Passionate (37 page)

Mr. Clark nodded from his place beside the earl.

His cousin narrowed his eyes. “And I say the ‘pages’ he has returned with are a blatant forgery concocted by him and Miss Lily Strathmore, who is known for her artistic skills. There is nothing to prove they are genuine. Grandfather’s gift was conditioned on the recovery and publication of his journals. Since that condition has not been—and cannot be—satisfied, the estate can never go to James.” Reggie sat back.

Shuffling through the papers in front of him, Mr. Clark pointed out some text to the earl.

Lord Denby gave a short nod. “Actually, your grandfather’s intent was to honor his fallen friend, Mercer, and to secure his own position as discoverer of a new species of flower. The publication of the journals was to have accomplished both objectives. Sir Edward Strathmore is preparing a monograph that establishes your grandfather as the discoverer, and James has named it
Mercerium
, after the fallen comrade. If the recovered pages are included in the monograph then I am satisfied that the terms of the will have been fulfilled. Somergate is to be awarded to James.”

“And I say James has failed to return with the journals and the property goes to the crown.” Reggie was on his feet, fury vibrating through his lean frame. “The whole scheme you have cooked up is ludicrous. Besides, Kew Gardens is bound to challenge this obscene perversion of the will. Even if you give Somergate to James it will be tangled up in the courts until his children’s children are old men and women. Come along.” He motioned to his solicitor, who scrambled to gather up papers on the table before him. “I will not stay and listen to this nonsense any longer.”

As Reggie stalked past, he shot James a murderous glare. “You will never get that property,” he hissed.

The room was silent until the door had closed behind the two men. Then Lord Denby leaned forward, worry in the lines about his mouth. “Well, James, I am sorry. That did not go as smoothly as I’d hoped. I hadn’t anticipated Reginald would be so adamantly set against you inheriting Somergate. It’s not as though the property would go to him.” He shook his head. “I would like you to inherit it, but I’m afraid it may not be as straightforward as I had wanted. At least you know where I stand.”

James met his uncle’s gaze. “Thank you. It means a great deal. As for the estate…” He shrugged.

It was ironic to think he might actually end up with Somergate now that any hope of bringing Lily there was gone. The image that had grown in Tunisia was of the two of them there together. Without her it would just be acres of dirt.

“Don’t assume you won’t inherit, either,” Lord Denby said.

“Mr. Clark and I agree that our interpretation is sound.” He sighed. “I am committed to seeing you get the place even if it puts Reginald and myself at odds.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, James, I do. It is past time. I am the earl now, and must do what I think is best for the family.”

“Thank you, Uncle. Good day.” James rose and bowed.

“We will keep you apprised. Don’t worry.”

James gave a tight smile. “I won’t.”

He strode back down the corridor, hands clasped behind his back. Caroline would certainly have an opinion about this, and she would want to know the details—if she didn’t already. The staff doted on her and related all the choicest gossip almost as soon as it occurred. He turned the corner, heading for his sister’s rooms.

“Well, coz. Going to gloat?” Reggie uncoiled from a shadowed alcove and moved to block his way. “I’d hold off on that if I were you. Probably forever. There is no way you’re going to be master of Somergate.”

“That remains to be seen.” James kept his voice even. Convenient of his cousin to waylay him—it saved him the trouble of trying to track Reggie down later. “Since you’re here, why don’t you tell me what the devil you meant by abandoning Miss Strathmore on the dance floor. Or even dancing with her for that matter. I warned you months ago to keep your distance. She is none of your concern.”

“On the contrary. The time the two of you spent together in Tunisia is very much my concern. I was thinking of what would result if that connection were made public. Poor girl. She’s engaged, you know?” He sent James a sly glance. “Ah, you do know. And don’t argue that you don’t care—you came running last night to protect the lovely Miss Strathmore, even though she has rejected you for another. You make such a pathetic hero.”

“There’s nothing pathetic about it. It has to do with honor—obviously a word you have little acquaintance with.”

