A Scot in the Dark (Scandal & Scoundrel #2)(54)

Lily swallowed, her mouth suddenly quite dry, but did her best to pretend that this morning was perfectly normal. That he hadn’t rendered her a speechless puddle of desire the night before.

Don’t think of the puddle of desire bit.

“He’s a good boy. He deserves to be spoiled.”

Alec grunted, placing a forkful of ham on his plate alongside several roasted tomatoes. Lily waited for him to say more, to no avail.

She pushed her food around her plate with her fork, pretending to be deeply invested in the morsels there, as he finished serving himself and came to the table, taking the seat at the far end.

As far from her as possible.

Granted, it was the seat that had been set for his arrival, but still. He could have come closer.

A footman came from nowhere—apparently Dog House had been staffed with speed and efficiency—and filled Alec’s cup with steaming tea.

“Thank you,” he said, and the poor servant didn’t quite know what to say.

Lily wanted to tell the liveried man that he should be grateful the duke spoke to him, as apparently she did not rate conversation. Not even after the previous evening.

Not even after he’d left her senseless in a carriage.

It was no good. She wasn’t going to be able to avoid thinking of it. Indeed, every time she looked at him, she could feel his palm against hers, his hands lifting her as though she weighed nothing. His arms around her. His lips on hers. His tongue. His fingers.

The room was suddenly uncomfortably warm.

Alec, for his part, seemed utterly comfortable, casually draped into the massive wooden chair at the head of the table, looking like lord of the manor, despite dining off plates adorned with scenes of a fox hunt, using silver etched with canine imagery. Indeed, he ate like a starving man, his appetite clearly unaffected by her presence.

Lily, on the other hand, felt as though she might cast up her accounts in the heavy silence that fell over the room.

Sensing her distaste for her food, Hardy sighed, setting his head on her lap and looking up at her with forlorn eyes, as though reminding her that he was there, and eager to help. She sneaked him a piece of sausage.

Angus noticed from his place at his master’s right hand and immediately came to her opposite side, licking his chops. She found a piece of meat for him, as well.

“They’ll never leave you alone now.” She looked up to find Alec remained riveted to his food, not looking at her.

Now, Lily found she was irritated. “At least the hounds acknowledge me.”

He stilled, fork halfway to his mouth, and Lily was rather proud of herself for speaking up. He looked to her, his brown eyes glittering like whisky in crystal. “What does that mean?”

“Only that their master appears unable to find the decency to say good morning.”

He set his fork down and turned to the trio of servants attempting to fade into the wall at the end of the room. “Leave us.”

They did not hesitate, closing the door in their wake with a quiet snick that seemed to reverberate through the room, sending Lily’s heart into her throat.

Would he kiss her again? Would he do more?

It was terribly early for it, wasn’t it?

She imagined him crossing the room to pull her from her chair, to set his large, beautiful hands to her face and to take her lips, showing her once more what he showed her last night—that lovemaking could be wild and free and mad and delicious.

Not that she cared if he did. She didn’t want it.

He watched her for a long moment in the silence before he said, “Good morning, Lillian.” There was nothing teasing or condescending in the words. Just a simple, civilized greeting.

Except something about it made Lily feel entirely uncivilized. And very petulant. “There. It wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“It was not. I apologize. Again.”

Again.

I’m sorry, Lily. For everything.

“For what?”

He blinked. “For . . .” He trailed off.

“For forgoing a proper good morning?”

“Among other things.”

She stabbed a tomato with her fork, enjoying the way the juice of it oozed out the side. It was gruesome and macabre, if one really thought too much about it, and Lily was finding herself more and more in the mood for the gruesome and macabre.

“What other things?” She shouldn’t ask. She knew that. But still she could not resist it.

He did not hesitate to answer. “For my part in this disastrous play.”

“Which part is that?” She was rather proud of herself for holding his feet to the fire.

He looked to her, knowing immediately what she was doing. Impressively, he did not back down. “The part that threatened you with more scandal.”

“I was in scandal long before you went after him. Derek and I were not exactly clandestine in our friendship. Add you to it, and the gossip pages gave me nicknames, for heaven’s sake.”

“Add me to it?”

She waved a hand. “Lovely Lily when I was out and about with Derek, but when I was seen in Hyde Park, or on Oxford Street, or anywhere else, I was Lonesome Lily—”

He cut her off. “What do I have to do with that?”

“The Woeful Ward.”

He muttered beneath his breath, his eyes flashing with anger. “I didn’t know—”