Then came you, by lisa kleypas.txt Read online

did. The soft lavender gown with its frilly lace collar seemed to emphasize the pallor of her skin and the shadows under her

  eyes. Her lips were red and swollen, a testament to his roughness the night before.

  "You look like hell," he commented rudely, fumbling to light another cigar.

  "No worse than you. A man in his cups is always so disgusting." Lily wandered to the velvet-festooned window and opened it, letting some fresh air into the stale room. She frowned as she saw the cigar burns on the leather-lined table, an exquisite piece

  that was used to display rare folio books. Ruined. She turned and discovered that Alex was staring at her, his cold eyes daring

  her to rebuke him. "What caused this?" she asked.

  He showed her a used cigar butt.

  She smiled sourly. "Actually, I was asking what caused you to swill your liquor like a pig at the trough. Pining after long-lost

  Saint Caroline? Or is it that you're jealous because Zachary's a better man than you'll ever be? Or could it be—"

  "It's you," Alex snarled, tossing the brandy bottle aside, not seeming to notice the resulting shatter. "It's because I want you

  out of my home, out of my life, away from me. You're leaving within the hour. Go back to London. Go anywhere."

  Lily threw him a disdainful glance. "I suppose you want me to throw myself at your feet and beg—'Oh please, my lord, allow

  me to stay'— well, you won't have your way, Raiford! I'm not begging, and I'm not leaving. Perhaps when you're sober we

  can discuss whatever it is that has set off this tantrum, but until then—"

  "I'm fortified with a bottle of brandy, and I can barely tolerate you, Miss Lawson. Believe me, you don't want me sober."

  "You pompous ass!" she exploded. "I suppose you've decided I'm the cause of all your problems, when the trouble is all in

  your stupid, thick, muddled-up head—"

  "Start packing. Or I'll do it for you."

  "Is this because of last night? Because of one meaningless kiss? Let me assure you, it held less significance for me than—"

  "I told you to leave," he said with deadly calm. "I want every trace of you out of here, including your cards, your midnight

  rambles, your little schemes, and your big brown eyes. Now."

  "I'll see you in hell first!" Lily faced him, ready to stand her ground. She watched in bemusement as he left the library. "Where

  are you going? What are you ..." Following him, she saw him at the foot of the grand staircase. He was heading to her bedchamber with ground-covering strides. "Don't you dare!" she screeched, and scampered after him. "You inhospitable

  swine, you conceited, arrogant monster ..."

  Flying up the stairs, Lily reached the bedroom at the same time Alex did. A startled housemaid was engaged in changing the linens. After one glance at the pair, she fled as if retreating before an invading army. Alex flung open the armoire and began

  to stuff articles of clothing into the first available valise.

  "Take your paws off my things!" Outraged, Lily grabbed a delicate china figurine from the bedside table and hurled it at him.

  Alex ducked quickly. The figure shattered against the wall behind him.

  "That belonged to my mother," he growled, his gray eyes filled with an unholy light.

  "And what do you think your mother would say if she saw you now, a violent brute with a dried-up heart rattling in his chest, caring about nothing except his own selfish needs . . . ah!" Lily cried out in fury as Alex opened the window and tossed her

  valise outside. Gloves, stockings, and feminine articles fell from the half-open valise and scattered on the drive outside.

  Whirling around, Lily searched for something else to throw. She happened to catch sight of her sister standing in the doorway.

  Penelope was staring at them in horror. "You've both gone mad," she gasped.

  Soft as her voice was, it caught Alex's attention. He paused in the act of cramming a dress into a hatbox and glared at Penelope. With his contorted face and his drunken, disheveled blondness, he hardly looked like himself.

  "Take a close look, Penny!" Lily said. "This is the man you've agreed to marry. A fine sight, isn't he? You can always tell a

  man's true character when he's pickled. Look at him, oozing meanness from every pore!"

  Penelope's eyes widened. Before she could form a reply, Alex spoke to her harshly. "Your erstwhile lover won't be coming

  back here, Penelope. If you want him, leave here with your sister."

  "She most certainly will," Lily snapped. "Pack your things, Penny, and we'll go to the Stamford estate."

  "But I couldn't . . . Mama and Papa wouldn't approve," Penelope said in a faltering whisper.

  "No, they wouldn't," Lily agreed. "Is that as important to you as Zachary's love?"

  Alex directed a chilling stare at Penelope. "Well? What will it be?"

  Looking from Lily's defiant face to Alex's ominous one, Penelope turned as white as chalk. Giving a terrified cry, she darted

  away and headed for the retreat of her own room.

  "You bully!" Lily exclaimed. "Dog in the manger! You know very well you can intimidate the poor child into doing whatever

  you want!"

  "She made her choice." Alex tossed the hatbox to the floor and gestured to it. "Now, should I finish your packing, or will you

  do it?"

  There was a long moment of silence.

  "All right," Lily said contemptuously. "Get out. Leave me in peace. I'll be gone within the hour."

