Royal's Bride (18 page)

“I got your message.” Pleading a stomach ailment, she
had avoided the weekly meeting at the Red Rooster. She simply hadn’t had the courage to face Royal so soon.

“Just toss Loomis a bone or two,” Jack told her. “Don’t give him too much. Make him come to you.”

She nodded. She knew how to handle a mark. Once she had started playing the game again, it hadn’t taken long for her unorthodox education to come flooding back to her. She knew about Loomis’s mother and that she used tarot cards and told fortunes, knew about the man’s fascination with Madam Medela. She knew what to do to capture his interest.

She leaned over and kissed her uncle’s whiskery cheek. “I have to go. I don’t want to be missed.”

Jack just smiled. “Good luck, luv.”

But Jack Moran had taught her it wasn’t a matter of luck. It was a matter of skill, and she had learned from a very good teacher, a friend of Jack’s, an old con woman named Sadie Burgess who had a weak spot for children and especially a lonely little girl.

Lily waved goodbye, turned and hurried back to the house, slipped inside and headed up the backstairs. A few minutes later, she was garbed as a Gypsy in bright, fluttery silk skirts and on her way back down to the drawing room.

Lord March’s sister, Lady Annabelle Townsend, stood waiting—the slender woman with the honey-brown hair she had seen at the Nightingales’ affair. She was even prettier up close, with fine-boned features, a slim, straight nose and blue eyes.

“Are you ready?” Lady Annabelle asked, and the gleam in her eyes said she knew exactly what was going on. Lady Nightingale hadn’t been informed of the
scheme in which her husband was involved, but clearly this young woman knew. No shrinking violet, Annabelle Townsend seemed excited at the prospect.

For an instant, Lily broke the rules and came out of character. “Thank you for helping us, my lady.”

“I am just Anna to my friends and since you are a friend of the duke’s, I am more than happy to help. Come along…Madam Tsaya.”

“I vill follow wherever you lead,” Lily said with a smile, back in character again.

They made their way along the hall into the large, ornate ballroom, which was crowded with the social elite. Lily spotted Jocelyn across the way and next to her the man she would marry. Tall and golden-haired, the Duke of Bransford was magnificent, a fact proclaimed by the sideways glances cast by half the women in the room.

Caught in his spell, Lily stumbled, and embarrassed color flooded her cheeks.

“Are you all right?” Lady Annabelle asked.

Lily managed a smile. “I am fine. A misstep, is all.”

Ignoring the duke, whose gaze was now locked on Lily, she followed March’s pretty sister toward the stage where the orchestra was playing.

“Since we haven’t much time,” her hostess said, “I’ll just jump right in.” Annabelle climbed the steps to the stage, leading Lily by the hand. The musicians stopped playing and the room fell silent.

“Good evening, one and all.” Annabelle smiled, waited for the last of the guests to quiet. “As you all know, we have a special guest in our presence tonight. I should like to introduce Madam Tsaya. If you are
lucky, perhaps you will be one of those she chooses. Perhaps you will be the lucky one to have good fortune.”

A round of applause went up.

“It is my pleasure to be here tonight,” Lily said. Her glance strayed to Jocelyn, slid over to Royal, and some little demon sparked to life inside her.

She surveyed the crowd, taking her time, letting the interest build. Then she fixed her attention on the duke. “Congratulations, Your Grace, on your upcoming nuptials.”

The crowd murmured then erupted. Everyone turned toward Royal, saw him standing next to one of the wealthiest young women in London and began noisily speculating on whether or not the Gypsy could be right.

Even from a distance, Lily could see Royal’s jaw go tight. Jocelyn just grinned, thrilled to be the center of attention and with the bets that would be made as to whether or not she would become the next Duchess of Bransford. Jo tossed a triumphant glance at her archrival, Serafina Maitlin, whose sleek red eyebrows drew almost together.

“Well, isn’t that something,” Lady Annabelle said to the excited throng. “Already we have a prediction for good fortune. Perhaps, if we are lucky, others will also receive good news.” Reaching over, she caught Lily’s hand and led her back down off the stage. The orchestra resumed its playing, but the buzz continued in the ballroom.

“That was extremely well done of you,” whispered Lady Annabelle.

“I am not sure His Grace would agree.”

Annabelle just laughed. “If Royal is embarrassed to be marrying the lady, he should marry someone else.”

Lily made no reply, but she thought she liked Lord March’s sister.

