Three Nights with a Scoundrel: A Novel (8 page)

All the fears she’d battled in those predawn hours came rushing back, assailing her with double force. This time, she let herself feel them, surrendering to the comfort of her friend’s embrace as the tears fell.

Once she’d mastered her emotion, Lily said, “For a moment, I was so certain he was dead. Just like Leo.”

Amelia pulled back. Her own eyes were moist with sympathy as she offered a handkerchief. “You poor dear. Is he well now? Mr. Bellamy, I mean.”

“Yes.” Lily wiped her eyes with the square of linen. “It was only a small injury, sustained when the crowd panicked at a boxing match. He won’t stop attending the things, you know. Wherever there’s fighting—man or beast—he goes there, hoping to find Leo’s killers. But I fear he’s just going to get himself killed. It’s been five months now. I don’t understand why he can’t let it go.”

“He feels responsible. That’s what he told us that night. He was supposed to be with Leo, and he thinks he could have prevented the murder if he’d been there.”

Lily sniffed. “Does he think he has some exclusive claim on regret? Doesn’t he realize I’ve felt the same guilt, every day since Leo died? If only I’d asked him to stay home, I tell myself. If only I’d insisted he take the family carriage instead of a hack. If only
I’d
been with him that night. Never mind that I’m a woman and a slightly built one at that. If I’d been in that alleyway with Leo, I would have fought those men with everything I had. Strength, fury, nails, teeth. I would have done anything in my power to save my brother’s life, even if it meant giving my own.”

A little sob escaped her, and Amelia clasped her wrist.

“And now,” Lily went on, “it’s like I’m watching Julian wander into that same alleyway that claimed Leo’s life. The only difference is, it’s all happening at a slower pace. I’m forced to watch from a distance, standing helplessly by as each step brings him closer and closer to danger. No matter how I call out to him, he doesn’t respond. Then this morning …”

Then this morning had changed everything. She’d held his senseless body in his arms, felt his blood on her fingertips. Atop it all, that desperate kiss … It made the danger so real. She refused to stand by and watch Julian stumble toward his own doom. This time, she would fight.

In her lap, her hands curled into fists. “Before Leo died, Julian lived to amuse and be amused. He loved balls, the theater, his friends, and his clubs. Somehow I have to force him back into that world, so he’ll remember what he’s been missing. Since the dinner party won’t work tonight—”

“Wait,” Amelia said, her chin firming. “The dinner party will work. We’ll make it work.”

“Truly?” Her heart leapt. “But what about the duke? What about Claudia?”

“Leave everything to me. Claudia will remain upstairs. Though I warn you, the menu will be simple, and I can’t promise Spencer will be the most gracious of hosts.”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s probably for the best if he and Julian stay in separate rooms, anyhow.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

“It’s my pleasure, truly. I love to give parties but have little opportunity. What about other guests? Is there anyone you’d like me to invite?”

Lily paused. “I know this may be difficult at such short notice,” she said, “but do you by any chance know where we might find a sizable group of eligible bachelors?”

“What’s this?” Amelia broke into laughter. “You do realize you’re talking to a woman who was, as recently as five months ago, a confirmed spinster with no suitors at all?”

“It’s just that I promised Julian. If he would be my escort to social events, I told him I’d consider marrying. I have no real intention of marrying at all, and no desire to inspire the hopes or attentions of gentlemen I actually … Oh, this is sounding horrible, isn’t it?”

“Rather.” Amelia’s eyes widened with amusement. “Let me be certain I understand. You’d like me to find some warm male bodies to fill chairs at the dinner table. All of these men must be presentable and feasibly marriageable, yet hungry or lonely enough to show up for dinner on a few hours’ notice?”

“Well …” Lily shrugged. “Yes?”

Amelia smiled as she patted Lily’s shoulder. “My dear, it just so happens, today you are in luck.”

Chapter Five

Blue was the color of the evening.

