Elizabeth Boyle (45 page)

She saw herself then—the pampered and spoiled daughter of a respected comte, growing up in a fairy-tale château, staying in the family apartments at Versailles.

Adelaide would have been a friend, just as Giles said. They might have gone to the same convent school near Paris, shared secret hopes of marriage, and eventually been presented to the King and Queen in all the glory and honor generations before them had been granted.

She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t fall prey to Giles’s planted sentiment. Everything from that life was gone, as lost as Adelaide’s own brief existence.

Lily had her own life to live, and that meant being in London not Paris.

And no one would convince her otherwise.

“I don’t think I’m the right woman to send,” she demurred. And though it galled her to say it, she continued. “I haven’t your cleverness or courage, Sophia. I am sure I would fail or make some other mistake. Sending me would be a disaster.”

“Not to worry, my girl,” Lord Dryden interjected, “I’d not send you into that nefarious city without someone to keep you from harm.”

Lily watched as her brother-in-law nodded in agreement. Was Giles going to leave Sophia right before her confinement? The situation was grave indeed and for a moment she wondered if she could possibly spare the time and venture to Paris. If only to see that Lucien remained safe.

“Do you think it wise for you to leave Sophia, Giles?” she asked.

“I’m not going, Lily,” he said. “Lord Dryden has assigned his best agent to assist you. I’m sure you, of all people, will be quite pleased with the arrangement.”

She didn’t like the way he almost smirked as he said it. If not Giles, then who else could Lord Dryden consider sending to Paris?

Clearing his throat, Lord Dryden continued with his fatherly assurances. “Lily, I will make every arrangement possible to see you are sent home in time for whatever obligations you feel you cannot miss. And as for being clever or brave, you look a sturdy enough gel to me, and capable as well. You’ll be just fine. Consider this your great adventure.” He continued outlining her qualifications and the steps he was taking to ensure her safety.

Lily only half listened, absently twisting the small garnet ring on her finger while she considered her options. She had to be in London by the first week in January, but to tell Lord Dryden why was impossible.

She needed a reason that even he would consider important enough to call off his entire scheme.

She glanced down at the ring, an odd piece her father-in-law had given her just before his death. The gold band fit her finger precisely, and for some reason she’d continued to wear the whimsical piece, even before she’d known its true significance or why Thomas’s father had asked her to wear it. Something about the bumblebee insignia and the eyes made of deep claret stones—which even now twinkled in the sharp sunlight streaming through the windows—had attracted her to the strange piece. Looking up and outside, she spied the dense, green foliage of the maze, a harsh reminder of her last visit to Byrnewood.

The visit in which her foolish, girlish fancies of love and matrimony had died.

And you thought by now you would be wed to that heartless wretch.

Married and blissfully happy.

In an instant, as she momentarily mourned the future she’d envisioned as a girl, she found her excuse.

A reason so good, so compelling, not even Lord Dryden could continue his plaguing arguments.

Taking a deep breath, she announced, “I couldn’t possibly go to France. I’ve been loathe to reveal this, as it was to be a surprise, but I have no other choice but to tell you. I must be in London by the first week in January, as I am to be married.”

Webb Dryden had stood outside listening through the open garden door long enough. Lily’s early protests seemed likely enough, but this blatant lie about her alleged nuptials, … well, it was time to call an end to her charade.

Once she realized who her partner would be, he thought, she would forget this imaginary bridegroom and be more than willing to go to Paris. While the notion sounded vain, everyone knew Lily D’Artiers held a deep
tendre
for him, and if he must use her feelings for the safekeeping of his country so be it.

He’d just have to remember to find a way to double-lock his bedroom and bar the windows while they were on assignment together. She was, after all, a more experienced woman than she had been at fifteen, and a widow to boot, he’d learned in the last hour.

“Married again? Who are you following around now?” Webb said as he stepped from the garden into the study. He looked at Lily for the first time in five years and couldn’t imagine how his father thought to pass her off as the gentle convent-reared young lady Napoleon expected.