Walking next to her hostess, Lily began making her way round the ballroom, hearing her name spoken in nearly every circle. Royal’s friends had been doing their jobs. People were discussing Savage’s horse race win, March’s card win at White’s and the bet Lord Wellesley had wagered and won.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Preston Loomis in conversation with Lord Nightingale and realized the earl was telling him that he had indeed purchased the stock Tsaya had suggested and that, indeed, the investment had paid off quite handsomely.

“How does she claim to do it?” Loomis asked, standing close enough that she could hear.

“I am not quite certain.” Nightingale turned, indicating Tsaya should join the conversation. “Why don’t you ask her?”

Loomis arched a silver eyebrow. “And so I shall,” he agreed congenially, reaching up to smooth his mustache. “Will you tell us, my dear, how you are able to know these things?”

Lily flashed her mysterious smile. “I learned much from my grandmother’s sister, a Gypsy named Madam Medela. She also had the sight. I am sad to say she died a few years back. But unlike my great-aunt, Medi—that is what I called her—I see things in the stars.”

Loomis stared. “You are related to Madam Medela?”

“As I said, she was my grandmother’s sister. You have heard of her?”

“She was a friend of my mother’s.”

Lily nodded as if she wasn’t surprised. “My aunt
helped many people.” She stared at him, studied his face. “If you play cards with Lord Nightingale tonight, you will win.”

It had all been planned ahead of time, of course. Even now Royal’s friends were getting ready to play in a private salon—assuming Nightingale could convince Loomis to join him.

One of the earl’s nearly black eyebrows went up in challenge. “Would you care to test the lady? I was just getting ready to join a private game.”

Loomis glanced in her direction, but Lily was already slipping away. She had played her part. Now it was up to the men to play theirs.

She had just started down the hall when a man stepped into her way. She had noticed him when he came into the ballroom a few minutes earlier, young, no more than three-and-twenty, and dashing, with wavy dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. She was sure the ladies must all go atwitter when this one walked into a room.

His smile was as devastating as his eyes. “Well, look at this—it seems I am having my own good fortune, running into such a beautiful woman.” He made her an extravagant bow. “Rule Dewar, at your service, madam.”

Rule Dewar.
She knew Royal had two brothers, but she had never met them. This one was probably the youngest. And in a different way, he was as handsome as his older brother.

“I am Madam Tsaya,” she said, wondering if Royal knew his brother was there and if he had been told about their charade. The way those blue eyes seemed to be eating her up, she didn’t think so. The younger Dewar was obviously enamored of the exotic Madam Tsaya.

“I know who you are,” he said. “Though you are far too young to be addressed in such a manner. I should think you would prefer to simply be Tsaya. It is such a lovely name.”

“You are very bold, my lord.” She gave him what she hoped was a discouraging glance. “If you are looking for good fortune, tonight you vill have to look elsewhere.”

She started past him, but Rule caught her arm. “Surely you aren’t leaving. The night has only begun.”

“Please, there are things I must do. I have to go.”

His hand remained familiarly on her arm. “If you want to leave, I will be more than happy to take you wherever you wish to go. My carriage is just out front. Perhaps you would care to join me for—”

“Let go of the lady’s arm.” This from Royal, who had magically appeared in the hallway. Lily wasn’t sure if she was happy he was there or if she was better off with the brother.

Rule released Lily’s arm. “Well, if it isn’t my big brother, interfering as usual.”

“I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I had a couple of days off from school. I came with friends.”

Royal glanced down at Lily and she felt the familiar curl of heat in the pit of her stomach.

“The lady has to leave,” he said. “There is more going on here than you know. I’ll explain everything later.”

Rule’s dark eyebrows drew together. There were questions in those fierce blue eyes, but also respect for his brother. His gaze swung from Royal to Lily and he flashed a mischievous grin. “Another time, sweet Tsaya.”

Lily cast Royal a last fleeting glance, felt the heat in
those tawny eyes and jerked her gaze away. Hurriedly, she slipped off down the hall and headed up the backstairs. Checking to be sure she wasn’t seen, she ducked into the bedroom to change. The pale green ball gown waited in the empty armoire and Lily hurried over to retrieve it. She slipped out of her Gypsy costume and stepped into the taffeta gown, discovering it was more difficult to refasten the buttons than it had been to loosen them. Lily cursed softly as she struggled, then jumped at the sound of the door swinging open behind her.

Relief filtered through her at the appearance of Annabelle Townsend walking into the bedroom.

“Here, let me help you.”

