholy Andrew had felt since his mother’s death. He needed a good comedy or a humorous opera—something by Mozart. Or perhaps what he really needed was an evening with an opera singer…

He smiled as the actors departed the stage for a brief intermission. Andrew had been watching his father’s box throughout the play, but he glanced at it now and saw the Countess of Charm had still not made an appearance. Good. His father looked annoyed. Perhaps this would be the end of the duke’s interest in the courtesan. And Lily never need know that Andrew engineered her little side trip.

He exited his box and made his way along the corridor, pausing when he saw a familiar flash of silvery blond hair. He inhaled sharply.

It was Juliette. No doubt Pelham would be with her. Andrew wished to avoid both of them. He turned to go back the way he’d come, when he saw a disheveled servant break through the men holding him back and call out to the Duchess of Pelham. Andrew paused, wondering what had possessed the man. He would be arrested for certain. But Juliette, always the most gracious of women, held up a hand to ward off the men who might restrain the servant. From where Andrew stood, he could see the man more clearly now, and he noted the man wore sapphire livery. Where had he seen that livery before? It was not Pelham’s.

Andrew edged closer, in time to hear the man tell the duke and duchess he feared for his mistress’s life.

“Where is your mistress now?” Pelham asked, his voice cool and composed.

“I don’t know, Your Grace. When I came to, the carriage was gone.”

“Wait a moment,” Andrew muttered. He knew who the man was now. It was one of Lily’s servants—probably her coachman. He was the man who would have had to be replaced to keep Lily from attending the theater tonight. But why was his clothing torn and his face battered and bruised? Fear seized Andrew’s chest like a fist. He’d specified no one was to be hurt. Lily’s coachman and outriders were to be replaced and her carriage diverted. He had instructed the men he’d hired to drive her around for several hours and then bring her to the theater. Andrew pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. He hadn’t realized how late it was. Lily should have been here by now… unless she’d just gone home. That was the more likely possibility.

“Darlington!”

Andrew’s head jerked up. He knew that voice. Juliette was looking right at him with those light blue eyes that made him feel as though she could see into his soul. Could she see his complicity in Lily’s disappearance? He went to her, his feet moving without his mind’s permission. But when Juliette called, he had no choice but to obey.

“Darlington,” she said again. “Have you seen or heard from Lily? Her coachman was accosted and two of her outriders seriously injured.”

Injured? Damn it! No one was to have been harmed! He glanced at Pelham, but the duke appeared stoic as always. “I haven’t seen her,” Andrew said. He half-expected Juliette to call him a liar, but despite his fears, she couldn’t see his thoughts. And even if she had been able to, there was nothing to worry about. Lily was probably home right now, sipping tea. “I’m certain there was some misunderstanding,” he said. “She’s undoubtedly at her town house.”

“Undoubtedly?” Pelham said, raising a brow.

“Lord Darlington,” Juliette said, placing her gloved hand on the arm of his coat. “Would you please go to Lily’s home and see for yourself? I would feel so much better.”

Andrew looked down at her hand and then up at Pelham. Pelham stared at her hand on his arm as well—and scowled. How could he refuse Juliette? He would have rather stayed and spent more time with her, but Pelham did not look as though he favored that idea. Darlington bowed. “Anything for you, Duchess.”

Pelham stepped between them, removing Juliette’s hand from his arm. “Send a note when you have found her, Darlington.”

“Of course.” And so Andrew found himself searching for the Countess of Charm—the very woman he had paid to make disappear for the night. He would find her at her town house, pen a note to Juliette, then head to the opera. If he hurried, he could call on his favorite opera singer in her dressing room.

But Lily was not at her town house. In fact, the lone servant in residence had not seen her or heard from her. Andrew checked his pocket watch again. She should have been returned by now. Perhaps the thugs he’d hired had mistakenly taken her to his town house? He traveled home, which was in St. James, and back across Town. She was not there either. And now it was very late, indeed. Too late for opera singers. Too late for Lily not to have arrived home.

But not too late for Andrew to realize he had made a grave error.

***

The carriage slowed to a stop, and Lily jolted awake. Drat! She’d been trying to stay awake, but a steady diet of too little sleep, coupled by the sway of the carriage for what seemed hours and hours, lulled her into a light slumber. She was still holding her pistol, cradled in her arms, and now she hurried to prime it. She might have time to fire only one shot, but that would be one less man to fight. She heard the scrape of metal against the board sealing the door of her carriage and pushed herself into the darkest recesses of the interior. She was thankful she’d worn the sapphire gown. It was dark and hid her well.