If she’d grown up, it was hard to tell, for the gown she wore seemed too big for her, the black cloth leaving little hint of anything other than the thin, gangly child he remembered. He smiled to himself as out of nowhere he remembered Lady Marston’s persistence that some day she would grow into a great beauty.

The next time he saw Amelia, he’d have to collect the crown he’d bet her that such a miracle would never happen.

As it was, the somber black color of Lily’s gown only further paled her already fair features, leaving her lifeless next to her always vibrant sister.

Life in the Americas obviously hadn’t tamed her boisterous manners, he thought, looking at bits of leaves and a small branch stuck in her hair, as if she’d been out climbing trees.

In truth, he thought, dismissing Amelia’s predictions without another thought, the little hoyden looked pretty much like she had five years earlier, and he didn’t give her appearance another thought.

Even now, she just stared at him, her mouth open at his sudden arrival.

Probably shock at his unexpected return back into her dull and otherwise colorless widow’s existence.

He crossed the room, grinning at her, turning up his charm. “Marriage? Really now, Lily, can’t you come up with a more believable excuse than that? Toss aside this fiancé and come to Paris with me.” He held out his hand to her, expecting her to take it up with greedy delight, but to his consternation, she stared down at his fingers as if they were covered in some horrific plague-infested lesions.

What was this? Suddenly Webb noticed the differences between the gawky fifteen-year-old of his memory and the woman before him. Where were her soft, come-hither glances? Fluttering lashes? Shy flirtations?

No, her steely green gaze bore into him hard and sharp, cutting him into pieces, as if she’d measured the changes in him and found him lacking.

No, Lily hardly looked amused, or in awe, or like a woman reunited with her one and only true love, as she’d called him in her written devotions five years before. Actually, if Webb was going to be honest and admit it, she looked spitting mad.

Probably just angry that he’d taken so long to come back into her life, he told himself as she spun around and faced his father.

“This,” she said, jerking her thumb under Webb’s nose, “is the highly regarded agent you would send with me? I won’t have my reputation sullied by traveling with the likes of this indiscreet Lothario.”

“Lothario?” Webb’s ears burned at the contempt literally dripping from her words.

“Yes, womanizer, rake, deceiver, cad,” she added. “Need I go on, or are there other sins you would like me to add to the list?”

Webb smiled as it struck him. Lily was jealous. Sophia had probably mentioned the names of one or another of his mistresses in the hope of turning her little sister’s affections away from him, but it had only made Lily all that more possessive.

He glanced at her again. Well, hadn’t it?

Both Sophia and Giles looked a little too amused by this turn of events to convince him his assessment was correct.

“I’ll not be sent to my death with this incompetent wretch,” Lily continued.

“Incompetent?” Now it was Webb’s turn to grow annoyed. He was many things, a little too daring at times, perhaps, but incompetent, never!”

“Lord Dryden, while I understand that your request must be taken care of immediately, I really must decline. Your son and I are completely unsuited for any kind of partnership. And if my fiancé ever discovered that I had been traveling in the company of such a man, my future happiness would be compromised, as would my reputation. I beg you to find someone else. I can’t go to Paris. And certainly not with the likes of
him
.”

Him
? She made him sound like a leper.

Webb looked down at Lily’s fair features and saw no evidence of her playing hard to get.

No, she detested him and she meant every word.

Lothario. Rake. Incompetent.

Her utter disdain irritated him, when rationally he knew he should be relieved. However, the idea of Lily detesting him just didn’t fit his view of the world.

Somewhere in all the danger, in all the escapades, in all the times he thought he might lose his life, there had always been a little whisper in the back of his mind, calling him back to the green, untouched hills of England.

A place where innocent girls like Lily waited for their heart’s desire to come home.

And while it had never meant too much to him except in those desperate, dark moments, it did now. For no other reason than he wanted his topsy-turvy world righted.

Besides,
he
was supposed to be protesting. Not her. Everyone knew that Lily loved him.