“Thank you.” As the lady worked on the buttons, Lily tugged off her wig and stuffed it into a small cloth bag. As soon as the gown was fastened, she raced over to the dresser and began to pin up her hair. She had worn it in a simple knot at the nape of her neck and she managed quite easily to return it to the straightforward but elegant style.

Pouring water into the basin, she washed the kohl from around her eyes, the soot from her lashes, and wiped away the last traces of lip rouge.

“My, that’s quite a change,” Annabelle said. “Still, you are lovely.”

Lily flushed, unused to such praise. “Thank you.”

“I suppose we had better get you back downstairs before you are missed.”

Lily nodded. She started for the door, but Annabelle’s voice stopped her. “Why are you doing this, Lily? My brother told me most of it—about Loomis and the
swindle. I know how Quent and the others feel about Royal, but what about you? Why are you involved in this?”

Lily swallowed. How could she possibly explain? “The duke saved my life once. I owe him.”

Annabelle eyed her shrewdly. “I see.”

Lily wondered how much the young woman did see, and prayed she hadn’t guessed that Lily would do just about anything for the duke.

“You’d better go,” Annabelle said.

Lily nodded. “May you be blessed with good fortune, my lady,” she said with a smile and hurried out the door.

She had almost reached the main staircase when Royal appeared in the hallway beside her.

“I need a word with you,
Tsaya
,” he said with only a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

“If you are angry because I mentioned your impending engagement—”

“This isn’t about my engagement.”

“I didn’t encourage your brother. I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

“It isn’t about Rule, either. This is personal. I need to talk to you, Lily.”

“Not tonight. There isn’t time.”

“It’s important. When can we meet?”

She didn’t want to talk to him at all, but she could tell by the set of his jaw, he wouldn’t leave off until she agreed to hear what he had to say.

“Tomorrow. I’ll be working in my shop all afternoon.”

“All right. I’ll stop by at the end of the day. There are things we need to discuss.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Royal.”

“Perhaps not, but I have things to say to you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lily ignored the quiet thudding of her heart as he walked away. Smoothing her elegant taffeta skirts, she headed down the sweeping staircase. She was Lily once more. She wondered if Rule Dewar would have paid her the least attention if he had seen her as she really was.

At least her absence would go unremarked. Only Royal seemed to notice her.

And knowing he did only made matters worse.

T
he day seemed to go on forever. Lily had opened the shop for business that morning, though the official opening wasn’t until next week. Every hat was perfectly in place, all the trim set out so the ladies could make their own personal choice of hats they might wish to design.

The shop was ready for business. Lily had even added a few homey touches to the tiny apartment upstairs: lace doilies on the arms of the settee, an embroidered linen tablecloth on the tiny oak table, several petit-point samplers hanging on the walls. The shop was ready. The apartment was prepared, though she wouldn’t actually be moving in for some months yet, not until Jocelyn was married.

The thought sent a chill down her spine. Jo would marry the duke, though she didn’t love him. The duke would marry Jo to gain her fortune. Sometimes the world was an ugly place, Lily thought.

She shook off the thought, determined to return to
her usual optimistic nature. Buoyed by the sale of a pretty silk bonnet during the first hour she was open, she didn’t take much notice of the time until late in the afternoon. Worried that Royal would appear at any moment, growing more and more restless, Lily set aside the bonnet she was sewing and tried to read, one of her favorite pastimes, but it was impossible to concentrate.

By four o’clock she was pacing the floor, wishing she had never told Royal she would talk to him. Just when the tension seemed to stretch to unbearable limits, she spotted his tall figure through the mullioned panes on the top half of the door.

Lily took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and started walking in his direction. She paused as Royal walked in, ringing the bell above the door. He strode toward her, stopped directly in front of her, and suddenly the air in the room seemed to vanish. Her chest squeezed and it was difficult to breathe.

She forced herself to inhale a deep breath. “You came.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t still be here.”

“I told you I would be.”

“Yes, you did, but I was afraid you might—”

“What is it you want…Your Grace?”

His tawny gaze darkened at the use of his title instead of his name. “I think we are far beyond that, sweetheart, don’t you?”

Lily’s cheeks flushed. About as far as a man and woman could get. “I thought that…that putting some distance between us might…might be wise.”

His eyes bored into her. “If I had my way, there wouldn’t be the slightest distance between us, Lily. I
would bury myself so far inside you we wouldn’t be able to tell where one of us stopped and the other began.”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks burned. The words stirred an image so erotic dampness slid into her core. “Royal, please, you…you mustn’t talk that way.”