  "Sooner if you can manage."

  "Why don't you explain the situation to my parents?" Lily invited with a sneer. "I'm sure they'll agree with everything you say."

  "Not another word to Penelope," Alex warned, and strode from the room.

  As soon as she was certain he was out of earshot, Lily took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She shook her head, laughing quietly to herself. "Arrogant ass," she murmured. "Do you really think I'd be defeated so easily?"

  Chapter 6

  A parade of cowed-looking servants carried Lily's valises and portmanteaux out to the chaise. The closed carriage was

  adorned with shining lacquer and the Raiford armorial bearings. Alex had given the driver explicit instructions to deliver Lily

  to her terrace in London and return without delay.

  Lily's allotted hour was nearly over. Mindful of the passing minutes, she wandered through the mansion in search of her father.

  He was in one of the small upstairs parlors, seated at a desk burdened with stacks of books.

  "Papa," Lily said tonelessly.

  George Lawson acknowledged his daughter with a glance over his shoulder. He straightened his spectacles. "Lord Raiford informed me that you are leaving."

  "I'm being forced to leave."

  "I expected that," he replied ruefully.

  "Did you say anything in my defense, Papa?" Lily's forehead creased. "Did you tell him I should be allowed to stay? Or are

  you happy I'll be gone? Do you have a preference one way or the other?"

  "I have reading to do," George said in a befuddled way, indicating his books.

  "Yes, of course," Lily murmured. "I'm sorry."

  He turned in his chair to face her, his expression perturbed. "There is no need to apologize, daughter. I am no longer surprised

  by anything you do or any commotion you cause. I ceased to be surprised a long time ago. You never disappoint me because

  I never expect anything of you."

  Lily wasn't certain why she had come to find him—for what little he expected of her, she expected even less of him. As a child, she had bothered and provoked him relentlessly—sneaking into his office, pestering him with questions, accidently spilling ink all over his desk while trying to write with his pen. It had taken years for her to accept the crushing fact that he wasn't interested in her, not her thoughts or questions, her
good behavior or even her bad behavior. She had always tried to find a reason for his indifference. For a long time she had felt it was some terrible fault in herself that caused him not to care. Before leaving home

  for good, she had confided her guilt to Totty, who had managed to assuage it somewhat.

  "No, dear, he's always been that way," Totty had said placidly. "Your father has a quiet and withdrawn nature. But he's not a

  cruel man, Lily—why, there are some men who beat their children for disobeying them! You've been fortunate to have a father

  of such gentle disposition."

  Privately Lily had considered his indifference almost as much a cruelty as beating would have been. Now she was no longer resentful, or puzzled by his lack of caring, but resigned and rather sad. She tried to find words to tell him how she felt.

  "I'm sorry for being such a scapegrace," Lily said. "Perhaps if I'd been a son, we might have found some way to get along together. Instead I've been rebellious and foolish, and I've made such mistakes . . . oh, if you only knew, you'd be even more ashamed of me than you already are. But you should be sorry, too, Papa. You've been little more than a stranger to me. Since I was a child I've had to forge my own way. You were never there. You never punished or scolded me, or did anything to show

  you were aware of my existence. At least Mother bothered to cry." She raked her hands through her hair and sighed. "All the times I needed someone to turn to ... I should have been able to rely on you. But you kept to your books and your philosophical treatises. Such a fine, scholarly mind you have, Papa."

  George glanced at her then, his eyes filled with protest and rebuke. Lily smiled sadly. "I just wanted to tell you that in spite of everything . . . I still care about you. I wish ... I wish you could say you felt the same."

  She waited, her gaze fixed on his face, her small hands clenching into tight fists. There was only silence.

  "Forgive me," she said casually. "I think Mother's with Penelope. Tell them I love them. Good-bye, Papa." Abruptly she turned

  and .walked away.

  Controlling her emotions, Lily descended the majestic staircase with its multitude of landings. She realized with regret that she would never have occasion to see Raiford Park again. Surprising, how she had come to love the quiet grandeur of the place and

  its rich classical design. What a pity. Were it not for Alex's sour disposition, he could have offered such a splendid life to a woman. Bidding good-bye to the butler and two housemaids wearing forlorn expressions, Lily went outside to watch the last of

  her belongings being loaded onto the carriage. Shading her eyes with her hand, she saw a lone figure ambling along the drive. It was Henry, returning from a morning spent with his friends in the village. He held a long stick in one hand, swinging it aimlessly

  as he walked.

  "Thank God," Lily said with relief. She gestured for him to come to her. Henry quickened his pace. When he reached her, he looked at her with questioning blue eyes. Affectionately Lily pushed a few locks of golden hair from his forehead. "I feared

  you wouldn't return in time," she said.

  "What's this?" Henry glanced at the carriage. "In time for what?"

  "For good-byes." Lily smiled wryly. "Your brother and I have had a falling-out, Henry. Now I must go."

