Secrets of a Wedding Night (35 page)

The bloody ring. Jordan had asked him once why he didn’t buy another to replace it. If only it had been that simple. No, this ring had been earned with every bit of the man Devon had become over the last five years.

He clenched it in his fist, squeezed it until his palm ached. What had he given up in return for this ring and for the promises he’d made to a man who had no honor?

Lily.

She was exactly who he’d thought she was five years ago. True. Original. She’d had to fight for herself all these years and nothing had been easy. She’d lived through hell. And managed it like only she could, with a strength born of necessity.

He’d loved her five years ago because she’d ignored all the rumors. She’d seen him and only him. He didn’t care anymore about the damn letter she’d written. She would have married him if he’d come for her that morning. He knew that. He’d read the truth in her eyes that night on the balcony at the house party.

Yes, Lily had always seen him. And now he saw her. Exactly as she was. Loving, strong, and willful.

Devon closed his eyes and turned his head toward the ceiling. Ironic that he should think himself so very good at games of chance. He’d always been so damned skilled at cards. Cards were like people, predictable, easy to guess. But not Lily. She was completely unpredictable. And he couldn’t live without her.

Devon opened his eyes and glared at the ring again. Medford was right. He was a fool. It had taken him five years, but he’d won back the wrong prize.

He turned to face his housekeeper. “No, Mrs. Appleby, I won’t be staying tonight. I’m returning to London. I must get to the Stanhopes’ ball.”

CHAPTER 40

“You’ve done nothing but mope around this house for the past fortnight.” Anne pointed an accusing finger at Lily.

“I have not been moping.” Lily petted Leo, who lay curled in a ball on the bed next to her.

“Yes you have.” Mary’s voice floated out of the adjoining dressing room.

The maid poked her head out of the door and Lily stuck out her tongue at her. Bandit, who had taken an especial liking to Mary, stuck her head out too.

“Very well. What, exactly, do the two of you think I should do about it?” Lily asked.

Anne laughed and clapped her hands. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked. We’ve been thinking about it, you see, Mary and I, and we have an idea.”

Lily glanced warily between the two. “I don’t like the sound of that one bit.”

“No, of course you don’t, but leave everything to us.”

Lily picked up Leo and cuddled him like a baby. The dog licked her on the nose. “What do you plan to do?”

Anne glanced at Mary and back to Lily again and giggled. “Well … we think you should seduce Lord Colton.”

Lily’s mouth dropped open. She set Leo back on the bed. “Seduce Lor…”

Anne nodded, her dark curls bobbing. “Yes, Lord Colton promised to seduce you once, didn’t he? Now it’s your turn.”

Lily crossed her arms over her chest and eyed her sister warily. “Something tells me you’ve learned what the word ‘seduce’ means.” She raised her voice. “Mary? Did you tell her?”

An innocent whistling sound floated from the dressing room. “Um … I don’t seem to recall.”

Anne lightly shrugged. “Do you like the idea or not? The Stanhopes’ ball is tonight and Lord Colton is sure to be in attendance. It seems you have two choices. You can sit here and mope, or you can get yourself together and get your husband back.”

“He’s not my husband.”

Anne crossed her arms over her chest. “Not yet.”

Lily contemplated the matter for a moment. She hopped off the bed and marched over to the looking glass. She eyed her reflection. She pulled a handkerchief from her bodice, wiped at her tired eyes and blew her nose in a most indelicate manner. Then she straightened her shoulders.

Anne was right. This was it.

It wasn’t a game. She loved Devon, blast it, loved him and wanted to marry him. And while her first marriage might have been a sham, her second would be a success no matter what she had to do to make it so.

She pinched color back into her cheeks and smiled, already feeling better. She wasn’t one to give up. She wasn’t one to lose. It didn’t matter what had happened five years ago. What mattered was what she’d found in Devon’s arms recently. Devon had told her he wasn’t a gambler. She believed him. He loved her. She knew he did, as surely as she knew she loved him. And she would prove it. To both of them.

Lily stood up straight and pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. She was beautiful, wasn’t she? Or so people told her. And Devon wanted her. Or at least he had. Yes, there was one way to get him back that couldn’t fail. Devon might have been the one to seduce her the first time and he’d plied his skill like a master. Well, this time she would be the one plying her skill.

