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CHAPTER THREE

LILAH WAS BORED. She had spent the morning in the drawing room with her aunt, answering correspondence. There was little of that, as her father, to whom she had once written faithfully, had passed on two years ago, and it had been many years since she’d exchanged letters with his sister, Vesta. Sabrina, with whom she had maintained the longest, largest correspondence, was away on her honeymoon.

She missed Sabrina. Her friend had lived in London for only a couple of months, but for that time it had been as if they were together in Miss Angerman’s Academy for Young Ladies again. Sabrina was not the only one she missed. In the process of preparing for Sabrina’s wedding, Lilah had become friends with the Morelands, as well. All the Morelands had returned for the wedding, along with their spouses and broods of children. It made for an occasionally chaotic environment, but one that was always entertaining and congenial.

There had been any number of lively conversations with the duchess, ranging over a host of topics, and though Lilah and the very forward-thinking Duchess of Broughton had disagreed from time to time, their discussions were invigorating and even enlightening. Megan told entertaining stories about her years of reporting and traveling the world with her husband, Theo Moreland. Kyria, vibrant and warm, was almost impossible not to like—as were the duke and his diminutive uncle Bellard, a veritable treasure trove of knowledge once one got him started.

Thisbe, Theo’s twin, was a scientist who spent much of her time in her laboratory working on things Lilah neither understood nor, really, cared to understand. But Thisbe was also possessed of a dry wit and an easy, outgoing nature much like her twin’s, and Anna, Reed Moreland’s wife, was a quiet spot of serenity amid the noisy bustle of activity at Broughton House.

Lilah had especially come to like Olivia, the youngest of the Moreland daughters. Olivia, though she shared with Constantine an odd interest in the occult, was as devoted a reader as Lilah, and once they discovered their mutual interest in books of mystery and danger, they had spent many a pleasant afternoon chatting.

The days since the wedding had seemed quite empty. Lilah hadn’t any reason to visit Broughton House. Without her friend Sabrina there, it seemed a bit presumptuous to make a social call at the house of a duke, at least until they had called on her. Lilah would hate to be thought a social climber.

Worse…what if Con were at home? What if he thought Lilah was there in the hopes of seeing him? Given the way she had behaved the other night—it made her blush even to think of it—he would be justified in assuming she was setting her cap for him. Nothing could be further from the truth of course. Lilah would never pursue any man, much less someone like Con. He would be the last person she would want to marry—not that he would ever ask someone like her.

Con probably thought it was funny that such a prim and proper woman as Lilah had acted so unlike herself. He knew she had been about to kiss him. No doubt he would tease her about it. He would laugh, that rich, warm laughter that made one want to join him, his lips curving up and his eyes lighting with mischief. It was most unfair that his teasing made him even more attractive.

That was the root of the whole problem with Constantine Moreland—he was so utterly appealing. Lilah liked the straight black slashes of his eyebrows—the way they lifted when he was amused or drew together fiercely when he frowned. She had more than once felt a strange desire to reach out and smooth a finger along one of them. His eyes were such a sharp green, darkened by that thick row of black lashes. Those cheekbones, that jaw, that chin. That mouth. Thank goodness she had always had firm control of herself and had kept such thoughts hidden.

But then she had destroyed all her efforts by going out onto the terrace with him. Standing there in that dark secluded corner with him, a situation so intimate, so warm, so ripe for seduction. Turning her face up for his kiss. If only she hadn’t drunk that champagne. If only he hadn’t asked her to dance.

No. She must not call at Broughton House, even if she could come up with a good reason to do so. She should settle back into her normal life. It might take a bit of time, but she would become accustomed to it. Being around the Morelands had been exciting. Entertaining. But that wasn’t how Lilah lived. She was not flamboyant; she didn’t crave adventure and excitement; she wasn’t driven by wild uncontrollable passion. All she had ever wanted was a quiet, pleasant, rational life. The sort of life she had.

Lilah gave a little nod of her head, feeling a bit as if she had won an argument. She glanced over at Aunt Helena, whose head was bent over her embroidery. Lilah was forcibly reminded of Con’s comment about spending her days on embroidery.

“Do you need anything done?” Lilah asked. “Is there an errand I might run for you?”

Aunt Helena looked up and smiled. She was a small, neat woman, her blond hair now touched with gray at the temples. Lilah felt an upwelling of affection. Aunt Helena had welcomed her and raised her, and Lilah could never repay her for that. It was no easy task to take on a girl of twelve and guide her into womanhood, to train her in proper behavior and the ins and outs of society. Con might sneer about mundane things like needlework—and, frankly, Lilah was not fond of embroidering either—but there was nothing wrong with spending one’s time that way. And her aunt’s work was excellent.

“Oh, no, dear, no need for that. Cuddington has gone to the apothecary to pick up my tonic, and Mrs. Humphrey has the house in order as always. Why don’t we discuss our calls this afternoon?”

