Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend (19 page)

But the man was a stranger to the beast, and the horse was not quick to obey. Andrew gained ground, his heart pounding as he neared Lucifer. Lucifer, sensing he was caught, raised the pistol and fired. Andrew ducked and turned the mare sharply left. And yet he still heard the shriek of the ball as it raced by him. Too close. His hands were clammy now and his heart pounding not from excitement but fear. And he was more determined than ever to kill this bastard who dared shoot at him.

He jabbed a knee into his mare’s flank, guiding her after the hunter again. Lucifer had gained some ground, but Andrew would make it up. He ducked low, riding as fast as he could over the dark, uneven ground, and then he swore he heard hoofbeats.

He shook his head to clear it, but they did not disappear. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and gaped when he saw her.

Lily. On the back of one of his horses. And she was gaining on them.

Her hair flew out behind her, a ribbon of flame in the cloudy night. What the devil was she doing? She was going to fall and break her neck at that speed. The night sky was far too cloudy to make out obstacles, and she was riding as though she were racing on Rotten Row. As she gained speed, he could make out the horse she commanded. His fastest gelding, which explained how she had caught up to him. And the beast was saddled for a man. Her skirts were ruched up to her knees, and the look of determination on her face was more than a little bit scary. Truly, she surprised him at every turn.

“Go back!” he yelled. “You’re going to break your neck.”

She was abreast of him now, and she flashed him a grin. The woman was mad. That was the only explanation. “
You
go back. I’m trained for this sort of thing.”

No one was trained for this sort of thing, though he would admit she’d had some experience riding horses. She handled her mount exceptionally well.

Andrew dug his heels in, urging his horse faster as Lily’s mount began to outpace them. When he was beside her again, she glanced at him, then ahead to Lucifer. They would reach him in a matter of moments… that was if one or both of their horses didn’t fall into a ravine or trip on a fallen log. They rose over a field, and Andrew estimated they were no longer on Ravenscroft property. If it had been morning, he would have noted landmarks and known where they were, but for the moment, nothing looked familiar. He was not even certain at this point that he could have found his way back.

“If you’re going to stay with me,” she was saying, looking alternately at him and ahead at the man they pursued, “cut him off on that side. We’ll box him in!” she yelled over the thunder of the hooves.

It wasn’t a bad plan—for a madwoman. He didn’t have a better one, so he angled his horse to Lucifer’s right, while Lily took the left. Lucifer’s mount was finally flagging, and Andrew thought it was none too soon. His own horse would not last at this speed much longer. He spurred her one last time, wanting a final burst of speed, and then he was neck and neck with Lucifer. The man jogged his horse to the right, trying to collide with Andrew’s mount, but Andrew’s mare easily moved aside.

On Lucifer’s left, Lily gained momentum. Lucifer must have heard her, but Andrew was attempting to keep Lucifer’s attention to give Lily time to… he did not want to think about what she would do. She undoubtedly had a plan, and undoubtedly, he did not want to know it.

As Lily closed in and Lucifer turned to gauge her progress, Andrew reached for Lucifer’s horse’s bridle. Lucifer jerked the beast aside. Unfortunately, he all but ran into Lily. Andrew yelled to warn her, but he needn’t have bothered. She was ready, and she dove from her horse onto Lucifer’s.

Andrew felt his chest constrict. He watched in stunned silence as both she and Lucifer went over the horse’s back and tumbled to the ground in a dizzying blur of dust and bodies. And then they were gone, and Andrew had to rein in his mount and reverse direction. The other two horses continued running. They would slow and return on their own. Andrew nudged his horse back, his gaze searching the ground for some movement among the various shapes.

And then he spotted them. He caught the glint of Lily’s hair in a brief flash of moonlight. She lay in a heap on the ground, and neither she nor Lucifer moved.

For a moment, she didn’t want to open her eyes. Everything hurt.

And then she remembered Lucifer, and she forced her eyes open and attempted to sit.

