Summers, Jordan (9 page)

Devlin’s gaze widened and he swayed. “Half?”

“To start.” Richard tugged at his cuffs. “And in return
for my generosity, you’re going to accept my offer to court Lily and ask for
her hand in marriage.”

“Never,” Devlin spat and took a step toward Richard as
if he considered throttling him. “I’ve got my own plans for her future and they
do not include you.”

Richard allowed his eyes to flash red, showing the
beast inside. Devlin took an immediate step back, his hands trembling.

“I suggest you reconsider, before I change my mind and
let Armand and Luc take you out back.” Richard pointed to the two men who were
all too eager to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Devlin’s gaze shot to the bodyguards standing off to
Josephine’s right. Their hard expressions pinned him in place. The man’s
demeanor faltered as he realized the truth in Richard’s words.

His face hardened. “What do you want from me?”

Richard’s jaw hurt so badly from clenching it, he
wouldn’t have been surprised to hear teeth crack. “You know what I want.”

“But why Lily? There are many available women in the
ton, many far younger.” Devlin’s voice sounded like a petulant child being
asked to share a toy.

“It is not your concern,” Richard bit out. “Just know
she will be well cared for. Now do I have your permission to court and then
offer for her?”

All but impotent to decline, Devlin’s limbs shook as he
fought his growing rage. “Yes, but Lily has to agree to the match, if she does
not, then you’ll leave us alone— never to return,” he growled in defeat.
Archibald found the nearest chair and sat, holding his head in his hands.

“You have my word.” He didn’t hesitate.

Devlin nodded.

“Good, then it’s settled.” Richard ground out. “The
other half of your debt will be paid once we’re married, if for any reason that
does not transpire the debt will revert back to you—all the debt. I’m sure Luc
and Armand will be happy to discuss the matter further, if need be.”

Archibald looked up and inclined his head. Richard
glanced at Josephine, who smiled widely.

“I was afraid I’d have to have Armand and Luc talk some
sense into the man. Luckily you saved me the trouble.” She put her hand on
Richard’s arm, his muscles tensed for a moment and then relaxed. “Can I get you
anything else?”

Damn it if Devlin hadn’t brought on his thirst for
blood. “An hour with Rose,” he eased out, hiding his fangs. “And then I’ll be
on my way, once I’ve settled half of Lord Devlin’s debts and drawn up a
contract for the rest.”

Josephine’s brow arched. “She must be quite a girl for
you to go to so much trouble and expense, ma chéri. I certainly hope she is
worth it.”

Richard slid her a glance and then smiled. “She is.”

Chapter Five

Far away from her dream state, Lily heard a light
rapping. What was that noise? She burrowed deep within the soft linens on her
bed, willing the disturbance to cease. Swaths of rich navy fabric curtained the
frame, keeping the rising sunlight at bay. Some mornings she woke with the
distinct impression that she’d slept in a cocoon. The sound increased in
volume, turning to pounding, as she pulled herself from the depths of slumber.
Lily blinked, her eyes felt as if a bag of sand had been dumped into them.

She’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling,
trying to figure out what had occurred between Lord Lyon and her father to make
her father hate him so. Everyone about the ton had heard the tale of Lord
William Longfellow. He’d gone from good standing to ruin after his business
dealings had turned sour. Rumor had it Lord Lyon was involved, but it had never
been proven. Surely, her father’s friendship with Lord Longfellow would have
survived such a fall, unless there was more to it than mere friendship.

Lily knew her father didn’t involve himself with
anything or anyone unless money exchanged hands. The thought brought a sinking
feeling to her stomach. Suddenly all was clear. Her father hated Richard
because he had lost money when Lord Longfellow was ruined.

She pictured the handsome Lord Lyon. Warmth spread
through Lily as she recalled the drugging allure of Richard’s illicit kiss.
Even now she could almost feel the pressure of his lips as they pressed
coaxingly against her own. The sound came again, this time louder. Lily started
to rise.

Her maid, Tildy, rushed in, shutting the door behind
her, before Lily could even beckon her in.

