Twice Fallen (29 page)

I

No signature either. A rather strange message, but very well, she was by herself in her sitting room at the moment.

Lily turned it over. A plain leather-bound volume, somewhat tattered, embossed in gold letters. The title of the work was
Lady Rothburg’s Advice
. She opened it, saw it had been originally printed in 1802, and frowned, not recognizing the author’s name.

Her birthday was months away—good heavens, she would be twenty-three—and there was no other occasion she could think of for someone to send her something. Idly she flipped it open to a random page.

A male’s naked body is quite different from ours and you must understand the dynamics of his anatomy. Just imagining, or better yet, seeing, a naked female can cause the blood to rush to his lower regions, making his cock swell, readying him for the sexual act. We are much more delicate and complicated, but no finesse is usually needed with a male
partner. Bare your breasts first. I promise you it will inflame him.

Shock held her immobile for a moment. What the devil? Why would anyone think she wished to read such a book?

Yet, actually, she did. Lily flipped a few more pages, her face warm but her curiosity piqued.

When taking him in your mouth remember that while the crest of his cock is sensitive, you will always gain his appreciation if you also fondle his ballocks. The dual pleasure of your mouth and the touch of your fingers will unman him, I vow it
.
Beware of that telling groan, though, I warn you, for his control will be sorely tested
.

She jumped when someone knocked on the door, snapping the book shut, her cheeks flushed from the small amount she’d just read. Thanks to the other night with Damien she was not an innocent any longer, but she certainly had never seen words like that written down… at least not in such outrageous context.

Who would have sent it
?

Whoever was at the door knocked again very briskly and Lily leaned over and picked up a handy cushion, shoving the book underneath. “Come in.”

The duchess breezed into the room. “At my invitation, Lord Damien will be joining us for dinner. What will you wear?”

A bit off balance from her unusual delivery, Lily stammered, “I… I hadn’t given it much thought yet.”

“I’ve sent word to Augustine to expect a visit soon from Rolthven’s younger brother.… Ah, it is all progressing nicely.” The duchess, to her dismay, sat down on the same settee and took her hand in a rare gesture of warmth, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

And her regal bottom was nestled right against the pillow hiding the scandalous book.

Were it not so horrifying it would have been immensely humorous. Lily murmured hastily, “Perhaps you should select my gown, Your Grace. After all, you have worked rather hard to make me acceptable enough to draw the attention of such a fine gentleman that I would hate to make a poor wardrobe choice at this crucial point.”

Unfortunately, it was extremely difficult to fool the Dowager Duchess of Eddington. Lily should have not uttered the humble, uncharacteristic speech at all, but a combination of her recent fall from grace in Damien’s bed and the outrageous arrival of the book had her decidedly flustered.

The older woman let go of her hand and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Truth be told, I don’t know that I did so much, come to think of it. Dragged you off to a few entertainments that you usually escaped from at some point, introduced you to some men you neither liked nor gave much notice to, and in general bedeviled your life a bit. But Lord Damien was your conquest alone, wasn’t he? I don’t even recall when you were introduced.”

“We met by chance.” Lily reminded herself it wasn’t a lie, recalling that evening in the library. “Um… Lady Piedmont introduced us.”

Well, that was fairly accurate, if she counted the lady chasing Damien into the library as an acceptable initial form of acquaintance.

Somehow she doubted the duchess would think so.

The next cool statement supported that assumption. “Lady Piedmont is a dubious source for fashionable contacts. I won’t say more.”

She didn’t need to. Lily had seen firsthand why the duchess disapproved, though she could hardly mention it. “She does seem to be a bit sophisticated, Your Grace.”

“Is
that
what you wish to call it?” The duchess still looked at her with shrewd pale blue eyes. “Rolthven’s brother is not particularly the social kind. But then again, he does have that horrid limp from the war. I suppose he is conscious of it.”

“It isn’t horrid.”

