A Scot in the Dark (Scandal & Scoundrel #2)(68)

“And did you see the look on his face when he saved her?” Seleste interjected with a sigh. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone so obviously out of his mind with emotion.”

Seline smirked. “I was so distracted by it that I entirely forgot to see what he was wearing beneath his skirts.”

Sesily pointed to her sister. “Oh, bollocks. I did, as well.” Lord Stanhope coughed. “Apologies, my lord. But, curiosity and all that.”

Stanhope’s brows rose. “Naturally.”

Lily was stuck on the tale of Alec’s concern. Her brow furrowed. “What nonsense. He left me. With you lot.” She paused. “No offense.”

“None taken,” the quartet said in unison.

Breathe, mo chridhe. She didn’t understand the words, but she’d heard the concern in them, even the promise in them. That he was with her. That he would take care of her. That she was not alone.

And then he’d left her.

“Not that I care he left me,” Lily said, feeling as though she needed to underscore the point.

“Of course not,” Stanhope said, and she had the distinct impression that, though he’d said the gentlemanly thing, he did not believe her.

Sesily was decidedly less gentlemanly, instead cutting Lily a disbelieving look. “Please. When Warnick disappeared, you looked as crestfallen as a babe without her sweets.”

Lily stood at that, irrationally irritated. “Nonsense,” she repeated again. “He doesn’t give a whit about me. He only wants me married so he can return to his life in Scotland. He doesn’t even care to whom.” She turned to the earl. “No offense, my lord.”

Stanhope smirked. “None taken.”

Lily nodded. “I only agreed to the ruddy plan because of the ruddy painting. It’s going to be revealed, and my ruin will be final, and Alec won’t give me the funds to leave because he’s convinced I must be married. That I wish to be married.”

“Do you?” Sesily asked. “Wish to be married?”

Yes. But to another.

“No. Not like this.” She looked to the earl. “Again, no offense, my lord.”

Stanhope grinned, seeming to be enjoying himself immensely. “Again, none taken.”

The afternoon had apparently unlocked Lily, and she could not stop speaking her thoughts aloud. “The point is, I don’t wish to saddle some nice man with a betrothal that will end in disgrace, or to . . .” She paused. “Or to . . .”

She stopped, mind whirling.

“Or to?” Sesily prodded.

The solution crystallized.

She looked to Sesily, then to Stanhope. “I must go.”



That evening, Lily did not attend supper at Dog House.

Alec arrived on time and took his place at the head of the table, waiting for minutes that stretched into half an hour. As the time passed, he prepared himself for the confrontation that was sure to come—the explanation of his deserting her in the center of Hyde Park in the wake of her peril, all of London looking on. Of what he’d been thinking.

The truth was, he’d been thinking of nothing but chasing down the imbecile who’d entered Hyde Park on a horse he could not control. The moment Alec had made certain that Lily was alive, breathing, and would be well, he’d headed for the nearest horse, pulled some pompous aristocrat down, and, with barely a word, headed off in the direction of the runaway steed, leaving the baron he’d upended sputtering in anger.

It hadn’t made him feel any better about the situation, which had sent his heart straight to his throat as he’d watched the horse bear down upon her, running at full tilt, desperate to get to her and terrified that he might not reach her in time. And then he’d had her in his arms and it hadn’t mattered where they were or who was watching; all he’d cared was that she was safe.

He’d loathed the panic in her eyes when she’d struggled to regain her breath, he’d wanted to chase it away, and then do serious damage to the man who’d been responsible for it.

He’d caught up with the rider—a young man barely out of school who was as frightened as he was unskilled, even before Alec arrived to frighten him more. When he’d returned to find Lily, she’d been gone, returned home by the ladies Talbot, he’d been told when he burst through the front door of the Dog House. Returned, along with both hounds.

Angus had been there to meet him, but Hardy, the four-legged traitor, had obviously cloistered himself with Lily.

Alec had assumed he’d be reunited with his missing housemates at the evening meal, but as thirty minutes had turned into forty-five and then a full hour, he’d realized that, once again, Lillian Hargrove had left him alone for a meal.

If he wished to speak to her, he was going to have to go looking for her.

Also, to retrieve his errant hound.

Exiting the dining room, Angus on his heels, he nearly ran down the aging, curious housekeeper.

“Your Grace!” she announced, as though she hadn’t been loitering in the hallway beyond, no doubt wondering what he was doing, alone, in the dining room.

He had no patience for pleasantries. “Where is she?”

Mrs. Thrushwill’s eyes went wide. “Your Grace?”

He looked to the ceiling and begged for patience. “Miss Hargrove. Where is she?”