He sighed into the quiet inside the shop. “I know. It’s just that when I see you, I seem to forget everything but having you again.”

Her heart stuttered. He wanted her. But then, there had never been any question of that. She wondered what else he might feel for her, knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t enough.

Lily bit the inside of her cheek to hold back tears. “Why are you here, Royal? What do you want?”

He reached out and caught her hand, brought it to his lips. She wore no gloves and the warmth of his mouth sent a curl of heat into the pit of her stomach.

“You know what I want—I want you, Lily. But that is not the reason I am here.”

She couldn’t look away from his handsome face, from the straight nose and sensuous lips, the solid jaw and the tiny indentation in his chin. “Why, then?”

Reaching into the inside pocket of his brown, velvet-collared tailcoat, he withdrew a sheet of paper and handed it to Lily. She frowned as she unfolded it and saw a list of five men’s names. “What is this?”

“Those are the names of men who would make satisfactory husbands.”

“Husbands?
What are you talking about?”

“After what happened between us, Lily, you have no choice but to marry. Since I cannot be the man to see it
done, I have come up with the names of eligible men who would be willing to wed you.”

Lily just stared, unable to believe her ears. “I cannot credit you are saying this.”

Royal caught her shoulders, his expression grim. “Listen to me, Lily. I’ve already spoken to each of these men. I didn’t tell them your name, only that you were a lovely young woman who meant a great deal to me and would come to them with a sizable dowry. I told them the money would have to be postponed until after I am married, but as they are all in need of finances, it wasn’t an issue for any of them. All of them agreed to the terms of the marriage.”

Her teeth clamped together so hard her jaw hurt. She thrust the paper back into his hands. “You have gone too far, Royal Dewar. You are mad if you think I would even consider such a thing.”

Royal straightened, making him seem even taller. “I am hardly mad. This is the only thing that makes any sense.”

Lily clamped her hands on her hips, her temper barely in check. “It makes not the least amount of sense. I have a life,
Your Grace
, in case it hasn’t occurred to you. I have opened my own shop. I have my own place to live. I don’t need you or any other man.”

He held the sheet of paper out to her. “Just take a look. That is all I am asking.”

She stared at the paper in his hand, her temper nearly out of control. She snatched the list from his fingers and looked at the names, a couple of whom she recognized.

“I thought you said Emmet Burrows was a pip-squeak.”

He cleared his throat. “I may have spoken too harshly. Besides, I thought you liked him.”

“I don’t even know him.” She looked him in the face, her anger goading her on. “You want me to marry?”

“It’s not what I want that matters. It is what has to be done.”

“And I get to choose, is that correct?”

He swallowed. “I’ll get you whichever man you want.”

Lily pursed her lips, pretending to contemplate. “If I can have anyone I want, then I think I shall choose someone not on your list. I believe I will choose your friend, Mr. Savage. Can you get him for me?”

Royal’s tawny eyebrows slammed together. “Savage! Now you are the one who is mad. The man is a dedicated rogue. He wouldn’t be true to you for a moment.”

She knew that, of course. Jocelyn had told her all about Jonathan Savage. “All right, then perhaps I’ll have Lord March. He seems a nice enough fellow.”

Royal’s features went dark. “March is…March is too much of a perfectionist to make a good husband. He is searching for the perfect female and I doubt he will ever find one who meets his exacting standards. He would be a very bad choice indeed.”

She tapped her chin with her finger as if she was thinking it over. “I can see where that might be a problem.” She flashed a triumphant smile. “I have it! I’ll marry your brother Rule! He is handsome in the extreme. He is young and I imagine quite virile. I suppose if I have to wed—”

“Not Rule! There is no way you are marrying my brother!”

She laughed then, because he was jealous, as she had hoped he would be. He didn’t want her to marry his brother or any of his friends.

“You don’t have to worry, Royal. I’m not going to marry anyone. I told you—I have a life of my own and I am quite content.”

“But…but what if you are with child?”

“I’m not.”

“You know that for certain?”

Her face went warm. Her monthly courses were hardly a subject she wished to discuss. “I am certain.” She was sure she wasn’t pregnant, though deep inside that same little part of her still wished she were.

Royal raked a hand through his hair, shoving the golden strands into slight disarray. “Well, that is one less worry, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” she said, wishing she meant it. “Now, if you are finished, I would like you to leave.”

