Three Nights with a Scoundrel

Page 24

Tragic story told. Tears contained. Crisis averted.
Until Lily sniffed and began to blink furiously. Perhaps the dust bothered her, too.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone one of dismay. “I’m so sorry, but I’m going to cry.”
“No.” Panic seized him. “No, don’t. Please.” With a finger, he propped up her quivering chin. “Lily, I’m not worth your tears.”
The words squeaked from her throat. “I can’t help it.”
Oh Lord, here they came. Tears, in abundance. Streaking her cheeks, tracing down to her chin. Her shoulders lurched with violent sobs, and she leaned forward, slumping inexorably toward him until her brow rested against his chest.
He raised his hands in defense, or perhaps surrender. What should he do? He could bring himself to refuse her comfort, but he couldn’t refuse to comfort her.
So he did the only thing he could. Which was, to be honest, exactly what he’d been wanting to do for a very, very long time. Ever since the night Leo died.
He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into the protection of his body.
And he held her tight.
Chapter Thirteen
Lily loved him. She loved Julian.
There was no denying it, and at the moment, no classifying it. She didn’t know whether it made them friends or lovers or something altogether different and new. She just knew that no matter what his origins, no matter what his sins, no matter how many lies he’d told, she cared for this man—loved him—and she could not remain a spectator while he spoke of being born in shame, raised in squalor, and losing his mother while he was still no more than a boy. Her heart could not remain unmoved, and her body would not be still.
She trembled with all the fear he would not admit. She cried the tears he refused to shed. His arms were steel bands about her chest, and she pulled him closer still, crushing her ribcage to his—as if she could draw the pain from his heart and take it into hers.
When she brought her hands to his shoulders and pushed him away, she hated to release him. But he was speaking, and she needed to understand.
“Wait,” she said, touching the backs of her fingers to his cheek. “Go slowly. You’re losing me.”
“Yes.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “Yes, I know. And you were never even mine.”
“Julian, please.” How should she take such words? She looked for clues in the features of his face, scanning for an ironic quirk of his brow or a serious set to his jaw.
He joined her on the floor. They both sat, legs folded and hands doing the things hands did when left at loose ends. Picking at seams, tracing cracks on the floor. Light crept up the paneled wall. The new day was gaining strength, taking shape. It could no longer be ignored.
“What happens now?” she asked. Where did they go from here? So long as they went together, Lily wasn’t sure she cared.
He said, “I’m leaving London.”
The air left her lungs. “You’re … you’re leaving? But when?”
“I don’t know precisely. Soon.”
Inwardly, she told herself not to panic. Men left London all the time. They had things to do, people to see. Horses to purchase and investments to look after. She said casually, “When will you return?”
“I won’t be returning.”
Cruel, cruel man. She’d just shed a basin’s worth of tears for him, and now he told her he was leaving forever?
“This is why you must marry,” he said. “I can’t stay around to look out for you, and I can’t bear the thought of you alone.”
“And I’m supposed to rejoice at the thought of never seeing you again?”
“Yes, if you know what’s best for you.” He gestured with one hand, stirring the cloud of dust motes between them. “You’re always saying what a decent man I am, beneath the devilry. But it’s not the truth. It only seems that way, Lily. It only seems that way because I’m a better man when I’m near you.”
Perhaps he meant those words to be flattering or romantic, but they didn’t land that way. A horrid notion wormed in her stomach. “Does this have to do with your mother? Because she was deaf, and I am too? Is that why you feel so …” She hardly knew the word to say. “… attached to me, but unwilling to act on it?”
“No. No, it’s not like that. Trust me when I say this.” His eyes wandered her body, and his mouth quirked with sensual mischief. “When you’re close to me, I’m not thinking of my mother. At all.”
Lily pressed her lips together, hoping he was being truthful. She shuddered at the thought of being some sort of maternal figure to him.
“You do share certain of her attributes,” he went on. “Kindness, loyalty, courage. Naturally I admire those qualities in you. But you look nothing like her, I promise. And when it comes to the hearing, or lack of it—if anything, I’m more poised to see the differences. My mother was born deaf. You were deafened by illness. It’s an entirely separate thing. I can say to you, the pianoforte is out of tune, and though you don’t hear it, you understand exactly what I mean. Not so with my mother. But she and Anna and the others downstairs, they notice things—little subtleties of sights and smells and textures—that you and I would never think to heed.” He smiled. “If it helps, they don’t see you as one of them either. They’ll be gracious to you, but that’s because you’re with me.”
She thought of Anna’s bewildered expression when Lily confessed she couldn’t sign, and her message on the slate: Friend of Jamie welcome.
“Is that your name, then? Jamie?”
He shook his head. “Not really. It’s just what they’ve always called me here. As an adult, I began going by Julian.”
“So it is your real name. Julian.”
He shook his head again. “No. I don’t think so.”
“I’m so confused.”