“No?” The duchess smiled smugly as if she’d just had a question answered. “I see.”

He’d managed nicely to carry her up the stairs, so Lily wasn’t too concerned about his crippled leg. Besides, though Damien recognized the impairment, she doubted that he gave a second thought to what others might think of it.

She
was
concerned—and intensely curious—about the book currently hidden in the settee, but her biggest problem was getting the dowager out of there before she happened to notice she was almost sitting on it.

“I was thinking of the green silk,” she said, rising. “Unless you have a better suggestion.”

“Green? Not tonight. I am thinking the periwinkle
blue that brings out your eyes. He hasn’t made a formal offer yet, child.”

True, but he had effectively declared his intentions in the most pleasurable way possible.

Lily was partial to the periwinkle herself and had only mentioned the green as a diversion—and thankfully the duchess never noticed the corner of the book sticking out from under the pillow. Not sure if she should be mortified or amused, when the duchess departed, Lily retrieved it and hid it safely underneath several neatly folded chemises in her armoire.

As intriguing as it was, she’d have to look at it later. For now, the duchess had a valid point. If Damien was going to be their guest this evening, she wanted it to be a memorable occasion.

She wore blue.

Her attire was actually very distracting. Damien remembered very little about the food and wine, but hopefully his preoccupation didn’t show.

The dominating duchess did not bother him—his own grandmother was a perfect example of the type, so it wasn’t like he didn’t have experience—but Lily truly did look dazzling dressed in a gown that had some sort of interesting drapery of lace across the bodice and flattered her in every way—as if she needed adornment.

Not given to poetic tendencies—his life hadn’t been conducive to literary pursuits except those of the more deadly kind—he still thought he could compare her eyes to the exact color of a cloudless summer sky.

Maybe he’d dabble in poetry for her sake someday,
though if he composed a sonnet it would undoubtedly be an insult to the English language. For now he simply wanted to solve Charles’s mystery and then get on with his own life.

Funny, that. He’d never felt that way about a mission before. Unfortunately, it was proving to be a bit tricky. In a philosophical sense, he preferred war. The motivations were entirely understandable, whereas in this case, he didn’t quite grasp why someone was killing young men whose greatest crime might be to gamble too much or have an illicit dalliance they preferred kept quiet.

It was the least romantic topic in the world, but maybe if he talked to Lily it would help, given her involvement with Sebring.

“Jonathan has to come over to sign some papers in the next week. You can speak with him about Lily then.”

Jolted out of his abstraction, Damien glanced up at James Bourne, the ladies having excused themselves from the table to allow the two of them to enjoy their port. “Thank you for the information,” he said neutrally. “I am willing to travel to Essex, but if it isn’t necessary, it would be convenient to stay in London.”

“You
are
serious, then?” His companion sat back, idly fingering his glass, his gaze direct. Bourne was tall, blond, blue-eyed, and there was a strong family resemblance. What’s more, Lily had mentioned that she and her cousin were friends, not necessarily a typical relationship among the beau monde, related or not. Men and women usually had quite different interests.

Damien raised his brows. “About marrying Lily? Of course.”

“I’m a little surprised, I admit, Northfield.”

“So am I,” Damien admitted with rueful honesty.

“I see.” Bourne’s regard was steady. “Lily told me about the library and your inventive escape.”

Facing a male relative who could very well be entitled to some outrage, Damien was a bit cautious. Civilized dining rooms did not preclude confrontation. His intentions aside, he hadn’t been entirely honorable by bedding her before their vows were said.

Not that he would change a single moment of that evening.

“She seemed particularly disinclined to summon help, and inventive—as you put it—appeared to be the best course. Not all libraries are equipped with hidden passages, but as luck would have it, this one was.” Damien assumed a bland expression. “I didn’t know about the scandal with Sebring at that time.”

“Yet when a lovely damsel needed rescue, you gallantly stepped into the breach.”

“Is that what she said?”

