Chapter 12

12

A ri fairly stumbled down to the ground floor and made his way to the breakfast room in search of some peace and quiet, both from within and without the cacophony in his head. He wasn’t absolutely certain of his intentions himself, and Framlingwood’s women wanted to know? He was more in a quandary as to Lily’s intentions.

She’d run from Edinburgh. She’d run again if he couldn’t keep her safe from the earl’s blackmailer and God only knew who else. Even then she might not love him. Oh, she loved the nights they spent together. Of that he had no doubt. But he had no delusions when it came to women. Only a truly arrogant man believed if a woman fucked him, she must love him. Otherwise, what could she possibly receive from a good fuck?

What could she receive? The same thing as a man, pleasure. Any man who chose not to believe so was a damned fool. Ari was no fool. He was a man in love. Possibly with a woman who was only using him for his cock and his skill as a lover. Ari wasn’t arrogant as he lay replete in her arms and listened to her sleep. He was terrified. He dropped into a chair at the small breakfast table and deposited Titania on the fat, tufted ottoman before the fire.

Rutherford stuck his head in the door. “I see you survived. Hiding out for a bit?”

“Too damned right I am. I assume the earl has never had tea with all of his mistresses at once?”

“Not a chance,” Rutherford replied.

“It they ever invite him to do so, I suggest you tell him to run. Fast and far. Those women make the Spanish Inquisition look like a Venetian breakfast. You should have warned me.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Should have told me to run. Bring me some coffee and some of those gooseberry tarts we had for luncheon, unless you or your brothers have devoured them all.”

“I might be able to scare up one or two. There’s someone here to see you. Has the look of a Bow Street man.”

Ari’s heart raced for several beats. “Did he give a name?”

“Archer Colwyn.”

Ari sighed with relief. “Send him in and bring a second cup for the coffee.”

Rutherford touched two fingers to his brow and withdrew. Booted footsteps on the marble floor of the corridor announced Colwyn’s arrival. Dressed in the severe black of a Bow Street runner, his expression grim, he walked into the room and placed a stack of papers in front of Ari.

“What is this?” Ari asked, as he began to peruse the pages.

“This is a copy of the information our blackmailer discovered about Miss Venable.” Col sat down across from him. “And by the way, her name is not Lily Venable. It’s—”

“Lillian Sanderson,” Ari said. “Or at least that was her name in Edinburgh ten years ago.”

Archer Colwyn appeared stunned. Ari suspected that didn’t happen to this man often. “I see,” he finally said. “Are you aware she is wanted for—”

“Murder and jewelry theft.” Ari pushed the papers back across the table. He pressed his fingers into the oak surface of the table until they turned white. “Have you shown this to anyone else?”

“Not yet.” He leaned forward across the table and gathered the papers. “Soon, I will have no choice. There are rumblings at Bow Street that the actress from whom she stole, whose husband she murdered, is here in London and intends to report Miss Venable, or Miss Sanderson, to the magistrates. These attacks on you two may be from our blackmailer who knows all of this or from someone working for the actress. Either way, the situation is dangerous, Barker-Finch, for both of you. I cannot withhold this information from Framlingwood or from Bow Street.”

“Give me some time, a few days at most. I have someone here in London who is looking into the actress. He knew her and Lily in Edinburgh. He just returned from Bath the day before yesterday. Give him some time to find a way to exonerate Lily.”

“How long have you known all of this? For God’s sake, you might have told me. You’ve bolloxed this up good and proper, my friend.” Colwyn drummed his fingers on the table and shook his head.

“I had my reasons,” Ari said, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of his neck. He and Colwyn had been friends a long time, but he knew better than anyone when one was an officer of the court, reputation was everything.

“The reason between your legs seldom takes precedence over the reason between your ears. Dammit.” He shoved to his feet and tucked the papers into his inside jacket pocket. “You have two days. Send word to me, and whilst you’re at it, discover a way to drag us both out of this soup before we drown in it.”

“You have my thanks, Colwyn. Truly.”

“Bugger your thanks. Find some evidence I can use.” He passed Rutherford in the doorway. The footman placed a tray with a silver coffee pot and two cups onto the table. As the door was open, Ari heard Colwyn reach the foyer, but then his footsteps stopped. He spoke to someone, and that person replied in muffled tones, but Ari feared he knew who the second person was. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Rutherford went to the commode in the corner and reached inside to fetch a bottle of brandy.

“You’re going to need this, sir.” He placed the bottle and a glass in front of where Ari sat. “I’m sorry, sir. I truly am.” He bowed respectfully and quit the room on quick, quiet feet.