For several long moments he just stood there. She could feel his gaze burning into her. The air seemed to thicken and warm, seemed to swirl around them, pulling them closer together. The tension between them seemed almost a tangible thing, changing direction, turning into something else entirely. Her breathing grew shallow and so did his. Her heart was thrumming. His lion’s eyes seemed to hold her rooted to the floor.

With a growl low in his throat, Royal reached for her, but Lily backed away. She couldn’t risk it. A single kiss and she knew she would be lost.

“I…I want you to leave.”

A tremor went through him and she realized how hard he was fighting for control. Royal took a shaky breath and nodded. “You are right, of course.” Still he made no move.

“Royal, please…”

He studied her face a moment longer, taking in each
of her features, then wordlessly turned and started for the door. The bell rang as he opened it, and the moment he stepped outside, Lily burst into tears.

“She hates me. Every time I close my eyes, I see the hurt and disgust in her eyes.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” Sherry lounged in a deep leather chair in front of the hearth. Cracks spidered the once-expensive leather, but the seat was still comfortable, and orange flames curled over the grate in the hearth, warming the study.

“She might be angry,” Sherry continued. “After all, you did take her virginity without benefit of marriage—but she doesn’t hate you. I am sure she appreciated your efforts to make things right.”

Royal scoffed. “If she’d had a pair of sewing shears, the lady would have cut off my bollocks.”

Sherry laughed. “So she wasn’t impressed with our list.”

“You might say that.”

“I have to admit, the girl has more grit than I had believed. She’s been doing a smashing job with this Tsaya thing. If you watch her working, you forget she’s the sweet little lamb you ruthlessly seduced.”

Royal grunted. “I appreciate the reminder.”

Sherry just laughed. “You needn’t look so guilty. The lady is far tougher than she appears. If she hadn’t wanted you, you never would have had her.”

It was true. Lily was tough and vulnerable at the same time, and she was the sweetest, most desirable creature he had ever known.

“At any rate,” Royal continued, “she refused to con
sider marriage to anyone. She says she has her own life. She doesn’t need a man to take care of her.”

“Good for her. Of course, we all know it isn’t true. There isn’t a female on earth who wouldn’t be better off under a man’s protection.”

Royal frowned. “Annabelle Townsend seems to do well enough.”

“True, but Anna’s late husband left her very well settled. The only income your Lily has is whatever she might earn from her millinery shop.”

Worry swirled through him. He looked down at the stack of bills on his desk. The cost of the scam they were running had begun to add up. Yesterday, at Charles Sinclair’s instruction, Jack Moran had rented an apartment for Tsaya. Very soon now, Sinclair believed, Loomis would wish to pay the Gypsy a call.

Along with those expenses and the staggering amount of money necessary to run a dukedom, he could barely make ends meet. At least the brewery he had built was doing well. Swansdowne Ale was gaining a reputation as one of the finest in England. Still, the costs of the endeavor had not yet been repaid. There was no profit yet, though he hoped that eventually there would be.

“Once Jocelyn and I are married, I will make certain Lily is well cared for,” he vowed. “She is part of Jocelyn’s family, after all. It would only be proper.”

Sherry swirled the brandy in his glass, took a slow swallow. “Perhaps you could make her your mistress. That would solve any number of problems.”

It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred, only the first time it had been put into words. Erotic images arose: Lily naked, awaiting him in the town house he
rented for her; Lily lying on top of the bed, her slender legs spread wide to receive him, her breasts like ripe plums, inviting him to taste them. Desire stirred to life and the blood began to pool in his groin. Royal bit back a groan and forced the images away.

“If only I could.” But Lily deserved a better sort of life than that and he was fairly certain she wouldn’t agree even if he asked her. God’s teeth, how had he let his feelings for her get so far out of hand?

Sherry started to say something, when a light knock sounded and both men glanced toward the door. The butler’s gray head appeared in the opening.

“Your brother, Lord Rule, is here, Your Grace.”

But Rule was already pushing his way into the study. Royal cast Sherry a glance, telling his friend without words that discussing his involvement with Lily was off-limits, even to his brother.

“So you are still in town,” Royal said as Rule paused at the sideboard to pour himself a drink. “I thought you were heading back to Oxford.”

“I’ve got a couple more days. I thought maybe there was a way I could help you with this Loomis fellow.”

The night of the ball Royal had filled his brother in on the swindle Loomis had perpetrated on their father, Madam Tsaya’s true identity, and how he hoped to get a measure of justice by regaining at least some portion of the money Loomis had stolen.