“Believe me, I know it.” Cal unstoppered the decanter on the sideboard, poured two large cognacs and gave one to Ned. “So tell me—was it Nixon?”
“It was. Tricked her into going outside at a party and shoved her into his coach. Drugged her too.” He told Cal as much as he knew about Lily’s abduction and eventual escape, leaving out the more sordid details—they were for her to share if she wanted.
“She rescued herself, you know,” he finished. “Escaped, despite the drug, and hid in a filthy ditch until he’d gone. Bastard was trying to run her down in his carriage when I came along. Matter of luck that I was there to stop him.” Ned sipped his cognac and stared into the flames. “Brave girl, your sister. You should be proud of her.”
“I am.” Cal frowned into his glass a moment. “I’m stunned by what you’ve told me. It’s hard to believe that my little Lily was so . . . resourceful. I’ve always thought of her as a bit helpless.”
Ned thought of what Lily had told him, how she’d worked to keep the feeling in her feet alive so she could run, how she’d blocked the mouth of the bottle with her tongue to prevent being drugged further, how she’d caught the fabric of her cloak in the catch of the lock. And afterward, she’d never once fallen into hysterics or had a fit of the vapors—as she would have been quite entitled to do. Helpless? Cal might love his sister, but he didn’t know her very well. “Quite an ordeal that filthy swine put her through. She seems to have weathered it remarkably well, but as you and I know, sometimes these things can hit you later when the danger and the drama have passed.”
Cal nodded. “I know. I’ll warn Emm. She and the girls will take good care of Lily.”
They sipped the fine French cognac and listened to the fire crackle and hiss.
“You really slept across her door, like a faithful hound?” Cal said after a few minutes.
“Wipe that smile off your face or I might be tempted to give you that punch after all,” Ned said lazily. “It was for her protection. And”—he took another sip of cognac—“because Elphingstone was sniffing around.”
Cal sat up. “Elphingstone! That little—”
“It’s all right. He knew something was up—I’d told the innkeeper she was my sister, but of course Elphingstone knows I don’t have a sister. But he never saw Lily’s face and we never used her name.”
“I notice you don’t use her title.”
Ned gave him a hard look. “I dropped it for the sake of discretion.” He held out his glass for Cal to refill. “The only person who might cause us problems is Lady Ampleforth—she saw us when we stopped to change horses, and put two and two together.”
“Blast! That old harridan is my aunt’s greatest rival.”
“Rival?” Ned was momentarily distracted. “For what?”
Cal gave him a wry look. “Dominance of the ton.”
Ned snorted. “At any rate she was heading away from London—going home to Herefordshire, I assume—so I doubt she’ll cause any trouble.” He sipped his cognac. “You managed to stifle any gossip at this end, I presume.”
“We’ve put it about that Lily is in bed with the influenza.”
“Good move. So we’ve handled it, then, and her life can go on as before.” He finished his cognac and rose. “I’ll be off, then.”
Cal rose and held out his hand. “I can’t thank you enough, Galbraith.”
“Nonsense. Anyone would have done the same. Pleasure to be of service to Lady Lily.” They shook hands.
Cal opened the front door. “I suppose you’ll be heading back up to that house party now.”
Ned shook his head. “No, gone off the idea. Think I’ll stay in town for a bit, see what’s to do.” He paused on the front step. “I take it you’ll be hunting for that swine, Nixon.”
“I will.”
“I’d like to help.”
Cal shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but you’ve done enough. It’s for me, as head of Lily’s family, to seek justice for my sister. Good night.” He stepped inside and closed the door.
It was a clear dismissal—and fair enough, Ned told himself. He wasn’t family. He had no right to be involved in whatever justice—or revenge—Cal was planning. He’d done what he could—helped the girl and returned her to the bosom of her family—and that was that. End of story.
Ned walked to his lodgings. It wasn’t far and the night was fine. Lily was safe in her own bed and all was right with her world again. He was free to go back to his own life.
So why did he feel so unaccountably flat?
Chapter Ten
I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
—WILLIAM CONGREVE, LOVE FOR LOVE
Lily stayed inside for the next few days, waiting impatiently for her bruise to fade. It was lovely to be home with her family again, but for some reason she felt restless and unsettled, and a bit bored.
It hadn’t helped that Edward—she had to address him as Mr. Galbraith now that they were back in society—hadn’t called. She hadn’t seen him since the night he’d brought her home. He’d sent her flowers—a small, exquisite bunch of primroses and violets—with a note saying he hoped she was recovering from her indisposition.
Indisposition? Emm’s view, when she read the note to Lily, was that he was being discreet, that he was maintaining the story they’d spread about Lily having the influenza.
Still, it was quite impersonal, coming from a man in whose arms she’d slept, dressed only in his shirt and wrapped in a soft fur rug, a man who’d kissed her on a cold and cloudy night.
Why hadn’t he visited?
She missed him.
Her family didn’t seem to think his absence in the least bit odd, even though Emm had specifically invited him to call the next day. They thought he had