Ari’s stomach lurched. He would know her step anywhere, especially when she was angry. He glanced around the breakfast room. There was a bright and airy landscape hanging on the wall across from where he sat. Next to the painting was a nearly invisible line in the butter-colored wall covering—another inset door. The downstairs drawing room was on the other side. He and Lily had laughed when she covered one of the paintings in his chamber because there was a strategically placed hole in it that would allow someone to watch them in bed. He wasn’t laughing now. She’d seen and heard his and Colwyn’s entire conversation.

The door slammed against the wall as she stormed in, Colwyn’s papers clutched in her hand. “How long, you lying bloody arse? How long have you known? Don’t get up. Sit down! I don’t want you looming over me. Sit down and answer my fucking questions.”

“I’m sorry, Lily.” His apology sounded weak even to his own ears, but he was not concentrating on his words. His entire being was engulfed in studying her—the pink-tinged porcelain of her skin, the fire flashing in her eyes, her glorious hair glinting red and gold in the lamplight. She was magnificent even in her fury, and he wanted to remember her thus even as the realization this was the end began to seep into his bones. “I only ever wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me? From what? From you? A deceiving failed drunkard of a barrister who took on the job of teaching an earl’s whore to read out of pity and guilt?”

“It wasn’t like that, Lily. It was never like that. Not for me. I’ve been half in love with you since I saw you onstage the first time in Edinburgh. When I arrived and realized who you were, I had forgotten about the scandal. I only remembered the details recently. I sent for—”

“I don’t care if you’ve sent for Wellington himself.” She rounded the table and tossed the papers at him. He pushed them to the floor and got to his feet. “I want you out of this house, my house, before your Bow Street comes back to arrest me.”

“I will never allow him to do that. Nor will Framlingwood. You are safe here, Lily. We’ll sort this out, I promise you. Believe me, I only—”

Crack!

She slapped him so hard his head snapped back and he saw stars. When his vision cleared, he saw the tears shimmering on her eyelashes.

“Lily, please.” He grasped her hands. “I love you. I will never allow anyone to hurt you ever again.”

“More’s the pity,” she replied and snatched her hands free. “For I never loved you, you fool. You have been nothing to me but a tutor and a hard cock at the ready, Mister Barker-Finch. Nothing more.”

“You’re lying.” Ari’s heart sank. Her eyes were flat and cold. In all their time together he’d never seen her like this. Once again, his arrogance had cost him everything. Everything that mattered.

“No, Mister Barker-Finch, that is your provenance, I suspect. There is a reason you became a barrister. I expect you out of my house as quickly as possible.”

“Framlingwood may have something to say about your safety, Lily.”

“The earl will have nothing to say about my life from now on. I am ending my liaison with him and leaving London. I never wish to see either of you ever again.” She stood there, chest heaving, blinking desperately at the tears in her eyes, her delicate fists clinched tightly.

“I beg you, Lily.” He took a step toward her, half expecting her to step back, but she didn’t. His magnificent Lily stood her ground. “Allow me to stay until I’m certain you’re safe, from whoever is behind these attacks, and from Mrs. Easterling.”

“Safe? Safe, Ari? I thought I was safe with you. I know now I will never be safe again. Leave. Or I shall have the Rutherfords throw you out.” She picked up Titania, gave him a look that sliced him deeper than any blade and left the room.

Ari collapsed into the chair and stared at the bottle of brandy. He poured himself a glass, downed the burning amber drink in one long drought and poured himself another. There was a bell pull on the wall next to his chair. With a pull hard enough to nearly rend the damned thing from its moorings he summoned Slow Rutherford.

“I didn’t know she was listening until she came out of the drawing room,” the footman said. “I am truly sorry, sir. I know you…care for her.”

“Yes, I do.” Ari drank the second glass of brandy dry. “Which is why you are going to help me stay in this house for the next two days no matter what she or Mrs. Collins say.”

“I am?”

“Indeed. Who is the most reliable and discreet messenger you know?”

“That would be Dickie Jones, sir.”

“Can you send for him at once?”

“I expect so. Where is he going?

“To my house on Bedford Square. He’s to take a message to a Mister Davies.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Rutherford picked up the bottle of brandy and poured a cup of coffee from the silver pot. “If you intend to save our Miss Venable, you’ll be needing to be sober.” He left with the brandy in hand.

“I’ll save her,” Ari muttered as he rubbed his fist over the middle of his chest. “What will I do after that?”