She would get him back.

Lily would go to the Stanhopes’ ball and seduce Devon Morgan.

She spun around quickly, her skirts pooling at her ankles. “Quickly, Mary, help me dress. I’m wearing the lavender ball gown. Devon loves that gown.”

“But me lady, that one is cut so low, I need to remake it for you.”

“Precisely,” Lily replied with a gleam in her eye, “why I want to wear it.”

Mary blushed but nodded and turned back to the dressing room to retrieve the scandalous garment.

Anne gave her an impish grin. “Does this mean you’ve agreed?”

Lily floated over to her dressing table and pulled out a pot of rouge, a pot she’d never used before. “Yes. I intend to have a great deal of fun tonight. I
intend
to seduce my future husband.”

CHAPTER 41

“I swear I don’t know why I allow you to involve me in these sordid things,” Lord Medford whispered in Lily’s ear hours later as he escorted her into the gleaming ballroom at the Stanhopes’ town house.

“Because,” Lily replied, “we are friends.”

He smiled down at her and sighed. “Don’t pretend for one moment that you didn’t ask me to escort you tonight because you want to make Colton jealous.”

Lily snapped her mouth closed, her smile immediately fading. But then it spread slowly, completely, across her face. “Maddeningly so. I want him to be so jealous, he cannot see straight.”

Medford laughed. “Happy to help. Few things give me more pleasure than making Colton angry.” He tucked her hand under his arm and led her farther into the room.

Lily glanced about. All eyes were upon them. She swallowed. Hard.

“Not to worry,” Medford whispered. “If Colton doesn’t have a conniption at the sight of you in that dress”—he allowed his eyes to dip appreciatively to her generous décolletage—“I’ll make sure I finish him off with my complete adoration of you.”

Lily gave him a sidewise glance and smiled sweetly. “Precisely what I had in mind.”

“Ah, and here’s the bloke now.” Medford nodded toward a dark figure ahead of them.

Lily’s head snapped up to look. Yes, there he was. She pressed her gloved hand against her belly. She hadn’t expected to be quite this anxious. Her gaze followed him.

Devon moved across the ballroom. Despite the sling he wore over one arm, he looked devastatingly handsome in his perfectly tailored black evening attire. He stopped by a column only a few paces away and rested his good shoulder against it. Lily watched him. Her stomach twisted in knots as beautiful ladies approached him like lovely moths attracted to a gorgeous flame.

He was engaged in flirtatious discussion with a buxom, red-haired lady who laughed at everything he said and touched his arm entirely too often. When the redhead turned, Lily recognized her.

Lady Weston.

Medford cleared his throat in what seemed suspiciously like an attempt to cover up his laughter. “Ahem, seems Colton had the jealousy idea first.”

Lily gritted her teeth. “Dance with me, Medford,” she said, not taking her eyes from Devon and Emma, Lady Weston. “Dance with me until my head spins off.”

She pushed her chin in the air and threw herself into Lord Medford’s arms. They danced. And the entire time, Lily ensured her brightest, most radiant smile was plastered on her face. And she carefully ensured that she never, ever glanced Devon’s way.

*   *   *

Devon leaned against a pillar, surveying the crowd. He’d been searching for a way to get Lily alone all evening, but that nuisance, Medford, never left her side.

And it was driving him insane.

Devon’s gaze flicked across the ballroom. Lily stood in a group of people in the corner, smiling and laughing. If she touched Medford’s sleeve one more time, Devon would just have to snap the viscount’s neck.

Devon growled under his breath. He shoved his one good hand into his pocket and narrowed his eyes on her. She was wearing that lavender gown, the one with the décolletage he couldn’t ignore. That was it. He’d tried it the polite way long enough, now was the time for action.

He stalked over to the group, his resolve strengthening with each pace. He grabbed Lily around the waist with his good arm, hoisted her up, and easily tossed her over his uninjured shoulder.

Lily gasped. “Devon! What are you doing?”

He didn’t reply. He merely turned on his heel.

Medford stepped in front of them. Devon narrowed his eyes on the viscount. “I’ve been fantasizing about ripping you limb from limb all bloody evening, Medford. Don’t give me an excuse.”