Reggie smiled. “That ridiculous sense of honor will be your undoing. I will not hesitate to drop a few choice words in the proper ears regarding Miss Strathmore’s conduct with you. I saw more than you know. The
ton
—in particular one Lord Gerald Buckley—will be very interested to find out about her doings while abroad. She will be ruined, James, and you will be the one who ruined her. It’s too rich, really.”

Blood thundering in his veins, James started toward Reggie. “You wouldn’t dare.” But he knew his cousin too well.

Reggie took a step back and lifted one brow. “I wouldn’t? James, I would. Unless…”

“Unless what?” James held himself back, jaw clenched.

“…unless you agree to deed your interest in Somergate to me.”

Blackmail. Of course. It was all about the estate. It wouldn’t be enough for Reggie to tie the property up in court—he wanted it for himself.

Hot anger flooded James. It was not losing the estate to his cousin, though that galled, it was the knowledge that he had been the instrument of his own downfall. Had he left Lily Strathmore alone, as he knew he should have, she would not be in jeopardy, and he and his sister Caroline’s places would be secure. Defeat had never tasted so bitter.

His cousin watched him, an avid gleam in his black eyes. “Consider it. Poor Miss Strathmore, shunned at every gathering, the disdainful looks and hurtful whispers following her wherever she goes. Her fiancé would certainly abandon the match—who wants another man’s cast-off?—and she would have no hope of making another. She would be ostracized. No more waltzing with gallant gentlemen.” Reggie shook his head. Then his look lightened and he gave James a mocking smile. “Perhaps you should refuse my offer. Let her be ruined and then make her your mistress. She would be pathetically grateful, I’m sure.”

“No!” The echo of his voice reverberated down the hall.

“Damn you Reggie. Damn you to hell. You can have the estate.” Lily’s future, however she had chosen to spend it, had to be protected.

“Come, coz, give me your oath. I know it will bind you while my solicitor prepares the formal documents.” His cousin smiled. Every slight, every taunt, every loss James had ever suffered at his cousin’s hand was in that dark-edged smile. He shook with the desire to take Reggie by the collar and beat him senseless, but he could blame no one but himself for this predicament. This was the price he must pay.

“I swear I will deed Somergate to you, but you will have no right to it until
after
Miss Strathmore has married Lord Buckley.” She would be safe once she was married. “And Reggie,” his voice grew softer, full of leashed menace, “if even a hint of scandal attaches to her name, I will hold you directly responsible and you will pay. Dearly. I swear that, as well.”

There. James closed his eyes to block out Reggie’s look of triumph. It was done. All that was left was to warn Lily.

James handed his hat to the butler. “Sir Edward is expecting me.” The botanist had requested he come look over the final proofs of the monograph.

“Yes sir. He is in the study. Shall I show you in?”

“Thank you, that won’t be necessary.” James appreciated the informality of the Strathmore’s household. Even here, in London, they did not stand on ceremony—which was well for his purposes today.

The faintest hint of a smile on the butler’s face reminded James that even the servants here felt as if they were part of the family. He had been welcomed as part of that extended family himself, and he would be glad of it—if it were not for Lily. As things stood, he would finish his business and then distance himself. This was her family, her refuge. He would not intrude after today, but the matter with Reggie demanded he see her one last time.

He started down the corridor, glancing behind him as he went. The butler had disappeared back toward the kitchen. Good. James stepped quietly past Sir Edward’s study and made his way to the sunroom where the specimens of
Mercerium
were kept.

If Lily were not here he would have to find another way to speak with her. They could not meet in public—that would only play into Reggie’s hands. This was the safest place he could think of.

The door was open, sunlight spilling onto the carpet. His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears. Quietly, he stepped up, pausing in the doorway. Lily was inside, painting. He studied her profile, the wisps of hair blazing chestnut in the sunlight, her lips slightly parted in concentration, her hands, firm and capable, guiding the brush over the paper.

She looked up, brush arrested in mid-air. It struck him that she looked far more vital here than she had at the ball. Her eyes were brighter, her face more open.

She set the brush down carefully. “Good afternoon, Mr. Huntington.” Her look held an edge of wariness.

“May I see it?” He indicated the page on the easel.

