My Fair Lily (20 page)

“Here now,” the midwife said, stepping back into the room and noticing their smiles. “What’s this? A party?” She nudged Daisy back into proper birthing position. “You concentrate on getting that
little
tyke out of you. Stop dawdling and start pushing. Your body’s
telling me the babe is ready to slip out.”

“How can you tell?” Lily asked, and listened with fascination as the knowledgeable midwife explained it to her in gory, intimate detail. Which was why Lily was closest at hand when not a half hour later, Daisy gave birth to a little girl.

Lily was still marveling about the miracle of life as they all left the room to relate the good news to Daisy’s husband. Gabriel let out a rafter-shaking whoop and took the stairs three at a time to be with his wife and new daughter. Lily, her sisters, parents, and brother-in-law all remained downstairs and toasted the newborn. While their small group laughed and cried and hugged each other, their father opened a bottle of remarkably good champagne and poured everyone a glass. The champagne bubbles tickled Lily’s nose, but it was otherwise delicious and quite easy to drink.

She had three glasses of it.

Which was why she was a little off her stride when Rose’s
husband,
Julian Emory, burst through the door and announced, “Ewan’s been
arrested.”

LILY WAS SO ANGRY
she could spit!

“You promised me you wouldn’t do anything foolish!” she exclaimed, finally admitted into the duke’s library well past ten o’clock
the following morning and finding Ewan seated at his grandfather’s desk, engrossed in the Carnach ledgers he’d brought down from Scotland as though nothing untoward had happened at White’s last night.

Even Jasper thought better of leaping up to greet her. Instead, the coward scampered out of the room as though his tail were on fire. She heard the crash of another pot and
whoosh
of soil scattering across the marble floor as Jasper slipped and slid his ungainly way toward the stairs.

Ewan finally glanced up. “How did you get in here? I thought
my grandfather banned you from ever stepping foot in his
mausoleum again.”

“He has, but I’m not about to let a crusty old man or his hulking footmen stop me from talking to you.”

He rose and came to her side, his eyebrow arched. “So you strong-armed your way through their defenses? Impressive.”

She glowered up at him. “How could you do what you did last night?”

“Easy. I simply raised my fists—”

“You know that isn’t what I meant.”

“I made no promises to you, Lily. Never said I’d play by
society’s rules. That was your idea, not mine.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Is this how you make amends with Desmond and Evangeline? By almost killing Desmond?”

“My cousin deserved the beating. I let him off too easy at Madame
de Bressard’s. The coward sent his villainous underlings to Tattersalls to
hurt you. I wasn’t about to let him get away with that despicable stunt a second time. It was the proper thing to do. I
should have taken care of the matter sooner.”

She wanted to insist that he was in the wrong, but couldn’t. She was just as angry over that incident and furious that the Tattersalls authorities had done nothing about finding their attackers. Nor had Ewan’s grandfather chastised Desmond for his untoward behavior. She sighed in partial surrender. “Did you have to do it in the most exclusive gentleman’s establishment in London, in front of the most influential men in England? Couldn’t you have waited until he left his club?”

“You mean ambushed him in a dark alley? It isn’t my style.”

“Yes... no. Uncle George intended to look into the matter. He
would have taken care of the insult to me.”

“Insult? The bastard struck you when he couldn’t get to Meggie at the dress shop, and then tried again at the horse auction. He
happens to
be my cousin, therefore my problem. Do you think I’d let your
relatives risk their lives on a Cameron clan matter?”

She wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and throttle him. “You were very lucky last night that—”

“Desmond was the lucky one. I still may kill him.”

“You’ve played into his hands. Now, everyone believes you to
be the madman he claims you are.” She glared at the thick-headed Scot,
wondering how he was ever going to gain admittance to White’s or any
gentleman’s club for that matter. Worse, how was he
going to fulfill his father’s wish to reconcile the family? His cousin
was doing a very effective job of pushing him away. Ewan was
doing all he could to help him.

“Lily, I don’t give a damn.”

“Spoken like a true Cameron. Oh, yes. I’ve read up on your clan history and wasn’t in the least surprised to learn that you’re the most feared fighters among the fierce Scots, the most infuriatingly honorable—”

“Thank ye, lass.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment. You lose your estates to the Crown every few centuries and spend the next few centuries trying to gain them back because of your stubborn, twisted sense of honor
and your penchant for spilling blood. You go to war and worry about the consequences later, when you’d be better served thinking first... oh, what’s the use? You’ll be fortunate if the Prince Regent lets
you off with just a warning.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and planted himself directly in front of her. “Are you quite through blistering me?”

She took a startled step back, suddenly realizing she might have come at him a little too forcefully. He was a laird. A duke’s
grandson. A very large and muscular one. The proud leader of a warrior clan. “Oh, Ewan. I’m sorry. I spoke out of concern for your well-being and simply forgot myself.”

“Ye’re forgiven,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m sorry, too. And the Prince Regent did come
after me.”

“What?”

“I still have my lands, but I’ve been fined by the Crown.” He returned to the desk and lifted a parchment from it, handing it over to her.

She took the parchment from his hands and read it. “Outrageous! I’ll
see what Uncle George can do about reducing it.”

“Ye will no’, lass.”

Oh, his brogue was thick again. “But it’s a fortune!”

“It’s an expense I can afford. I will no’ fight it, nor permit you to interfere—”

“Interfere!”

“Very well,
intercede
on my behalf. However, ye were right about the Cameron nature. We have an uncanny ability to lose fortunes to the Crown because we fight first and worry about the consequences
later. I would no’ be a very good leader if I endangered the well-
being of my clan in this dispute with Desmond.”

