And yet she knew in her bones that Bennett’s child grew under her heart. And she could only be joyful for it.
“Uncle William doesn’t know I’m with child,” she said softly. “Because it wouldn’t make a difference. And should the unthinkable happen, I would want him to believe the child is Rand’s.”
The last word was said with a sob—a sob Bennett smothered with his mouth. Heedless of Etta watching, they both poured themselves into the kiss.
It wouldn’t be their last, Margery consoled herself when they finally parted. They still had tonight.
But what of all the many, many days and nights after that?
SIXTY-FIVE
“I HAVE AN idea!” Lily shouted as she burst back into the library. “Maybe Rex can find the journal.”
Up on a ladder, Rand turned to look down at her. “Rex? You mean Rex the dog, otherwise known as Attila?”
“Yes, Rex the dog. And no, I haven’t gone mad. Animals have a keen sense of smell, you know.”
Kit’s lips twitched. “I didn’t realize journals were smelly.”
Lily was so hopeful, she only laughed. “Alban’s would carry a specific scent. Come, let me show you what I mean.”
Rand and Kit exchanged a dubious glance but followed her out of the library.
On their way through the long gallery, Lily glared at Alban’s image. He wasn’t going to come between her and Rand and their happiness. Rex wouldn’t let her down.
Downstairs in the back parlor, Lord Hawkridge was examining the mastiff. When they walked in, he looked up from where he was kneeling—a very unlikely position for such a dignified gentleman.
Lily liked him the better for it. There was always hope for a man who loved animals.
He smiled, an expression that sat rather oddly on his face. “Attila appears to have fully recovered, Lady Lily. I’m very grateful. My thanks to you.”
“I would do my best for any living creature, but you’re quite welcome. He’s a special dog. In fact, I’m wondering if I might borrow him for a while.”
He rose to his feet. “Gratitude extends only so far, my lady. Attila lives here.”
Rand spoke up. “She doesn’t mean to take him away. Only to use him to help find the journal.”
“He’s a fighter, not a hunter.” A more skeptical look had never graced a man’s face. “And there’s no journal to be found.”
Rand crossed his arms, appearing ready to do battle, but Kit cleared his throat. “It’s a harmless enough request from one who has done you such a favor. Attila will stay in the house. The exercise will do him good after his ordeal.”
“Exercise is all he’ll get—he won’t be finding any journal. But I suppose it’s harmless enough. So long as he stays indoors. I plan to keep him inside overnight.”
Lily beamed. “A kind and wise decision, my lord.” She snapped her fingers. “Rex, follow me.”
“His name is Attila,” the marquess called after them.
She led Rand, Kit, and the dog across the marble-floored great hall and through to Alban’s suite. Once there, she patted the bed. “Up!” she commanded, and the huge animal landed where she wanted—with a leap that made the bed ropes groan.
Rand grinned. “My father would kill you if he saw this.”
“Nonsense. Your father adores me. I saved his favorite dog.” She grinned in return, stroking the animal’s stiff fur. “Kit, would you run to the kitchen and fetch some meat? Cut into cubes, if possible.”
He made her a mock bow. “By all means. Even the exalted marquess believes you walk on water, so your wish is my command.”
As he marched to do her bidding, she giggled. In spite of everything, she giggled. “This is going to work, Rand. I know it.”
Holding one bedpost, he leaned to press a kiss to her lips. “Don’t get your hopes up, will you? Even if we find a recent journal, I’ll have to translate it, and we’ll have to hope it turns out to be incriminating. And then we’ll have to convince the marquess it says what I claim it does—unlikely to be a simple task—and that such evidence merits freeing Bennett and allowing Margery to wed him. We’re a long way from victory, sweetheart.”
“But we’re about to take the first step. I feel it.”
When Kit returned with a bowl of meat, she took Alban’s fancy silver inkwell and held it to Rex’s nose. “Journal,” she said clearly.
“That’s not a journal—” Rand started.
“Hush. I’m going to have him smell journals, too, and I don’t want to confuse him. One word for a scent is enough.” She fed the dog a piece of meat, then waved the inkwell beneath his nose again. “Journal. Journal.” She fed him more meat, then snapped her fingers. “Down. Come along. You, too,” she said to the gentlemen.
Rand barked, eliciting a hoot of laughter from Kit as they followed her.
She hurried back upstairs to the library and through to the small room beyond, Rex trotting by her side. Once there, she took down a stack of Alban’s journals. “Sniff, Rex. Journal.” She opened one and held it under his nose, then another and another. Each time he sniffed a page, she fed him another reward. “Journal. Journal.”
Kit and Rand just looked at each other and shrugged.
After the dog had sniffed a dozen different journals and received a dozen treats, Lily leaned to look into his eyes. “Journal. Find another journal. Now, Rex. Go.”
Without hesitation, the mastiff bolted from the room.
They all ran after him.
Back downstairs, through the great hall, into Alban’s bedchamber. By the time they caught up, the three of them were panting harder than the dog.
“Journal,” Lily reminded him.
He went straight to the silver inkwell.
She released a strangled laugh. “Good, Rex.” She fed him a piece of meat, holding the inkwell out to Rand. “Will you take this out of here? He’ll never
