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The Viscount. Lyn Stone
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Here she had just proposed to the infamous Devil Duquesne, the man people whispered about, feared even, because he was reputed to be dangerous. He did private enquiries and settled disputes in ways that were often permanent, so they said. The government employed him to ferret out spies. Perhaps he was one himself.
Jonathan had loved gossip and had delighted her with all sorts of tidbits out of London whenever he had gone up on business. Well, she was testing this piece of his tittle-tattle, surely.
Duquesne’s eyes had narrowed, assessing her yet again, as if from a different angle. He smiled, a near smirk, but it did absolutely nothing to detract from his appeal. Slowly he nodded, his smile growing, as if he couldn’t contain it within that cloak of cynicism. Was he going to say yes? Would he really marry her?
Lily almost panicked, very nearly withdrew her bold idea for a solution. If she did marry Duquesne, she might create another whole set of problems.
“Doubts now, Lily?” he asked, crossing his arms and regarding her intently. He looked amused.
“No. None.” She would stand firm by her decision. If he would have her, if he would commit to the cause of her protection and that of her son, she’d be willing to wed the devil himself. If that was trading her body and her fortune, so be it.
“If I say yes, you should know that I would expect something from you other than money,” he told her.
She was well aware of what that would be, of course, but she had already offered that on a silver platter. “I know.”
“Besides that,” he said, his expression now rather serious. “If I should…in the future, fall victim to my father’s malady, I should expect you to keep me…at home. My home, of course, not yours. That is, if you could possibly arrange it.”
Lily softened inside, her heart going out to him on the instant. “Oh, most assuredly, Guy. I would never, never consign you to…” She cast about for a nice word for the terrifying place she had just escaped.
He shifted as if highly uncomfortable in speaking of this. His gaze rested on the floor between them. “I considered placing my father at Plympton. It is close to home, privately run and not as bad as one might expect, but I simply could not bring myself to do it, to uproot him from his familiar surroundings. You see, though he’s not the man he once was, he has moments, even days, when he functions quite normally.”
“Plympton? They mentioned that, Guy! Tonight I heard that name. They were planning to move me there. Where is it?”
He unfolded his arms and braced them on the edge of the desk as he looked up at her. “Roughly twenty miles or so from Edgefield to the north. The old mansion Lord Younger sold off some years ago.”
She knew of it, but had not known it was now used as an asylum. “I see. That puts proof to the fact that Clive must be behind this scheme against me, then. It is also near Sylvana Hall, as you know. Once I was certified insane, he could keep watch and perhaps continue drugging me if I were at Plympton.”
He nodded. “So, could you agree to this condition? You would, of course, hire a man who would see to my needs and ensure I would be no danger to anyone should the worst happen. You could live wherever you chose.”
Unable to help herself, Lily approached him and touched his face, much as she would Beau if he were this troubled. “Oh, Guy, you speak as if this is a definite thing for you to dread.”
He covered her hand with his, a light contact recognizing her gesture. “It is a possibility we must address, Lily. As yet, I’ve suffered no symptoms akin to my father’s and I hope I never shall, but I want you aware of what might happen in future. It is wise to plan for all contingencies, don’t you think?”
Lily closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, unable to imagine this man incapacitated in any way, especially with regard to his mind. She nodded. “I agree. If you will look after me and my son, I give you my word I shall move heaven and earth to follow your wishes in this.” She looked up at him so that he could see she was sincere. “Guy, I will do it anyway. Whether you want me as a wife or not. I shall do it as your friend.”
Never had she seen such an expression of relief. And something approaching awe. He cradled her face with both his hands and lowered his lips to her forehead. His mouth felt warm against her skin and very gentle.
Then he pulled back and searched her eyes with his. “This is a terrible risk you’re taking, Lily. You don’t really know me. You cannot know all I have done or am capable of doing.”
She sighed and rested her palms on his chest, feeling the warmth, the beat of his heart, through the rich, worn fabric. “I know that you are compassionate with regard to your father. I know that you listen to me and truly hear what I say. And while you do have a reputation for ruthlessness—” she smiled at his surprise “—a ruthless man is precisely what I need.”
His small laugh was self-deprecating as he shook his head. “What gods do you suppose have thrown us together tonight? Ours will likely be a match made in hell.”
She straightened, grasping the lapels of his robe. “Then you will do it?”
He dropped a kiss on her lips, just a brief, perfunctory touch borne of camaraderie, it seemed. His voice was light and full of mischief. “Of course I will do it. I’d be a complete fool to refuse such a deal.”
Lily felt unaccountably lighthearted, considering the weighty matter at hand. “Excellent!” She backed away from him, a bit self-consciously, breaking his contact with her face and hers with his chest. It was devilishly hard to think when they were touching.
He pushed forward from the desk where he’d been leaning and began to shuck off his robe. “Then we had best get to it. We’ll need a special license, back-dated, of course.” He spoke as if to himself now. “Justice Jelf will get that, for a hefty fee.” All the while, he was donning a jacket that had hung over the back of a straight chair by the door.
Lily watched as he bent behind the desk and then sat to pull on his stockings and boots. It seemed too intimate an act to watch, so she turned away, still listening to his running commentary to himself. “Horses. Hammersley’s, I think. We’ll ride to Sylvana Hall after, by way of Edgefield, to change your clothing.”
“I thought you were sending for Beau and Mrs. Prine,” she said, interrupting him.
He looked up from his task. “Not now. I think we should make our stand on home ground. I had thought at first to hide you and your son until I could straighten out this tangle of yours with the authorities. However, if we are married and appear to have been so before Bradshaw made his move, he’ll play hell explaining why he kidnapped my wife. We’ll level charges against him if necessary.”
“But…but we were not married then,” Lily argued.
He grinned and stood up, stamping to settle his feet into the scuffed Hessians. “Ah, but we will have been. Once Tommy Roundhead does his magic on the locks at the records office. Happy first month’s anniversary, darling. May we have many, many more.”
Lily shook her head in wonder. “I have a distinct feeling ours is going to prove a unique wedding.”
“My lady, you cannot even imagine how unusual it’s going to be.” He opened a drawer of his desk, retrieved a wicked-looking pistol, checked the cylinder of it and added the ammunition. Then he tucked it into the waistband of his trousers where it seemed right at home.
Lily swallowed hard and shivered, suddenly aware of just how dangerous this man might become if crossed.
She watched as he stretched out his hand, inviting her to take it. Or perhaps daring her to do so. “Are you up for a sprint across the back alleys of Mayfair and a night ride into Whitechapel?”
Lily locked her palm to his and intertwined their fingers. A promise. A binding betrothal, however brief. A daring leap into the unknown with a man who might be teetering on the edge of sanity even as they said their vows.