Ignoring the looks of shock on the faces of the other guests, Devon pushed past the other man, Lily pummeling his back, and stalked out of the ballroom. He didn’t stop until he’d kicked open the wooden doors to the Stanhopes’ library. He took two strides into the room and tossed Lily unceremoniously on the settee before quickly turning back toward the doors and locking them.

When Devon faced her again, Lily’s eyes were shooting violet sparks at him. She scrambled up from the settee. Her breath came in violent puffs, her lovely breasts rose and fell in her daring décolletage with each inhalation. Her entire body shook.

Moving carefully behind a group of delicate antique chairs, she put distance between the two of them. She glared at him. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

The doorknob rattled. “Lily, Lily? Are you all right?” Medford’s voice was full of concern. He pounded against the wood. The doors shook.

A muscle ticked in Devon’s jaw. “Tell him to go away. Tell him, or by God, I’ll kill him. I swear it.”

*   *   *

Lily’s chest still heaved. God only knew what had got into Devon. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her or Lord Medford either, but there was no sense antagonizing him when he was being like this. “I’m fine, James,” she called, doing her best to make her voice sound confident.

Devon’s nostrils flared. He crossed his arms over his chest. “James?”

“Are you sure, Lily?” Medford’s voice penetrated the heavy doors. “Just say the word and I’ll break down the doors. I’ll—”

Lily raised her voice, hoping she could continue to sound calm. “No, James, really. I am fine. Please, just give us a few minutes.”

Silence for a few moments and then, “As you wish.” The fading sound of Medford’s boots clipping against the marble floors signaled his retreat.

Lily nodded toward the doors. “Have you any idea what sort of scandal you’ve caused?”

Devon’s eyes never left hers. “It’ll blow over eventually. Besides, they think we’re married. As far as they know we’re having a
domestic
dispute.”

Lily pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow to normal. “Fine then, Lord Colton, what is it you wanted to
talk
about?”

“I don’t want to talk.” He stalked across the room toward her, shoving the chairs out of his path.

Lily sucked in her breath, backing away from him. “That’s surprising. You seem to have been doing a lot of it with Lady Weston tonight.” Her voice shook.

Her back hit the far wall, stopping her, and Devon advanced. He stood in front of her, looming over her, pinioning her into the corner, his good arm braced against the wall on the side of her face. His brandy-laced breath was hot on her neck. “You cannot believe I’ve been lusting after Lady Weston when I’ve had you in my peripheral vision all night like a goddess come down from the heavens.”

His mouth swooped down to capture her lips and Lily ceased to think. His mouth claimed hers, ravaged hers. His lips forced hers apart and his tongue entered her with force and longing. Lily clung to his neck and kissed him back.

When Devon finally lifted his head, Lily was still breathing heavily. “Are you purposely trying to drive me mad?” she asked. “One minute you hate me, the next you kiss me.”

His crack of laughter bounced off the wooden bookshelves that lined the walls. “Hate you? Hardly. Damn it, Lily, I’ve spent the last fortnight trying to, but I can’t.”

“Isn’t
that
romantic?” She turned her head away and took a step to move past him, fluttering her hand in the air.

Devon grabbed her wrist. “Don’t.”

Lily stopped, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. “What?”

“When you wave your hand in the air like that, you’re trying to be flippant. But I know it means you care more than you can say.”

She swallowed. They were so close she could make out the dark irises of his eyes. “Why haven’t you told anyone we’re not married?”

“Because I want it to be true.”

Lily snapped her head to the side. Tears sprang to her eyes. Tears. Real tears. They slid, unbidden, unwanted, down her cheeks. She clenched her fists at her sides and willed them away. “Devon, don’t—”

His voice was calm. “Why do you hate
me
?”

She wiped away the tears with her fingertips. She turned to him then, and the vulnerability in his eyes nearly sent her to her knees. “I don’t.” She shook her head. “I never did. I was so sure you would hurt me again.”

Devon pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and pressed it gently into her hand. “I never meant to hurt you the first time. But you chose to marry Lord Merrill.”

Lily pressed the white cloth to her cheeks. Her voice shook. “I only agreed to marry the earl after I received your letter that morning, telling me you had changed your mind and must marry a girl with a larger dowry.”