Chapter 11

11

L ily crept to the side of her upstairs drawing room and pressed her ear to the wall. Rutherford had interrupted her reading lesson over half an hour past to announce that the earl was in the little study next to the drawing room and wished to speak with Mister Barker-Finch. The two men had been in there ever since, and their voices had been raised more than once, though she could not make out what they were saying. A week had passed since she and Ari were attacked on the way back from the theatre. She and he both had hoped the earl had not heard of the…incident or if he had, that Mister Carrington-Bowles had smoothed over Framlingwood’s increasingly volatile reactions to the attacks on his mistresses.

In the last week she’d learned a great deal in regard to her reading. She’d also done her best to avoid any further discussions of Ari’s feelings for her. The ones he’d expressed the night of the attack after telling her of his guilt over the death of the boy, William, tormented her constantly. The depth of his growing attachment to her had not been something of the moment, declared in a flash of passion and gratitude for her words of care and compassion. No, he’d meant every word and used every opportunity to try and declare himself again.

Fortunately, she’d always been able to distract him with their insatiable lust for each other. And it was mere animal lust. It had to be. Her constant desire for him could not be anything else. Her need to be in his presence and her vast contentment merely sitting in her parlor and listening to him read to her was simply a result of her loneliness lately.

Of course, she gazed at his head bowed over a book and studied the sharp lines of his features and smiled fondly to herself. He was a handsome gentleman. He was an imaginative and generous lover. Any woman would smile. The idea of any other woman enjoying his company, however, brought a burning, sour sensation to her belly.

“You have far more worrisome matters to attend,” she muttered as she moved away from the wall and subsided into an accommodating chair. Lily pulled the latest crumpled piece of parchment from her pocket. Her entire body went cold. This was the third since the night of the attack in the garden. They were all small pieces of torn parchment placed so she alone was certain to find them. She could read them now, though that was of little matter. They all said the same thing.

I know who you are.

She’d considered them a joke or a mistake until she’d discovered Fanny Easterling was in London, treading the boards at the Theatre Royal every night. Now she was not certain of anything, except she needed to prepare herself to flee. The comfort and safety, the friends she’d made, the security the earl had afforded her—all faded to nearly nought when she considered making her escape meant leaving Ari behind forever. And she would. He meant too much to her for her to drag him into her past. He meant…too much…everything. To quote Slow Rutherford, “Bloody buggering hell!”

Titania danced across the carpet and leapt into Lily’s lap. In order to catch the mischievous kitten before she slid off her lap, she dropped the scrap of parchment. She heard male voices pass by the drawing room door. Shite! With the kitten clutched to her chest she dropped to the floor and scrambled under her chair to retrieve the damning note. She’d shown the three scraps of paper to no one, and she didn’t intend to start now.

“Lost something, love?” Ari was suddenly kneeling beside her.

“Here.” She shoved Titania into his arms, grabbed the note and shoved it into her bodice and backed out from under the chair. “She is being very naughty today.” Lily took the hand he offered and rose to pat her hair back into place.

“Titania?” he said more than asked. “Never. She is a perfect angel.” They walked back to the library table. “You, however, provoked some very naughty thoughts in me on your hands and knees with your lovely arse in the air.”

She gave him a shove. “I have an appointment with my modiste almost this very minute, and you needs must tell me what Derek had to say to you.”

“Nothing of import. He was understandably concerned about the aftermath of our theatre trip, but I assured him you were never really in danger.”

“And you two took nearly an hour to impart this information to each other?”

He settled into his chair where Titania settled in his lap for him to deliver the mandatory petting she considered her due. “We’re men, Lily. A certain portion of posturing and bluster is required for such a conversation. Not to worry. He is satisfied that all is well.”

She rolled her eyes, but studied his face carefully. He was hiding something. She knew him that well already. Unfortunately, he knew her too, and every time she interrupted his efforts to woo her with blatant erotic overtures he accepted with alacrity, but the look in his eyes told her he knew what she was about. And each time, he withdrew a little bit more. Which was, of course, her intention. Wasn’t it?

After a brief knock, Slow Rutherford stepped into the room. “The modiste is here, Miss Venable.”

Ari gave her his long-suffering smile, which always made her laugh, especially when he added an exaggerated sigh. “That is our cue, Miss Titania. Come long, little one. I shall see you at dinner?”

“Of course. Off with you now. I have the earl’s money to spend.”

He and Rutherford sidled out of the room past the half dozen assistants bearing every fabric and lace and ribbon imaginable as they entered and began to arrange their wares. London’s most exclusive and most expensive modiste swanned into the room and offered Lily an abbreviated bow.

“I have the most exquisite silks and satins to show you,” the woman announced in her cultured French accent.

“Yes, of course, madam. But I shall want some simple wool and merino dresses as well. Dresses meant for travel.” Lily drew the note from her bodice and tucked it into her pocket.

Ari started for the stairs up to the second floor. He had some messages to send and some arrangements to make. Framlingwood had not been a fount of information on the progress that had been made toward capturing the blackmailer. It was not in Ari’s nature to wait.

His realization of his feelings for Lily had not set his machinations in motion, but the fact he was in love with the passionate, stubborn, exasperating minx had added an urgency nigh on to panic to his plans. He had no idea if the attacks on Lily had to do with the mysterious blackmailer or the arrival of the actress from Edinburgh. Frankly, he didn’t give a fucking damn.

Whether she ever returned his love or not, Lily was his to protect, and by God, that is what he fully intended to do.

“Mister Barker-Finch?” Rutherford called. “You have an appointment, sir.”

Ari glanced down the stairs as the footman came up to join him on the second-floor landing. “I do?”

“Yes, sir.” He handed Ari a folded note on very expensive writing paper. Ari opened the missive and read the elegant script. Twice.