“My mother was illiterate. She could barely recognize the letters of the alphabet. When she took me to be christened, she and the priest couldn’t make one another out. He grew frustrated and just picked a name. Wrote it in the register and pointed, but all my mother could catch was the first letter, J.”
“So you don’t even know your given name?”
“Of course I do. It’s this.” Bringing both hands together, he made the sign for the letter J and tapped it twice against his heart. “That’s my given name.”
The tears pressed again at the corners of her eyes. With every minute that passed in this cramped attic, she realized how little she truly knew about him. And now she might never have the chance to learn. “I wish I could have known your mother.”
“I wish you could have, too.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I wish a great many things were different.”
“So let’s change them. Tell me everything. Whatever your difficulty, we’ll work together to find a solution.”
“We can’t change the world, Lily. And the difficulty is here, between us. You’re a lady of noble birth, and I have you crouched on the floor of a dusty garret, chilled through and weeping. Last night, I was a minute away from deflowering you in a damp, reeking alleyway.”
Really? He would have taken her virtue last night, there in the street? The thought both repulsed and thrilled her.
“If you’d come to harm last night … I couldn’t have lived with myself today. I don’t need to remind you how I put Leo in danger, or what happened as a result.”
Not this again. “Julian, I asked for everything we did last night. And then some. I’m responsible for my own choices. Leo wanted to attend that boxing match, and he did so of his own accord. You are not to blame for what happened to him afterward.”
His eyes flashed. “How do you know that? I was supposed to be with him that night. I have enemies, Lily. Perhaps the men who killed him were really hoping to kill me.”
“That’s madness. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill you.”
“Of course you can’t. I’ve been very careful to keep those reasons from you. I’ll be damned if I’ll expose you to them now.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe this. You admit you’re a lowborn, unrepentant scoundrel with a criminal history and an insatiable taste for women and revenge. But I’m where you draw the line?”
“Yes. If I have it in me to do one truly decent thing in my life, it’s going to be this. Leaving you be.”
“Then you really are a bastard. Can you possibly understand how patronizing that is?” She gave a bitter sniff. “You’re so very careful with me. Because I’m so pure and delicate and deaf, you’re a better person around me. I’m the lucky object of your scruples. Meanwhile, you’ll blithely dally with any number of women you don’t respect. Perhaps I should take your advice and marry. If I married one of these lords you hate so fondly, maybe then you’d tup me too.”
Oh, God. Had she truly just spoken those words?
Color rose on his cheeks. He angled his gaze to the corner.
Yes. She had.
“Julian, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, don’t apologize. It was absolutely deserved. I am a bastard, Lily, in more ways than one. I’m glad you’re starting to see it. It makes this easier on us both.”
“Makes what easier? What is it we’re doing here?”
“We’re saying farewell.”
She choked back a sob, then buried her face in one hand.
His eyes pleaded with her as he pulled her hand away. “Try to understand. I have exactly two goals in my life right now. Justice for Leo, and security for you. And after last night, I must face facts. The first may always elude me. As for the second … It’s been proved beyond doubt, I can no longer be near you without endangering your health, your virtue, or both.”
Wiping her tears, she protested, “No one gives a fig for my virtue.”
“I give a fig for it. A great many figs. Several puddings’ worth. You should, too.”
How unforgivable of him, to make her laugh at a moment like this.
He went on, “You may say you want a lover—but you don’t, Lily. Not really. Take it from someone who knows, and who knows you. The slinking around to avoid discovery, the gossip and scorn if we were found out … it would weigh heavily on you. It wouldn’t end well.”
Drat it all. She knew in her heart he was probably right. She just wasn’t made for illicit affaires.
He rose, brushing the dust from his trousers as he stood. “Speaking of avoiding discovery, we should be going. Come, I’ll see you home.” He extended a hand.
She stared at it. A future without Julian stretched out before her like a bleak, endless wasteland. “Lord and Lady Ainsley’s assembly is next week. You said you’d attend. You made me a promise, Julian. Three nights. We’ve only had two. You owe me the one. You promised.” It was a stupid, contrived line of argument, but it was what she had. She just couldn’t leave here without knowing she’d see him again.
“So I did,” he said, looking thoughtful. “Very well.”
With a sigh of relief, she took his hand. “You’ll come?”
“I’ll come.” He pulled her to her feet. “I can’t escort you, but I promise you will see me there. In fact, it’s perfect. That night will be your second London debut. And it will be my grand farewell.”
Several days later, Lily sat once again at Leo’s desk. October had become November. She turned a fresh page in the ledger that lay open on the blotter. A blank slate.
She dipped her quill and drew a vertical slash down the center of the page, dividing it in two columns. At the top, she headed one “Arguments For,” and atop the other column, she wrote, “Arguments Against.” Lily felt like a schoolgirl, but she didn’t know what else to do. Ledgers always helped her see things clear.