“Stay still.” Andrew was kneeling beside her, his expression full of worry. “You took a nasty fall.”

“I didn’t fall.” She struggled to sit, despite his injunction. “I jumped.”

“I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. It was a suicidal maneuver.” He seemed to realize she was not going to stay put. Reluctantly, he cupped her elbow and assisted her to her feet.

“It is only suicidal if I fail. Where is he?” A movement caught her attention, and she spun to find Lucifer gaining his feet. “Oh, no you don’t.”

She went after him, her body protesting the movement even as she pushed the limits of her endurance. Lucifer was limping himself, a dirty, crooked remnant of what he’d been. She caught up to him then ducked when he swung at her.

“I’ll kill you yet,” he rasped.

“You are welcome to try.” She’d never been lauded for her talents at fisticuffs, but she had learned a thing or two living on the streets of London. When he lunged for her, she elegantly sidestepped then brought her foot up, slamming it into his breadbasket—that
was
what the pugilists called it, was it not?

He doubled over, and she rounded and kicked him in the flank. But he was ready for her, and he caught her ankle and tipped her backward. She fell and rolled before he could grab her. But he was quick and dove before she could move well away. He would have landed on her had Andrew not stepped in. She thought he had shown remarkable restraint in waiting this long. But now he caught Lucifer by the shoulder, swung the man around, and plowed his fist into Lucifer’s face. Even if she could not see the blood spatter in the dark, she could hear the sickening smack of flesh crushing into bone.

Lucifer wheeled back and fell on his belly. But Andrew grabbed him, yanking him up and slamming his fist into the man over and over again. Lily was too shocked for a moment to do anything but stare, and then she blinked. Andrew was going to kill him. “Stop!” She rose to her knees, wobbled to her feet, and stumbled to the two men, one limp and one unrelenting in his assault. “Andrew! No!”

The new duke did not seem to hear her. Lucifer had collapsed to the ground, and Andrew fell to his knees beside the unconscious man, pummeling him. Lily took a risk and jumped in front of Lucifer. She winced as Andrew’s fist slammed down, but he pulled the punch at the last moment.

“Move.”

“No. You are killing him. Enough.” The wind had kicked up now, sending the clouds racing above them. The moon’s light shone intermittently, and she caught a flash of the anger and determination set as though in stone on Andrew’s face.

“Move!”

“No!” she screamed up at him. “I cannot allow you to kill him. Justice—”

“What justice?” Behind him, the wind whipped his hair about his face, making him look like some sort of madman. But she could not give up now. She had promised the Crown answers, and she would deliver. Lucifer would stand trial for his crimes. If Andrew continued in this manner, he would be the one on trial. “Did my father receive justice?” Andrew yelled. He stood rigid, his fists balled. “My father is dead. Where’s the justice in that? My mother is dead too. Both traitors. How do I live with that knowledge? There’s no
justice
!” He spat the word, and then he bent slightly. It was enough of a capitulation that Lily rose and went to him.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he stiffened, resisting for a moment. And then he crumpled against her. “There’s no justice,” he said, voice full of anguish.

“Shh.” She stroked his back, and together they went to their knees. “You are not a murderer, Andrew. A quick death is not justice. Justice is a lifetime in prison or the agony of waiting for an appointment at the gallows.”

His arms came around her, and she knew the rage inside him was ebbing away. The sound of hooves drew her attention, and she spotted several grooms riding toward them. When they neared, she held up a hand, giving them the signal to stand back and respect their lord’s privacy.

“I cannot believe he is gone,” Andrew murmured against her shoulder. “She is gone. Is it wrong to miss her?”

“No, no. Never. I understand, Andrew. I do. You know I do.” She missed her own parents. She did not even know if they still lived, but no matter. She had been dead to them years ago. “Killing Lucifer will not bring your mother or your father back. Nothing can do that.”