“What is this?” Titania scrambled up to perch on his shoulder.

“An invitation to tea, sir. With the mistresses. All of them. In Miss Fauchette’s parlor. Now. I’ll show you the way.”

Ari had seen Rutherford in many circumstances, but he allowed he’d never seen the footman quite so…afraid. He led Ari to the wall at the end of the corridor and touched a section of silk embossed wall covering. An inset door sprang open. There were mount lamps along the walls of a narrow passage. Titania rode on his shoulder as if this sort of place was nothing new. Apparently, all of the females on Grosvenor Street were singularly fearless.

“What the devil is all this, Rutherford?”

“Servants’ passages and staircases. All of these five houses are connected. That is how Mrs. Collins manages to run things so efficiently and keep his lordship in the dark about some of the goings on here.” The footman looked over his shoulder at Ari and gave him a meaningful glare. “Here we are, sir. Good luck.” He stopped at another inset door.

“Good luck? Why would I need good luck to talk to an assembly of mistresses.”

“Luck?” The footman snorted. “Do you have a suit of armor handy?”

“Of course not.”

“Pity, that.” Rutherford touched the inset spot and pushed the door open. “You’re bloody well going to need one.”

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Mister Barker-Finch’s deep voice shot through the mistresses’ tea gathering like a cannon shot across the bow of one of His Majesty’s ships.

Mrs. Collins noted, however, the barrister offered them a perfectly executed bow, at least as perfectly executed as a man might sporting a kitten on his shoulder.

Margot pointed him toward a chair in the middle of the room.

He had to walk past Adrienne and Sophia in chairs to one side, and Gabrielle and Cassandra herself on the other side. Margot took the chair next to Gabrielle.

The poor man bore their scrutiny with good grace, but Cassandra had dealt with men like him—wealthy, educated, and born of privilege all her life. He was completely at sea as to what this was all about which was good for the purposes of Lily’s friends and fellow mistresses. Cassandra felt she’d been invited merely to make certain there was no bloodshed.

She put herself to work pouring tea for everyone and passed the cups around one by one. Mister Barker-Finch took his, but did not drink. Likely, he suspected poison as all men did when a group of women sought to put them at a disadvantage.

“As delightful as I find your company, and as much as I must confess myself in deepest admiration of Lord Framlingwood’s inestimable taste in female companions,” he stated, “exactly what can I possibly do for you ladies?”

“You can tell us what your intentions are toward our Lily.” Trust Margot to return the first shot.

Cassandra shook her head. This was not going to go well for Lily’s reading tutor.

“I believe that information is for Miss Venable’s ear alone. She, like all of you, is mistress of the Earl of Framlingwood. By all rights, I am allowed no intentions toward her at all.” Titania slid down his arm and perched on his knee to begin drinking tea from his cup.

“Cut line,” Adrienne said. “Margot and Saida have been listening to you express those intentions every night for weeks now.”

“My compliments on your stamina, sir,” Saida murmured with a wicked half-smile. Gabrielle giggled and quickly covered her mouth.

Mister Barker-Finch blushed a nearly crimson red and coughed as if choking. Adrienne reached over and slapped him heartily on the back. He juggled the teacup, but did not drop it, and a good thing too as Titania was most insulted by the bit of tea that sloshed onto her fur.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Does Framlingwood have any idea the nest of Boudica’s he’s landed himself in with you ladies?”

“I assure you,” Cassandra said. “His lordship is fully aware of the worth of each of these ladies. I believe they wish to know if you are aware of Miss Venable’s worth.”

“Mrs. Collins.” He cleared his throat and placed the kitten and the teacup on the floor next to his chair. “My admiration for Lily is without bounds. She is as brilliant, as fierce, as capable, and as stubborn as any woman I have ever met. Her kindness and courage are unmatched. Beyond that, my feelings for her are for her alone to hear before I voice them to anyone else.” He leveled them each with a brief but determined stare.

“That’s all well and good, sir,” Sophia said. “But what are your intentions ? The current situation is most dire for her and for Margot. The rest of us are married and have husbands to care for us. Fortunately, our husbands know the extent of the forces working against us. Lily and Margot have been told only half truths, and frankly, I’m not certain even the earl knows everything. What are you willing to do to ensure Lily’s safety, no matter what the future brings?”

The ladies all turned their entire attention to him. Cassandra almost felt sorry for the barrister, but she suspected her sympathy was wasted on a man of his character.

“I would die for her,” he said, his tone absent even the slightest hint of hesitation. “I will, if necessary. What are you ladies willing to do?”

“Us?” Gabrielle asked. “What do you mean?”

“You say none of you knows precisely what concerns the earl about your safety, about her safety. Is that true? Or are you holding your own secrets as life perhaps has taught you to do?” He rose to his full height and bowed again. “If you know something that will help me keep her safe, I suggest you share it with me, if you will not share it with Framlingwood.”

As Cassandra expected, not a one of them said a word.

“Very well.” He scooped up the kitten. “Titania and I thank you for the tea and for the conversation. Good day.” He strode to the inset door and in a blink of a moment was gone.

“Well!” Margot crossed her arms and slumped into her chair. “That was bloody pointless.”

“Indeed,” Gabrielle agreed. “He is handsome, but a bit of an arse.”

“Arse or not,” Adrienne said, as she retrieved a plate of tarts and macarons from the table behind her chair, “he is in love with our Lily.”

“Bollocks,” Margot said, passing the plate to Gabrielle and then across to Sophia.

“I’d say he’s very much in love,” Saida said, whilst Sophia, her mouth full of macaron, nodded in agreement.

“I would have to concur,” Cassandra said. “the important question is, is Lily in love with him?”