Twenty

Still in Lilly’s chilly office

After several unusually loud tick-tocks of the clock

Studying Lilly, Zander canted his head.

Was she relieved or disappointed?

Truth be told, he was both, but what he felt more than anything was adoration for this extraordinary woman.

Surely God would not let him fall in love with this unique, intrepid, and wholly remarkable woman if he were already wedded.

That would be too cruel.

Nevertheless, he had crossed the mark by kissing her in the dining room.

He would not declare himself until he knew for certain that he was a free man.

That would not be honorable or fair to her or his wife—if she existed.

Three short wraps on the door drew their attention.

“Come in,” Lilly called, rising and then crossing to her desk to tuck the letter into a drawer.

Eliza slipped inside.

After casting Zander an openly curious glance, she bobbed a little curtsy. “Miss Granger? His lordship, Aldric Davenport, Viscount Merrivale, has called. He asks if you are at home?”

Zander jerked his head up, his stomach coiling into a tight knot.

Why was the viscount here after all this time?

Zander still had not put aside his suspicion that Lilly might be Matilda Davenport’s by-blow.

“ Am I at home ?” Lilly repeated, as if thinking out loud. “Aldric Davenport. The son? I was not aware his father had passed.”

It was as likely as feathers on fish that this was a social call.

Lilly must have had a similar thought, for three neat lines appeared across her forehead before she schooled her features into her usual benign expression that concealed her inner thoughts.

“Yes, of course, Eliza. Please show his lordship to the drawing room. I shall be there shortly.” Her calm, composed response did not fool him.

The viscount’s unannounced arrival had thrown her.

Eliza nodded and closed the door behind her.

It did not escape Zander that Lilly had not ordered a tea tray.

Before he could suggest he should accompany Lilly, she faced him. Only the bright, apprehensive gleam in her eyes revealed her disquiet.

“Zander, will you go with me to meet his lordship, please?”

Did she suspect she might need a witness?

Zander would wager his reputation and hers, she very well might.

She inhaled a deep breath before rushing on. “I cannot help but think there is a troublesome purpose behind a visit after all this time.”

Smart lass.

“Certainly.” He opened the door and waited for her to sweep past him.

As always, he caught a whiff of wildflowers.

With a little encouragement from him, Mrs. B had divulged Lilly did not wear perfume, but she bathed with scented soap—her one indulgence.

He spoke into her ear as they made their way to the drawing room.

“I do not know why he is here, Lilly, but I caution you to speak as little as possible until he reveals his motives. He may simply be curious and want to see what you have done with the place.”

That was as likely as the Thames running dry.

Lilly made a noise resembling a grunt.

She was not as unaffected as she pretended.

“His father never once bothered to visit the home.” She slid Zander a sideways glance. “Why would his son do so, especially since Miss Davenport has been dead these many years, and according to her, Aldric Davenport, rarely set foot in England?”

Excellent question.

“He did not even return for his mother’s funeral.” She firmed her pretty mouth. “No, something is afoot.”

They had nearly reached the drawing room.

“We shall soon learn his intent.” Zander took her elbow. “I am certain he expects you to receive him alone. Let’s present a united front, shall we? He will be less inclined to bully.”

Her distracted nod and tremulous smile revealed her trepidation.

With Zander by her side, she need not fear

He would champion and defend her.

Zander entered beside Lilly.

Across the room, a tall, well-built man attired in the first stare of fashion stood with his hands behind his back as he stared out the window onto the terrace. He pivoted as Zander and Lilly entered, a half-derogatory, half-self-important smile bending his mouth upward.

Astonishment rendered him speechless for a heartbeat before he strode across the room, a genuine smile of recognition creasing his face.

“Captain Westbrook! I say! This is an unforeseen pleasure.” He spared Lilly a cursory glance. “I did not expect to see you here. Last I heard, you were cavorting about in His Majesty’s Army.”

Zander froze, rooted to the spot.

He closed his eyes as his memory came flooding back, so fast and so overwhelming that dizziness engulfed him. All those fragments he had partially remembered chinked neatly into place to complete the puzzle.

Why he was familiar with women’s periodicals, cosmetics, lavender, and herbs— Grandmama, Libby Westbrook.

His knowledge of High Society and le beau monde .

His abduction and beating by the Earl of Highbury’s thugs.

The daring escape he had risked in the dark of night—only he had believed he was heading toward Hexham. Concussed, he must have become turned around during his flight.

Thank God he had.

He opened his eyes.

He never would have met Lilly had he not been confused and fled in the wrong direction.

Making a gruff sound in his throat, he lifted an unsteady hand to his forehead.

“Zander? Are you all right?”

Lilly’s worried tone came from far off. She pulled her elbow from his grip and laid her palm on his forearm.

“Zander?”

He blinked to clear his muddled mind and hazy vision—then blinked again as he met her perceptive gaze.

Nay, not Zander.

He was Captain Layton Westbrook, formerly of His Majesty’s Army.

And this grinning rake was none other than Aldric Davenport, now the Viscount Merrivale. He had attended Cambridge with Layton’s adopted brother, Leonidas.

A frown pulled Merrivale’s eyebrows together and turned his mouth downward for a brief moment.

“Zander?” His expression cleared. “Ah, if I recall, Alexander is one of your middle names.”

Damned astute of the man because Layton did not have a bloody clue what Merrivale’s middle name was and neither did he give a farthing’s curse.

“Changed your preferred name, have you? Cannot say that I blame you.” Amiable as ever, Merrivale chattered away, seeming not to notice Lilly’s shock. “I detest Aldric. Most of my inner circle calls me Rick.”

Layton swallowed before giving a shallow nod. “I left the army some time ago. I am currently an instructor at Kelston Hall Children’s Home.”

That seemed safe enough to divulge.

Lilly’s eyes grew impossibly rounder as she must have realized he had regained his memory, but she kept her lips tightly pressed together. Few women would have maintained their composure under these circumstances.

He admired her self-control and poise.

God, his head throbbed like he had been clobbered by an Australian Aboriginal’s waddy.

Australian ?

Yes, Australian.

Layton had been to Australia for a brief time, delivering confidential dispatches. That explained how he knew about long-neck turtles and gigantic spiders.

Merrivale’s eyebrows shot to his hairline in perplexed disbelief.

“You are employed… here?”