“Lily, we didn’t know you intended to get married,” Sophia was saying. “
Maman
never mentioned a word of an impending wedding in her letter.”

“I haven’t told them yet,” Lily replied. “It happened … aboard the ship. Yes, during the crossing. He proposed one stormy night when I was convinced all was lost. Quite romantic, isn’t it?”

Webb turned a critical eye on Lily.

For years he’d staked his life on being able to judge people’s credibility and right now Lily’s came up short. Her story, one moment rushed and the next hesitant, remained too full of holes. Even now she stood twisting her odd little ring with nervous motions that belayed her steady, false smile.

No, Lily was lying. He’d suspected as much when he’d been out in the garden listening to the conversation, and now as he stood here and watched her features, he was convinced.

But why?

“Do tell,” Webb said, stepping around her and retaking his place in the wingback. Lily shot him a vexed look at being left out in the middle of the room. He only grinned back, leaving her stranded and on display for everyone to monitor her every move.

All the better to catch her lying, he thought, as he stuck his legs out in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest. “I love tales of romance. Is it some common sailor or did you hook the affections of some toplofty captain?”

Her brows furrowed and Webb thought she looked ready to dash the first available object over his head.

“Neither,” she shot back. “He … he … he is .. .”

“Alive and breathing?” he offered.

“Is it your Mr. Saint-Jean?” Sophia asked. “Is that why you asked them to visit us here at Byrnewood?”

Webb sat up and watched Lily’s features intendy. She seemed caught for a moment, as if she didn’t know which way to turn—which thread to cast out and which one to cling to in her entanglement.

“Yes,” she said, “I’m engaged to Mr. Saint-Jean.”

Sophia smiled at her sister. “Well, that must have been some crossing. I know
Maman
was well pleased that he and his mother were so willing to escort you here, but imagine her surprise when she discovers they are now to be family. Oh, dear, no wonder you’ve been anxious to get up and change, with them scheduled to arrive before supper.”

Webb perked up at this news. “Your Mr. Saint-Jean coming here? Imagine that. I can’t wait to meet the bridegroom-to-be.” Even as he spoke, he chanced to see movement on the driveway. “As providence would have it, here comes the lucky man now.”

The little minx had the decency to pale, though whether it was from the idea of being caught by her fiancé looking such a fright or whether she was afraid her day of reckoning had arrived sooner than she expected, he didn’t know.

Lily glanced out the window as well and watched with horror as the gilt Trahern carriage rounded the last bend.

“Mercy and Mary,” she said aloud, before she could stop herself.

Sophia rose from the couch. “Go on and change. Giles and I can make our introductions without you.”

Without her? Lily thought. Not likely. Not with Webb Dryden standing on the sideline waiting like a cat to pounce on her credibility.

His grin said it only too plainly. He didn’t believe her lies. Why the great oaf probably thought she still harbored feelings for him.

He was right about the engagement, but she’d die before she’d ever allow herself to fall in love with Webb again. Even if he was still the most handsome man she’d ever met. The subtle changes time had brought to him—the cynical cast of his gaze, the small wrinkles about his eyes, and the wariness that had never been there before—did little to dispel the heart-wrenching appeal of his rakish smile and the lean, solid lines of his body.

“Go on, Lily, they are almost here,” Sophia said, shooing her toward the door. “You don’t want them to catch you on the stairs.”

“Oh, Mr. Saint-Jean doesn’t care about those things,” Lily said, quite truthfully. No, Adam quite forgave her hoyden manners and dress, for he admired the way she could ride and handle her estates as well as any man. In truth, he’d find her stunning announcement a great lark and would jump right into the deception wholeheartedly.

He’d even asked her several times to marry him, but he’d made such light of the subject and always done it so cavalierly that she’d never taken his youthful advances seriously.

“He will be most anxious to see me. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll greet them and bring them right in.”

With every ounce of reserve she possessed, she walked slowly from the study, that is until she cleared the door. Then she raced across the foyer and down the front steps, even as the carriage pulled to a halt.