James shook his head. “Actually, she must trust you a great deal to have attempted it. Lily is hardly a timid female, but I know from childhood experiences that she does not like dark, closed spaces.”

“No, she isn’t a timid female,” Damien rejoined with a hint of wry amusement, remembering the night he’d had her kidnapped. “Is it part of the attraction, do you think?”

“That is possible.” James sipped his port, looking thoughtful. The windows were open and a night bird called somewhere, the sound melodic. “She’s always been very self-sufficient. Even during the traumatic aftermath of her problems with Arthur Kerr, she didn’t go
into hysterics or even defend her actions. To this day she still doesn’t. I assume the two of you have discussed it.”

“We have. And we’ve established that our relationship is nothing like the one she had with him.”

Bourne nodded. “No one thinks so.”

It occurred then to Damien that her cousin
knew
. It was in the diffident way he studied his drink, and not so surprising, considering Lily was close to him. The man across the table definitely knew about Arthur’s secret. Because of the nature of gossip in general, Damien hadn’t really explored the possibility of talking to his aristocratic acquaintances since if he asked pointed questions, Arthur’s secret would not be a secret much longer. Oh, he could trust his brothers, but Colton simply was too busy and absorbed in his duties as duke to pay attention to sordid gossip, and Robert was also preoccupied with his wife and family.

For Lily’s sake, her cousin would not repeat their conversation. Perhaps James Bourne could help him. After a moment of consideration, Damien asked, “First of all, how do you know about Sebring, and can you think of anyone in your circle of acquaintances who would threaten to expose him?”

“Know about him?” Bourne’s brows went up in question.

“His penchant for the same sex.” If Lily trusted this man so much, he would too. “How did you discover it? I knew Arthur fairly well when we were at Cambridge and I never suspected.”

Bourne looked away as if he suddenly found a Renaissance painting of the Madonna and child on the opposite wall fascinating. But then he admitted reluctantly,
“I found out by accident. I’ve never told Lily, and please don’t reveal to her I have any idea. She went through enough as it stands, though I must admit it was enlightening to realize why her elopement was such a disaster.”

There were accidents and then there was intentional misfortune. Mistakes happened, yes, but accidents were few and far between. Leaking a story like this about a titled lord sounded more like malice than anything else.

“You have my word I won’t tell her you know.”

James nodded briefly, his expression resigned. “A mutual friend told me. Sebring’s marriage has been less than perfect from the beginning, which isn’t necessarily unique in our circles, but Arthur is particularly unhappy in his. It isn’t a secret, though most people do not suspect why he and his wife are at odds.”

There was a moment when enlightenment dawned in elusive flashes. As Damien had so little to connect the blackmailer to the murders except Kinkannon, and knew the real villain had undoubtedly been the one to approach Arthur, here was a third party privy to at least one secret.

“What friend?”

James Bourne definitely caught his sharpened interest. “You are extremely curious, Northfield. If this is because of Lily and Sebring’s history, that is long over. There’s no need to take offense now.”

“I’m not. Give me his name and I promise to later explain.”

“Thomas Fairfield.” James hesitated and then said somberly, “I’m sorry to say he died unexpectedly a few months ago of some sort of stomach ailment.”

So he had. He was on the list of the suspicious deaths.

Ah, at last a viable link.

A

The duchess allowed them an unsupervised stroll in the garden.

It was ironic, but Damien wasn’t nearly as interested in the romantic aspect as she was. As far as she could tell, he didn’t want to kiss her, or finally propose, or do anything remotely romantic.

Lily found her lover wished to simply talk. Not that she minded his interest in her life, but she’d been out of society for a while and the questions he was asking did not actually make a lot of sense to her.

Surely a moonlit evening could be put to better use?

“Arthur Kerr. Thomas Fairfield. The Earl of Haversham’s youngest son. Henry Lawson.”

More than a little bewildered, Lily walked next to him, wishing Damien would at least endeavor to hold her hand. “Yes?”