As she surveyed the Morland drawing room, Lily noted that each person present was wearing that color, in one shade or another. Her own simple gown was fashioned of indigo silk, a dark shade suitable for mourning. Amelia wore a lovely periwinkle satin. The glimmering hue did wonderful things for her eyes. From where he stood beside his wife, lightly touching her waist, the duke’s impeccable tailcoat looked black. But up close, Lily would have guessed it to be a very deep blue.

And then, rounding out the party, there were five officers of the Royal Navy, each attired in formal uniform. Everywhere she turned, gold braiding and buttons caught the candlelight, sparkling like stars against a navy blue sky.

Unfortunately, the scene was lacking one particular shade of blue—the intense cobalt hue of Julian’s eyes. They’d delayed dinner half an hour already, and still he hadn’t appeared. Lily oscillated between fear for his health and a desire to cause him personal injury. How could he abandon her like this? Didn’t he understand what a challenge this night would be for her? She hadn’t attended a dinner party with strangers present in months. And never without Leo. All around her, discussion bloomed, branched, wilted and died, germinated entirely new topics of debate. She was lost in the thick jungle of conversation. From the apologetic looks Amelia kept sending her, Lily knew her friend would have liked to be more help. Unfortunately, her duties as hostess kept claiming her attention.

Lily was on her own.

Well, wasn’t this exactly what she kept insisting to Julian she could handle? And handle it she would.

Squaring her shoulders and readying a polite smile, Lily sought out a familiar face. The fair-haired officer standing by the window was Michael d’Orsay, one of Amelia’s five brothers. Lily had known him as a cowlicked boy in Gloucestershire, and now he was Lieutenant-Commander d’Orsay.

“It’s so lovely to see you again,” she said. “What great fortune that your ship has just returned. And how good of you to bring your friends.” How resourceful of Amelia to invite them, she added to herself. What better place to find a group of clean-shaven, respectable, eligible men desperate for a dinner invitation, than naval officers just returned from six months at sea?

“It’s good to see you, too.” His expression went grave. “I was so sorry to hear the news of Leo.”

“Thank you. I know you can understand the pain of losing a brother.” Hugh d’Orsay had been killed at Waterloo.

“Yes. But Leo’s death … so unexpected. Tragic.” Sadness etched his face, making him look far older than his eight-and-twenty years. Of all the d’Orsay brothers, she and Leo had been closest to Michael, since they all three were of an age. He and Leo had gone off to Eton together.

She didn’t want to ignore Michael’s feelings, but she couldn’t bear to talk about Leo right now. As rarely as she went out in society, this happened too often for her comfort. Whenever Lily began to feel that her own wounds had scabbed over, along would come an acquaintance for whom Leo’s death was a new development. And that person would want to talk of him and mourn him—as was only natural, for her brother had been loved by many—but once again Lily would feel ripped apart. She couldn’t cope with that tonight, not atop everything else.

She looked around the room, casting about for diversion. And she found it. All thoughts were promptly driven from her head by a flirtatious smile. The smile belonged to a tall, well-formed officer plastered with insignia and gold braid. He was not an especially handsome man, but neither was he ill-favored. He had intelligent, playful eyes.

And he was headed straight for her.

Nerves danced in the crooks of her elbows. To Michael, she whispered, “Did you tell your friends about my impairment?”

He shook his head in apology. “Should I have? I wasn’t certain if …”

Before she could answer, the officer had joined them.

“Come, d’Orsay,” he said, eyeing Lily. “I can see you mean to keep this enchanting lady to yourself all night. I shall have to pull rank and command an introduction.”

Lily kept her eyes glued to Michael’s mouth. Names were especially hard to catch, as they came without context.

“Lady Lily Chatwick, may I introduce my superior officer, Commander …”

Oh, drat. She missed it. Was it Merriman? Or perhaps Barryman? Lily’s eyes flickered over the man’s attire as he bowed. Maybe his name was engraved on a buckle or his scabbard. But then, wouldn’t it seem worse to be caught boldly ogling a man’s person than to simply have missed the name?