His body relaxed, and he pulled back from her, holding her lightly about the waist. She saw his gaze land on the grooms and then flick to Lucifer’s motionless form. She began to rise, expecting him to do the same. It would be a long night of explanations and details to be seen to. Her son must be tended. The duke’s body retrieved.

But Andrew held her in place, his hands moving from her waist to cup her face. “How is it you are so wise, Lily Dawson?”

“I’m a courtesan.” She smiled at him. “We know everything.”

He kissed her lightly. “Yes. You do.”

He rose then and went to the grooms, but throughout the remainder of the night and the long day that followed, she was never far from his side. She tried, a dozen times, to give him a moment alone, but he would catch her hand and draw her to his side. When his sister departed in the morning, the decision having been made that the trip to her elder sister’s should not be put off, Andrew kept Lily by his side throughout the tearful farewell. Like her brother, Emma had two parents to mourn now.

The broken man she had held briefly in her arms on the cold, windy field the night before did not return. Andrew was every inch the duke now. He had taken the mantle and wore it as though it had always been his. Several times, throughout the ordeal, she found herself watching him, amazed at how serious, how efficient he was. This was the man who had a quip for everyone and every situation. This was the man who recited bawdy verses he’d spent hours composing himself. This was the man who danced at balls until the sun rose.

This was the man who had never given her a second glance. Now he would not allow her out of his sight.

She’d had to reveal something of her role in the Foreign Office during the investigation that followed. Her first priority had been ensuring her son was safely back in the arms of his parents. After a doctor had examined the lad and assured her he would be fine, she had escorted him home herself in the carriage. The Ravenscroft steward had accompanied her, and she’d left it to him to explain to the boy’s distraught parents. The less involvement she had, the better. She had already put him in danger. She would never do so again.

When she’d returned, she’d written to Fitzhugh, asking him or his superior to come at once. Lucifer would need to be collected, and the documents the duke had hidden away would be taken into possession by the Crown. She would lobby to keep the identity of his mother secret, but she could not guarantee such a thing.

For all intents and purposes, her work here was done. And yet she was in no hurry to leave. Andrew needed her—or at least he wanted her beside him. She would stay until the official from the Foreign Office arrived, and then she would return to…

To London?

To the demimonde?

To the Countess of Charm?

She could. Her engagement to Ravenscroft had not been revealed—only Lady Emma and Andrew knew, and they had bigger secrets. She could return to being the last of The Three Diamonds.

Except masquerading as an Impure held no appeal. Even her work for the Crown had lost much of its luster. She was bruised and weary after this mission. The Duke of Ravenscroft was dead, killed before her eyes. She would never erase that horrible sight from her memory. Lucifer had almost killed her, and if he hadn’t been stopped, he might have gone on to ensure Fitzhugh and the other Diamonds in the Rough were assassinated.

But the Diamonds were safe now. Lucifer was locked away in a sturdy gaol in the nearby town. Her son was safely home, and from what she understood, had no memory of the events of the night before.

She watched through the windows of the front parlor as the last of Ravenscroft’s guests departed, looking somewhat less gay than they had when she’d arrived. Only Kwirley had asked questions and pried into Andrew’s affairs. Everyone else had gone without fuss.

Andrew had not seen the lot off, and as the last carriage pulled away, she turned to see him standing behind her. She was not surprised. He would not have been far. She studied him, the haggardness of his features, the strain about his eyes. His bearing was still rigid and ducal, but he was fraying at the edges.

“You need sleep,” she said at last, going to him. “I know it’s barely time for dinner, but you have been up all night.”

“So have you.” He pulled her into his arms, and she was surprised by how easy and comfortable she felt there, pressed against his chest. She inhaled deeply and could not resist resting her head against him. She would miss this when she returned to London. The security she felt when he held her, the warm, masculine scent of him, the tender way he held her. There had never really been a chance for them. She had only wished it so. If he were still the “Darling of the
Ton
,” they might have been happy together. For a little while.

But those days were over. He was the Duke of Ravenscroft now. He had responsibilities and a title to pass on to his heirs. He would no longer be allowed the luxury of trifling with a courtesan. Even one who loved him.