Calls weren’t what Lilah had in mind to relieve tedium. They were tedious, more often than not. But Lilah held back her sigh. Making and receiving calls was a fact of life.

“I thought we would go early in the afternoon,” Aunt Helena said. “That way we’ll be back by the time Sir Jasper comes.”

“Sir Jasper is visiting us this afternoon?” Lilah asked in some dismay. “He was here just two days ago.”

“Well, of course, I don’t know he’ll call on you.” Aunt Helena gave her a small, conspiratorial smile. “But given his recent behavior…”

Her aunt had hopes that Sir Jasper had matrimony in mind. Unfortunately, Lilah suspected she was right. She wished Aunt Helena would not encourage the man. But she had no desire to get into a discussion of that, so she said only, “Who were you thinking of visiting?”

“Mrs. Blythe, of course, to thank her for that lovely little dinner party last night. And it’s been some time since we’ve called on Mrs. Pierce.” Lilah couldn’t hold back a small groan at that name, and her aunt smiled. “Yes, I know, dear. Elspeth Pierce is a dreadful gossip. But that’s exactly why one mustn’t get on her bad side.”

“I suppose.” She didn’t really mind the woman’s gossiping; it was the insipidity of her conversation that wore on Lilah’s nerves. But her aunt was right; when Mrs. Pierce took a dislike to one, she was deadly.

“I really should call on the vicar’s wife,” Helena continued. “But their daughter is ill, so that will excuse us from that.”

“It seems visiting people shouldn’t be such…a chore.”

Aunt Helena smiled. “It would be nice. But we cannot shirk one’s social obligations, can we?”

Lilah thought somewhat resentfully that the Morelands seemed to be able to do so easily enough. But, of course, Lilah wouldn’t want to be viewed as the Morelands were. She cast about for something to occupy her until this afternoon’s calls.

“Perhaps I shall go to the bookstore first.” Lilah popped up from the sofa as a sudden thought occurred to her. “On my way, I can drop off a book for Lady St. Leger. I have a Wilkie Collins she has not read yet, and I promised to lend it to her.” Olivia wanted the book; it wouldn’t be rude or out of place to visit the Morelands as long as she had a reason. Indeed, the proper behavior would be to take the book to Olivia, as Lilah had promised. And there was no reason to worry about running into Con; he was doubtless off on one of his adventures.

“Lady St. Leger?” Her aunt’s forehead wrinkled a bit. “Do I know her?”

“She’s one of Sabrina’s sisters-in-law. She and her family came to stay at Broughton House for the wedding.”

Her aunt’s frown grew. “One of the Morelands? Dear, do you think that’s wise?”

“I promised, Aunt Helena. I can hardly ignore a promise.” Lilah was feeling more cheerful by the moment. It would be good to see Olivia again, to have a nice long chat about books. Much as she loved and respected her aunt, Helena was not a reader. Maybe Kyria would be there, too. Or the duchess.

“Of course not,” her aunt agreed reluctantly. “I just thought now that the wedding is over, you wouldn’t be seeing them as much.”

“I haven’t seen them. It’s been four days,” Lilah reminded her. “I should go now so I’ll be back in time for our afternoon calls.” She turned toward the door.

“It’s rather early for paying a call, don’t you think? Not yet noon.”

“The Morelands pay no attention to things like that.”

“I know,” Aunt Helena said darkly. “Well, if you must go, take your maid with you.”

“Aunt Helena…I hardly need a chaperone to go from here to Broughton House in broad daylight.”

“Of course not, dear. It’s how it would look.”

“Society’s rules are not so rigid anymore,” Lilah protested.

“That may be. But that’s no reason for us to lower our standards.”

“Poppy has several things to do—um, mending my clothes and, uh…”

“I wish I hadn’t sent Cuddington to the apothecary. She could accompany you.”

“No, no, I’ll take Poppy with me.” The last thing Lilah wanted was to drag her aunt’s dour maid along with her.

Lilah hurried upstairs, calling for her maid, and opened her wardrobe closet. Her casual morning dress would not do for paying a visit; it required something more stylish—this honey-colored walking dress with the rust-brown piping, for instance. It went well with the reddish-blond color of her hair, and the nipped-in waist gave her tall, willowy figure a more fashionable hourglass shape.

She could wear her new half boots. They were, perhaps, a trifle unusual, with their paisley print and curved line of gold buttons, but the colors went well with her dress, and anyway, no one would see them beneath her skirts. Well, except someone like Con, of course, who apparently made it a habit to keep an eye on ladies’ ankles. But that sort of man was not interested in either fashion or propriety.