She offered her hand. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Commander.” She had that, at least. Thank heaven for military ranks.

And thank heaven for Amelia, who came to her rescue moments later, when she and the duke approached the group.

Amelia touched Lily’s arm, drawing her aside. “I’m not certain I can delay dinner much longer. Shall we continue to wait for Mr. Bellamy?”

“No.” Lily sighed with disappointment. “Don’t delay.”

The Duke of Morland’s mien was, as usual, censorious. “I loathe that man,” he said, just before tipping a glass of whiskey.

Lily felt horrible. She knew the duke hated parties, and here she’d forced him to host one on ridiculously short notice. And now the guest of honor—or rather, dishonor—had not even bothered to show his face.

Amelia called for her guests’ attention, inviting them into dinner. Suddenly the commander was at Lily’s side, offering his arm along with a quick salvo of words that soared straight past her. She merely smiled and nodded by way of response, sending up a fervent prayer he hadn’t just confided he had a wasting illness, or remarked on the culinary skill of cannibals in Lesser God-Knows-Where.

They filed into the dining room, and Amelia indicated the place for each guest. The duke, of course, took the head of the table, and Amelia sat at his left hand, with Michael at his sister’s other side. On the duke’s right, the commander took the place of honor. Lily sat at his right, directly across from Michael.

Amelia said, “Six gentlemen and only two ladies … what an unbalanced group. A poor reflection on me as a hostess, I’m afraid.”

Michael replied, “Certainly a more favorable ratio than we’re accustomed to having at sea.”

To Lily’s left, the commander said something in reply. However, she turned her head too late. Once again, she missed his words entirely.

Michael noted her puzzlement and explained, “The good commander says you and my sister are uncommonly lovely. So lovely, you’re each worth three of other ladies, and therefore the balance is exact.”

Lily smiled. “Only until Mr. Bellamy arrives.”

If
Mr. Bellamy arrived. She slid a glance toward the empty chair at her right. His absence was upsetting her own balance, greatly. She stared at the vacant seat with angry desperation, as though Julian might materialize on the striped damask if only she willed it fiercely enough. He’d promised to come. He’d given his word.

Looking beyond his empty chair, she flashed a halfhearted smile at the three young lieutenants holding down the far end of the table. They immediately ceased casting doleful looks at their empty plates and grinned in return. So young, so hungry. If any of them were older than twenty, Lily would be astounded. When she’d been introduced to them earlier, they’d practically tumbled over one another to take her hand. Now she gave them a polite nod of greeting, and they all replied at once, speaking and laughing amongst themselves.

Hopeless.

Beneath the table, she balled her hands in frustration. This never happened to her with Julian. He was much easier to lip-read than most people, simply because he was so expressive. She didn’t catch his every word, but she could always gather his meaning. He seemed to intuit how to make it easier. He rarely forgot to face her when they conversed, never spoke too quickly or in confusing circles, repeated himself before she even had to ask.

But then, Julian did have one advantage over these men. He knew she was deaf.

She acted on the decision swiftly, before she could reconsider. Placing her hands on the table, she rose to her feet. The men looked to one another, then began to push back their own chairs and stand, in accordance with etiquette.

“No, please.” Lily motioned for them to stay seated. “I have something to say, and it will only take a moment.” She resisted the urge to put a hand to her throat, hoping those years of work with speech tutors would serve her well. “My old friends know this, but just so my new friends are equally aware … I lost my hearing several years ago, while stricken with fever. I’m deaf.”

The mood of the guests altered instantly. In the space of a moment, they’d gone from casually admiring her to examining her with keen curiosity. Rather like garden show attendees who’d moved on from a pleasing clump of pink tea roses to an exhibit of carnivorous spotwort from the Amazon. All around the table, heads tilted and jaws went slack.