Page 16 of Never a Duchess
Thankfully, the carriage slowed to a halt outside her brother’s home in Hanover Square. The midnight hour had passed, and Lillian prayed Alexander slept soundly.
Not that it mattered tonight.
She would lie awake, thinking about Dounreay stroking her arm, about his compelling brown eyes and flirtatious banter, about the poor woman seen dragged to her doom.
Devon sat forward. “I shall speak to Kinver about the incident in his garden. Perhaps I’ll mention it to Lucius Daventry, too.”
Lillian nodded. “It might help if Lord Kinver shared the guest list. I’m visiting Mr and Mrs Sloane tomorrow and will explain everything to Evan. He might investigate the matter.”
Evan Sloane worked as an enquiry agent for Mr Daventry and had befriended Lillian five years ago when her brother hired an agent.
Mention of the competent investigator banished Devon’s frown. “Excellent. Let Daventry’s man handle matters. You’ll only place yourself at risk if you attempt to identify the blackguard.”
She was capable of making a few discreet enquiries. Besides, she planned to keep her interactions with Dounreay to a minimum, and he would be her constant shadow if she dared venture to the docks.
“I shall follow Mr Daventry’s advice to the letter.”
Mina reached for Lillian’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “The duke is right. Doubtless, you witnessed a silly argument. Get some rest and I shall call on you tomorrow.”
Devon alighted and handed Lillian down to the pavement.
She bid him good night, but he said, “Did he touch you?”
“Who?”
“The duke.”
The memory of Dounreay’s hot breath against her ear, of his firm hand gripping her elbow, did strange things to her insides. “Only my wrist while insisting I wait in the bedchamber until you came to my rescue.”
Mistrust flashed in Devon’s eyes. “Rarely do men reveal what’s on their minds.”
She gave a knowing smile, for she was just as secretive. “I’m writing a book on that very subject. Rest assured, the duke is a friend, nothing more. I avoid him merely because of the mystic’s silly prediction.”
“Indeed,” was all he said before inclining his head.
Like a protective brother, he waited until she entered the house. She had thought to tiptoe upstairs, but the butler appeared like a ghost in the gloom, tapping his finger to his lips.
“The young master is asleep, miss.” He pointed to the drawing room door. “Lady Roxburgh is awake and keeping guard.”
Lillian smiled. “Thank you, Greyson.”
She crept to the drawing room and slipped quietly inside to find her sister-in-law Eliza settled in the wing chair, a plaid blanket draped around her shoulders.
Adam—or the arrogant Lord Roxburgh to most people—lay stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep. He wore trousers, and his burgundy silk robe gaped open, drawing the eye to where his son slept soundly on his bare chest.
“It’s the only way to settle him,” Eliza whispered.
Eliza referred to the child, yet Lillian had never seen her brother looking so relaxed, so at peace.
Memories of the day they found their mother’s body in Glendale’s lake invaded her mind. The shock had Adam darting into the vast maze. For two whole days and nights, he had stayed hidden in the dark depths, refusing food and company, and Lillian had been scared she would lose him, too.
A stranger left the maze days later.
A cold, indifferent boy who had buried his grief in the verdant tunnel, the location nigh on impossible to find.
“The sight warms my heart.” Emotion tightened Lillian’s throat. “I never thought to see him so happy and content.” It would take one tragedy to shatter the illusion. “He’s an exceptional father. But what if he had not found you, Eliza? What if he’d struggled to love you? I dread to think where he would be now.” Or how he might lapse into a depression if he suffered heartbreak again.
Was that Lillian’s destiny?