She hesitated, then nodded and moved aside so he could stand before the painting. “It is your flower, after all.”

There it was, the modest flower, yet somehow it seemed lambent, the petals glowing yellow with an inner radiance. Lily had made studies—they were fanned out on the table—root and stem, tendril and leaf, all exact, all possessing that sense of something more she put into each image she created. There was the wild beauty James had glimpsed in the valley. Looking, he could almost feel himself standing on that rock waiting for the new day to spill light into the valley.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Though you can barely tell from this well-traveled specimen, the rocks where I found it are washed in its fragrance. Like the smell of early light, or promise…” He shook his head, “I can’t describe it. But you have.” Memories of his time there, that instant of peace, rose in him.

She smiled at him and he felt his heart tighten. This would be far worse than he had thought if a smile from her still had the power to wrench his emotions so completely. Damn Reggie for his scheming, for making it impossible for James to avoid her. How could he forget Lily when he had to look into those sea-green eyes knowing how she had betrayed him—and that she was promised to another.

Her smile wavered. “I’m glad my painting finds favor with you. As the first to collect the flower, you may be surprised at the notoriety it will bring you in horticultural circles.”

“Notoriety is what concerns me, Miss Strathmore. I have learned what Reggie is up to.” He hated having to bring this up, reminding both of what had passed between them.

“And what is that?”

“He claims to have observed us in compromising circumstances. I can buy him off for a time, but I don’t trust my cousin at all.”

Her hands stilled. “Blackmail, then? If it’s money he’s after—”

“No. I have something he wants more than money. He will keep silent until it becomes his own. After that, we have only his word, which counts for nothing.” She looked at him, her eyes wide with understanding. “It would be best if you could move up the date of your wedding. The sooner you and Buckley are married, the safer you will be.”

She raised her face to his, her eyes flashing. “Are you saying that Reggie will ruin me? Unless you give him whatever he wants?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. Once you are married, though, the danger to you becomes far less. Lily, I urge you—”

“Yes, I know. But what of you? What price must he be asking? I cannot have you pay it for my sake. What we did in Tunisia we did together.” She stared at him, a challenge in her eyes. Her body swayed toward his—almost imperceptibly, but he was so attuned to her presence that he caught the slight movement immediately.

James forced himself to take a step back. It was either that or catch her up into his arms and kiss her fiercely and he could not go there again. His heart would never recover.

“I bear the brunt of the responsibility, and I will pay the consequences. What I stand to lose is little compared with your future.” His words were stiffer than he intended, but it was the only way he could hold on to the shreds of control slipping from him.

Lily wrapped her arms around herself. “You seem overly concerned with my future. Especially as you hold no place in it.”

He felt the hollowness begin to rise again. “Leave this to me. Your part is to finish what you began. Marry your intended—but do it soon.” He swallowed. “And now, I must call on your uncle. I trust we will not need to meet again. Good day Miss Strathmore.”

James was barely aware of leaving the room, of passing a white-faced Isabelle in the hall outside, of collecting his hat and gloves from the butler. The whole encounter had left him feeling emptier than ever.

Chapter 24

Even though Lily was expecting it, she still jumped when the butler knocked.

“Lord Buckley has come to call, Miss Lily. He awaits you in the parlor.”

She rose from the chair, and then slowly sat again. “Thank you. Edwin. Tell him I will be down shortly.”

Her gaze went to the window. It was a fine day outside. She wished she could snatch her pelisse, call for her maid Bess, and go for a long walk, but Lord Buckley’s carriage rested at the curb. There was ultimately no escaping this moment—it was time to face the question that had been looming before her since she had first agreed to the arrangement.

Lily stood and began pacing, her skirts swishing with each step. She had thought she was ready. And now with Lord Reginald threatening her, the sooner she was wed, the better. Her reputation was at stake. By marrying Lord Buckley it would remain intact. Even James was urging the match.

James. Her hand went to her mouth. She had wanted him to kiss her, and for a moment she had imagined he might, but it was only her imagination. He had pulled away. It was clear he had been thinking of other things—her reputation, his responsibility. He still loathed her, and would hate her still more after his cousin had extracted a price for his silence.