Even one she suspected he cared for very much.

“We’re the last ones left,” he said.

She almost laughed. Ravenscroft Castle employed a staff that numbered in the hundreds. They were not alone by any means.

“The funeral?” she asked.

“Will be small and without fanfare.”

That was probably best. While no one would make an effort to brand the duke as a traitor, the truth would come out when Lucifer was tried. He took her hand. “Come. Let’s to bed.”

She followed him, too weary to protest much, but they passed several maids and footmen, each of whom raised their brows as they passed. At his bedchamber door, she drew back. “I should retreat to my own chamber.”

He shook his head, opened his door, and drew her inside. “Now that I have you, I am not letting you go.”

“But the servants!” she protested as he dragged her inside and closed the door behind her. He reached around her, locked it, and bent to kiss her. “Andrew, do think what you are doing.”

“I know exactly what I am doing.” He gave her a wicked grin.

“You are the Duke of Ravenscroft now,” she reminded him. “You need an heir.”

He arched a brow. “Are you offering?”

“What? No!” She tried to push him away, but he would not release her. And his wandering hands were beginning to distract her. “I am a courtesan. Dukes do not beget legitimate heirs via courtesans.”

“You are not a courtesan.” He bent to kiss her neck.

She closed her eyes and struggled to focus. “I am, for all intents and purposes.”

“Not a very good one. We shall have to work on that.”

“No.” This time she succeeded in breaking free. “I care too much for you, Andrew. I think the sooner I leave, the better.” She started for the door, wishing he would stop her, wishing he would sweep her into his arms, carry her to the bed and make her stay. But that was a fantasy. Even if he had attempted it, she would have resisted. There was nothing he could say or do to make her stay. She had to protect his reputation and her own heart now.

“I was going to do this after the funeral, but I suppose I do not have the luxury of time. Lily Dawson, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

There was nothing he could have said or done to make her stay, except this.

She spun around and stared at him. He was kneeling. “Stand up,” she demanded.

He shook his head. “I do not think so. I have studied the form, and this is correct. I am supposed to entreat you on bended knee.”

“You will not…” She gestured helplessly. She could not even say aloud what he was doing. “You will not do this. Stand up.”

“But I am doing it, Lily. And I am a duke. You do not order me about. If I wish to propose, if I wish to make you my wife, I will do so.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, you will not. I will not do you the
dis
honor of becoming your wife.”

Anger flashed across his features, and he rose. “It’s no dishonor. You were born to be a duchess, Lily. Look where you have been. Look what you have overcome.”

“Exactly. I will cause you nothing but scandal. You know who I am. You know what I have done.” Tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks, and she wanted to turn and run, but he had locked the door, and when she attempted to turn the key, it fell to the floor. She went to her knees, trying to retrieve it, but he was beside her, his hands on her face, raising her gaze to his.

“You did what you had to in order to survive. You thought of your child more than yourself. You made mistakes, and you learned from them. Neither of us are saints, Lily, but if one of us is a devil, it is certainly not you.”

“And you are? The sins of the parents are not passed on to the children.”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair. “I was always so proud of our family honor. I thought my mother walked on water. But it was all a lie.” He took her hand. “What I feel for you is the only truth I know.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not when I know Juliette will always be your first choice.”

He was shaking his head. “No—”

“How can you deny it? I loved you for so long.” She rose, clutching her hands into fists. “And you never saw it. You never saw
me
. I was invisible whenever Juliette was nearby.”

“Lily, believe me when I say I do not want Juliette. I don’t even remember what I admired in her. This has nothing to do with Pelham or Juliette or anyone but you and me. I want you for my bride.” He took her fists, unclenched them. “Marry me.”

“I cannot. You will regret it within a year. When everyone talks—”

“Let them talk!” His tone was vehement, and he tightened his fingers on her hands. “I don’t give a bloody farthing what they say. I
need
you, Lily. I
love
you.”