“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but your father wishes
to speak with you.” Tildy looked over her shoulder as a fist landed hard on the
wood, concern marring her brow. “Immediately,” she squeaked.

Lily threw the coverlet back and swung her feet to the
floor. The maid assisted with her toilet and then helped her dress in a fresh
muslin sprig. After securing her curls against the back of her head, Lily
crossed her room and opened the door. Her father stood in the hall, pale with
bloodshot eyes, reeking of brandy, staring at her with great sadness in his
blue depths.

“What has happened?” Lily rushed forward, taking her
father’s hands in her own.

Archibald let out a ragged breath, then dropped his
gaze.

“Father, please. Are you well?” Lily searched his face,
but could find no immediate malady, other than an over-abundance of spirits.

“No, no I’m not.” Archibald shook his head. “I tried,
just—no luck,” he whispered under his breath.

Lily frowned. “What are you sorry about?” She clutched
his hands, attempting to shake him out of his melancholy. “Father, I don’t
understand.”

“You will, my dear. Damn
Lyon
’s black
soul to hell,” he choked out.

“Father?”

“Remember, our future happiness and that of the entire
household rests on your shoulders. You are to do what’s expected to uphold the
family name, when
Lyon
calls. But remember you’re not to
fall for his wicked words, because you will not be marrying the rake. I’ve
already seen to your future.” With that he released her and turned away,
stumbling toward his apartments at the other end of the hall.

Lily felt ill. Her stomach twisted into a thousand tiny
knots. He’d seen to her future… what did that mean? Had the family’s finances
slipped to such a low point that she’d be forced to marry? Was Richard some
kind of creditor? Tildy helped her back into her sleep gown. Lily closed the
door to her room after seeing the maid out and returned to bed. Her head
pounded loud enough to mute all other sounds. She wasn’t sure what had happened
last night, but something had disturbed her father beyond reason. He was a
shattered shell of his former self—not that he’d been himself since her mother
had died, but this seemed far worse. And according to her father, it was all
Lord Lyon’s fault.

* * * * *

Morning faded to afternoon and still nothing untoward
had occurred. Sitting back against her feather pillows Lily recalled what her father
had said and began to question his warning, or at least that’s what she thought
it had been, considering how ominously he’d delivered the message.

But why warn her about Richard? She’d made it perfectly
clear she had no interest in Lord Lyon last night—at least not for more than a
few hours of distraction during galas. And her father had concurred heatedly.
Yet he seemed fixated on Lord Lyon and Lord Martins. Lily shuddered at the
thought of having Lord Martins’s clammy fingers upon her skin.

Lady Waverly’s ball was to be held this evening, but
Lily felt so out of sorts, that she decided to send her regrets in her stead.
Feigning illness would keep up the charade she’d decided on last night and give
the gossipmongers pause. Besides, she was in no mood to thwart unwanted
attention from the young bucks prancing about town.

And there was a very good chance she’d encounter Lord
Lyon, which would not do at all. That event would only worsen her father’s
present condition, not to mention her own. She knew in her heart she was not
entirely immune to Lord Lyon’s charm and that troubled her greatly. Lily was no
closer to the answers than she’d been at the start of the day.

Tildy entered her room carrying lunch and insisting
that she eat. Lily forced herself to take in some fresh meat and soup, then
pushed the food away in frustration. She sent the tray back to the kitchen,
deciding to start again anew on the morrow. Perhaps then her next move would be
clear.

* * * * *

Lily awoke with a start, at the quiet rap sounding on
her door. She took a ragged breath and glanced out the window. The last gasps
of light faded to a shade of muted gray. Her eyes strayed back to the door. She’d
obviously fallen asleep. The sound came again. Lily didn’t think she’d make it
through another one of her father’s tirades.

“Father, I fear, I’m unwell,” she called out to the
person on the other side of the door.

“My lady, ‘tis me, Tildy,” Lily’s maid whispered
against the wood. “May I enter?”

“Of course, Tildy, do come in.” Lily expected her maid
was here to help her with her evening ablutions.

The door opened and Tildy appeared, her uniform
impeccable and her flaxen- colored hair swept back in a severe bun.