  "Falling-out? Over what?"

  "I'm leaving for London," Lily said, ignoring his question. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to teach you all my card tricks, old fellow.

  Well, perhaps we'll cross paths again one day." She pasted a doubtful expression on her face and shrugged. "Perhaps even at Craven's. I spend most of my time there, you know."

  "Craven's?" Henry repeated in awe. "You didn't mention that before."

  "Well, I'm quite good friends with the proprietor."

  "With Derek Craven?"

  "So you've heard about him." Lily concealed a satisfied smile. Henry had gone for the bait, as she had known he would. No healthy, hardy boy could resist the lure of the forbidden masculine world on St. James Street.

  "Who hasn't? What a life he's led! Craven knows all the richest, most powerful men in Europe. He's a legend. The most

  important man in England . . . aside from the king, of course."

  Lily smiled. "I wouldn't exactly say that. Were Derek here, he'd most likely tell you that in the whole scheme of things, he's

  merely a piss in the sea. He does run quite a nice gaining establishment, though."

  "At school the fellows and I all talked about the time when we'll finally be able to go to Craven's and play the tables and see the women there. It won't be for years, of course. But someday what high times we'll have ..." Henry broke off with a wistful sigh.

  "Why someday?" Lily asked softly. "Why not now?"

  He gave her a startled look. "I wouldn't be allowed past the front door. At my age—"

  "Of course, a boy of twelve has never seen the inside of the place," Lily conceded. "Derek has rules about such things. But he'll do anything I ask. If you were with me, you could go inside, see the gaming rooms for yourself, dine on French cuisine, and meet

  a house wench or two." She grinned mischievously. "You could even shake Derek's hand for luck—he claims it rubs off on you."

  "You're teasing," Henry said suspiciously, but his blue eyes were bright with impossible hope.

  "Am I? Come with me to London and find out.

  We couldn't let your brother know, of course. You'd have to stow away in my carriage." Lily winked at him. "Let's go to

  Craven's, Henry. I promise you an adventure."

  "Alex would kill me."

  "Oh, he'd be angry. I wouldn't doubt it for a minute."

  "But he wouldn't thrash me," Henry said reflectively. "Not after all the breechings I got at that rotten school."

  "Then what do you have to fear?"

  Henry gave her a grin of incredulous delight. "Nothing!"

  "Alors, come aboard," Lily said with a laugh. She lowered her voice. "Don't let the driver or anyone else see you, Henry.

  You have no idea how disappointed I would be if you were caught."

  * * *

  She was gone. Alex stared out the library window, watching the carriage round the bend of the drive. He waited for a feeling

  of relief that didn't come. Instead there was emptiness. He prowled through the mansion like a caged tiger, wanting to break

  free of something . . . something ... if only he knew what it was. The house was unnaturally quiet. The way it had been for

  years, before she arrived. Now there would be no more arguments, no more troublemaking, no ridiculous antics. He expected

  to feel better any minute now.

  His conscience prodded him to go to Penelope. He knew his display of drunken rage had frightened her. Mounting the stairs,

  Alex vowed that from now on he would be the soul of patience. He would do all within his power to please Penelope. A vision

  of his future with her stretched before him—long, civilized, predictable years. A bleak smile curved his lips. Anyone would

  agree that marrying Penelope was the right thing.

  As he neared her room, he heard the sound of heartbroken weeping, and a voice so vibrantly passionate that for a split-second

  he thought it was Lily. But the tones were softer and higher than Lily's. "I love him, Mother," Penelope sobbed. "I'll love

  Zachary forever. If only I were brave like Lily! Then nothing would have stopped me from going to him."

  "There, there," came Totty's soothing voice. "Don't say such things. Be sensible, darling. As Lord Raiford's wife, your future—

  and that of your family—will be secured forever. Your father and I know what's best for you. And so does Lord Raiford."

  Penelope's sobbing continued unabated, though she managed to gasp, "I don't th-think so."

  "I'm right about these matters," Totty continued. "This is all your sister's doing. I love Wilhemina dearly—you know that
—but

  she's never satisfied until she's made everyone miserable. We owe Lord Raiford an apology. That well-bred, even-tempered

  man ... I can scarcely believe the state Lily has put him in! We should never have allowed her to stay."

  "She was right about everything," Penelope choked. "She knew how Zachary and I love each other. . . oh, if only I weren't

  such a c-coward . . ."

  Alex walked away, his fists clenched. A self-mocking smile crossed his face. He would have liked to blame Lily, as Totty did,

  but he couldn't. The fault was all his, springing from his shattered self-control, he reawakened appetite for something he could never have.

  * * *

  During the ride to London, Henry seemed to consider it necessary to recount every kind and selfless thing Alex had ever

  done for him, dating back to his infancy. As a captive audience, Lily had no choice but to listen. She endured it with what

  she considered to be remarkable forbearance. As he lounged on the carriage seat opposite her, Henry described the time