“Tonight?” She saw his heart leap into his eyes.
Her own heart pounded at the thought of a night in each other’s arms. One precious night. She’d never thought to feel like this, hadn’t considered herself a woman driven by lust. Until Bennett.
“Yes, tonight.” She nodded toward Etta. “Uncle William thinks we’re staying overnight in Windsor. Ordering a wedding gown—as though I would care what I wore to wed Rand. Sackcloth would do.” She snorted. “For all his power, sometimes my uncle can be blind to a woman’s wiles.”
“He’s a man,” Etta put in with a nod of her curly gray head. “His wife could outwit him just as easily. A crafty woman she was, although she loved him too much to play him the fool very often.”
Margery had seen a loving side of Uncle William in the past, but right now she found it hard to summon loyalty. “Am I wrong, Bennett, for going behind his back?”
She’d warred with herself for days. Perhaps Rand’s mother had been the crafty sort, but Margery had always prided herself on her honesty.
Until now.
Now she was hiding a pregnancy and sneaking off to meet her lover, and she couldn’t find it in herself to feel guilt for either dishonest action. But she was also contemplating ruining two other lives to save Bennett’s, dooming both Rand and Lily to loveless futures…and that sparked enough guilt to make a nun dread the Day of Judgment.
One of her hands left Bennett’s body and went to her own belly as she prayed her child wouldn’t suffer for the sins of its mother.
Bennett’s gaze dropped to her middle, then flicked toward Etta.
“She knows,” Margery said. “She guessed.”
Etta’s big green eyes took on that wise-old-nurse look. “There are signs. Another woman would know.”
Bennett nodded. “No, you’re not wrong,” he murmured in answer to Margery’s earlier question. “The marquess is being unreasonable. He claims to love you, yet he plots to deprive your child of its father.”
One of his hands slipped from her waist to cover her fingers. She wished he could feel their child move, but even she hadn’t felt that yet. It was too early. Were it not for the signs Etta had mentioned, she’d have a hard time believing she even carried a babe.
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 the days and nights after that?
SIXTY-THREE
“I HAVE AN idea!” Lily shouted as she burst back into the library. “Maybe Rex can find the diary.”
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 diary 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 man.
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 diary.”
“He’s a fighter, not a hunter.” A more skeptical look had never graced a man’s face. “And there’s no diary 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 diary. 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