She held the breath she was about to release. Could it be? A
shred of sense from the proud Scot?

“You win. Lily, I’m yours.”

***

Ewan expected that allowing Lily to mold him into a proper gentleman was a mistake, but he’d agreed to it for two reasons. The first was his approach was getting nowhere with his cousins and his grandfather, all of whom believed he was a savage and disdained him for it. He now stood in his grandfather’s study at Lotheil Court, pacing a hole in the exquisite oriental carpet while waiting for the old man, Desmond, and Evangeline to arrive. Ewan had asked for a family meeting and wasn’t certain any of them would appear.

The second reason for agreeing to Lily’s plan was her situation
with the Royal Society. Its board’s refusal to acknowledge her research, even her very existence, was squarely his fault. Had it not
been for his feud with his grandfather, she would have been tolerated by those
old fossils enough for the results of her research to be published even if they still wouldn’t have accepted her as a member. No doubt most of the credit would have gone to Ashton Mortimer. Still, it would have been published, and that would have made Lily very
happy.

Though he was loathe to admit it, there was a third reason for allowing Lily to get her hands on him... simply put, he wanted Lily’s hands on him. All over him. As often as possible. That he wanted her close was not surprising. That he
needed
her close, was. He didn’t like needing anyone. Certainly not this bookish snip of a girl.

“You aren’t carrying weapons, are you?” Ewan’s grandfather asked, striding into his study and taking a seat at the head of the small conference table situated near the far wall. It was shortly after
three
o’clock, and afternoon light streamed in through the row of
Palladian windows, enhancing the warm, red tones of the mahogany wood. Otherwise, there was no warmth to be found in the room, certainly
none from the duke, who shot daggers at Ewan with his icy gaze. The rest of the furniture—grand mahogany desk and ornately carved chairs, gleaming silver candlesticks and imposing burgundy
silk drapes framing the windows—was like the old man himself, ancient, cold, and severe.

“You’re mistaking me for your other grandson, the one who likes to use weapons against defenseless young ladies.” Ewan folded his arms across his chest to hide that his hands were now clenched
into fists. Not that he’d ever use them on his grandfather, no matter how much he disliked him. No, striking the elderly and defenseless was something only English gentlemen did. And he was considered the savage?

“You’re referring to that little nuisance—”

“Lily’s not a nuisance.”

His grandfather waved his hand impatiently. “The girl ought to
be thinking of parties and marriage, not conducting research on shifting land masses and their effect on animal populations. That’s Mortimer’s topic and he should be taking the lead on that work.
Have you read her
monograph on baboon populations? The chit is actually comparing our civilized culture to that of baboons, as though such creatures have the ability to organize, to think, to develop a political structure. I will not have the nobility of man tarnished by her ridiculous comparisons.”

Ewan arched an eyebrow. “You know quite a bit about her research.”

“I know everything that goes on at the Royal Society.
Particularly about that nineteen-year-old upstart.”

“Yet Lord Mortimer’s son is working with her, as you’ve just admitted, and you’ve granted him membership in your
exalted
Society.”

His grandfather was not in the least repentant or ashamed. “She
mocks us, compares men to dominant, male baboons. Ashton Mortimer treats his research seriously. His ideas are thoughtful, respectful.”

“Dull as dishwater.”

“Deliberate, building on the ideas of the great men who came before him.”

“Lily’s research is based on foundations set out by Sir William Maitland, an internationally recognized scholar.”

“Forget the girl, Ewan. Come sit down and do stop glowering at me. She isn’t important.”

“She is to me.”

He pinned Ewan with his calculating stare. “Since when have
you developed a taste for English women? Too bad your father
didn’t.
We could have avoided this family nonsense if only your father had
behaved.”

The old man was simply goading him now. “This isn’t about my taste in women. It’s about justice and honor, doing the right thing.”

“I see. The sex of the victim, her age and beauty, is irrelevant. What matters is defending a wronged party? And it doesn’t hurt that the
wronged party has ruby lips and deep blue eyes and a lithe body that—”

“Enough, Grandfather. I won’t have Lily spoken of that way.” Why had he bothered to call the meeting? Desmond and Evangeline were late. So was Meggie. Where was she anyway? And the old man was having far too much fun baiting him.

“What of the way she spoke about me? I won’t have her
insulting
me privately or publicly. How dare she send that piece of libel to Lady Hardstocking! The girl is forbidden to step foot in the Royal
Society hall until she crawls to me in abject apology.”

Ewan thought it odd that he hadn’t banned her from Lotheil Court as well. Supposedly he had, but Lily had managed to visit him anyway. She was a determined little thing, but not even she could have remained at Lotheil Court against the duke’s wishes unless the duke had decided to look the other way.

Perhaps his grandfather feared that he and Meggie would leave for good if Lily were no longer permitted to grace this
mausoleum
, as she’d called it in her letter to Lady Hardstocking. That was interesting, perhaps a glimmer of hope that relations might improve among the Camerons.

A commotion at the door distracted Ewan from further thought.
In the next moment, Evangeline and Desmond entered the study, Desmond sporting two black eyes and a bandage across his swollen nose, a sign that Ewan had broken it in last evening’s fight. Ewan wasn’t sorry about that. Desmond, the cowardly wanker, had
intended far worse for him and Lily.

“Why are we summoned, Grandfather?” Evangeline asked, settling beside the old man and casting him a well-practiced, feminine pout.

He turned away to shoot Ewan an irritated glance. “Ask your
cousin.
He’s
the one who called the meeting.”