“There is a gentleman downstairs, who says he’s here to
take you for a ride in his carriage.”

Lily glanced out the window. “But it’s almost dark.”

“I mentioned that to him, my lady. He seemed…
undeterred.” Tildy’s lips thinned.

Lily shifted uncomfortably. “Who is this gentleman?”
She knew without asking, but wanted her suspicions confirmed.

“He says his name is
Lyon
.”

Despite her efforts to control her reaction, Lily could
feel the blood rush to her face. The temperature in her room increased tenfold.
How could the mere mention of the man’s name wreak havoc on her sensibilities?
Her stomach did a flip-flop when she recalled the kiss.

“We’ve got to get him out of here, Tildy. Father cannot
see him. He’s already troubled by something. I fear seeing Lord Lyon will only
make it worse.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but the gentleman says
he’s not leaving until he speaks with you.” The maid bit her lip. “He was quite
insistent.”

Lily’s chest squeezed as panic set in. She had to
think. Where could she stuff
Lyon
without her father
finding him? She scrambled from her bed, helping Tildy dress her in the same
muslin sprig she’d put on this morning. Luckily she hadn’t taken down her hair.
Tildy quickly straightened it, with a few tugs on her tresses.

“Take Lord Lyon into the conservatory. I’ll be down in
a moment.”

“As you wish, my lady.” She bobbed and turned to walk
to the door.

“And Tildy… “

The maid stopped, her hand resting on the door handle. “Yes,
my lady.”

“Please hurry.”

Tildy nodded and slipped out the door. Lily stood in
the middle of her room, trying to calm her racing heart. Thoughts of the kiss
she’d shared with Richard raced through her mind, sending her senses aflutter.
She had to pull herself together. It wouldn’t do for a lady to appear
flustered, especially from the attentions of a rake. It was time to clear the
air.

A few moments and several deep breaths later Lily
descended the stairs. Her gaze darted, searching for her father. She prayed he’d
retired for the night, listening for any sound that could spell his impending
arrival.

Her slippers were silent as Lily made her way to the conservatory.
Tension ratcheted her spine, along with…
anticipation
.
She dismissed the latter as foolishness. But Lily could not reject the
throbbing of her breasts, the tightness of her nipples, and the inability to
catch her breath as she neared her destination.

Upon reaching the door, the smell of roses wafted,
perfuming the warm air. She entered quickly, closing the door behind her, but
didn’t immediately spot Richard. Lily wandered deeper into the room her eyes
wide, searching for any sign of movement.

Shadows danced along the glass, as the candlelight
flickered, illuminating very little other than her muted reflection. Lily
frowned, turning to circle back around to the other side of the room. She
slammed into what felt like a wall, knocking the air from her lungs.

Strong hands reached out to steady her. Despite the
coolness of his fingertips, she felt the heat from the touch through her
clothing, burning over her skin as if she’d been set aflame. Her gaze bulleted
to the ivory shirt before her, that draped over top of a very masculine chest.
Lily trembled as he released her and stepped back.

“W-what are you doing here?” she whispered.

In the dim lighting, she couldn’t quite make out his
features, so it was impossible to read his expression clearly.

An arrogant brow arched, impervious to the shadows. “Your
maid told me to wait in the conservatory.”

Her jaw clenched. “You know what I mean.”

A smile flitted across his mouth. “I’ve come to take
you for a turn about the park.”

“But it is late… and Father’s… not well. I cannot
possibly leave.”

Richard tugged at his cuffs. “I think you’ll find that
if you ask your father for his consent, he’ll be more than willing to give it.”
His voice held a hint of hardness, giving her the distinct impression his words
held a deeper meaning.

Lily swallowed. “I believe, my lord, you are mistaken.”
She could feel heat suffuse her cheeks.

“I have made no mistake.” Richard reached out and ran a
finger along her jaw line.

Her chest squeezed and her heart thudded against her
ribs. The air around them seemed to spark and crackle. Her attention riveted to
him, moreover, to his mouth. How could a touch cause such a reaction? Why did
this arrogant rakehell affect her so? This wasn’t her first season, she was no
mere fledgling. Yet here she stood completely flustered.