She set off for the Morelands’ home, book in hand, Poppy trailing along a few steps behind her. It was annoying having to take her along. Perhaps Lilah should visit her home in Somerset, where she could hike wherever she wanted and not worry what society might think. It would provide her with an escape from the tedious round of courtesy calls—not to mention Sir Jasper’s attentions. She could relieve her boredom.

The problem, of course, was that Aunt Vesta was there. Lilah hadn’t stayed at Barrow House since her father’s sister had returned. Lilah had been fond of her as a child, but children were so undiscerning, so easily pleased. And Aunt Vesta hadn’t yet plunged the family into scandal.

Smeggars, the Morelands’ butler, greeted Lilah with a smile but said, “I fear the duchess is out today.”

“It was actually Lady St. Leger I wished to see.”

“Lady St. Leger is with the duchess.”

“I’m sorry. I should have inquired before I came,” Lilah said in disappointment.

“Perhaps you would like to speak with the duke or, um…”

“No, I’ll just leave this,” Lilah began, holding out the book.

At that moment Con came trotting lightly down the stairs. “Miss Holcutt.” He grinned. “The ladies are all out. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me.” He turned to the butler. “I think tea would be in order.”

“Of course, sir.”

“No,” Lilah protested as the butler left. “I mustn’t stay. I was going to the bookstore, and I remembered that Olivia—Lady St. Leger, that is—had expressed an interest in reading one of my books.” Lilah realized she was babbling and clamped her lips together. It was annoying that she should be so jittery and embarrassed at seeing Con again, whereas he was so obviously, so coolly unaffected.

“That sounds like Livvy.” Con reached out and took the book from her hands. “Ah, Wilkie Collins. Yes, she will enjoy reading it.”

“She said his stories were favorites of hers, but she had not read this one.”

“Please, sit down.” He took her arm without asking and steered her down the hall toward the sitting room. “All the women except Anna left earlier. Anna had one of her terrible headaches and had to stay behind.”

“I’m sorry.” Lilah resisted the urge to sit down as he had suggested. There was no reason to stay. She had run her errand. She shouldn’t sit down for a tête-à-tête alone with a man. Yet she lingered. “They’re on a shopping expedition?”

Con let out a crack of laughter. “No, Mother’s taken them to one of her suffragists’ dos. They’re standing vigil in front of Edmond Edmington’s house.”

“Edmond Edmington?” Lilah couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Yes, he had alliterative if unimaginative parents. Sit down, Miss Holcutt, please. Smeggars will be crushed if you don’t stay for tea and petits fours. He’s always trying to turn Mother’s meetings into parties, with little success.”

“No, I should be going. I was just—” She gestured toward the door, taking a step backward.

“Going to the bookstore. Yes, I know.” His eyes twinkled. “Come, Lilah, I won’t make any unwanted advances…not with Smeggars lurking about.”

What if they weren’t unwanted, she thought, then blushed at her wayward mind. “You would make some jest about it.”

“About what?” he asked innocently, moving closer.

“You know what.” She scowled. “What we—the other evening on the terrace.”

“Ah.” He leaned in, far too close for polite behavior. “You mean when we talked?” His eyes widened in mock shock. “Unchaperoned.”

“Yes.” Her word came out in little more than a whisper. Irritated, she cleared her throat and went on in a firm voice. “No. I mean it was more than that. We were—we almost…”

“Yes?” His eyes danced. “We almost…”

She had known he would tease her. She should not have come here. “Oh, stop it. Just leave me alone.”

“Of course.” He sighed and stepped back. It was what she wanted, yet perversely she felt let down at his easy acquiescence.

She should go now. It was silly to be so reluctant. Lilah drew a breath to say goodbye but was brought up short by a shout from upstairs. “Reed! Someone!”

“Anna!” Con ran from the room.

Lilah followed him. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Con was already halfway up the flight to his sister-in-law, who stood still and staring, her face deathly white.

“They’ve been taken!” Anna cried. “You have to save them.”

She folded after that pronouncement, and Con grabbed her, easing her down to sit on the stairs. “Here, put your head down. Just breathe. Slowly now.”

Steps pounded down the long stretch of the gallery, and Reed burst into view, his face almost as drained of color as his wife’s. “Anna! What happened? What’s the matter?”

Reed leaped up the stairs, pulling his wife into his arms and cradling her against his chest. Con stepped back. “Reed, she was saying—I think she’s having one of her visions.”

One of her visions?

Con’s words didn’t seem to shock Reed, who only cursed and continued to stroke Anna’s back. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.”

“No!” Anna pulled back. She had regained some of her color and her eyes were no longer wild, but she was clearly distressed. “You have to find them. You have to—”

“Who?” Con asked, his voice sharp. Lilah could see that his body was suddenly coiled tight as a spring. “Who is in trouble, Anna?”

“All of them!” She looked from her husband to Con and back. “The duchess. Kyria. Olivia. All of them. They’ve been kidnapped!”