A Lily Among Thorns(50)
And then Lord Hartleigh moved a little to the left and Serena’s heart thudded and sank. Sitting just behind him, in close and very amiable conversation with Sir Nigel Anchridge, was Solomon.
Chapter 12
Serena headed straight for him, ignoring Decker’s forceful sotto voce representations. “If you might give us a moment,” she said to Sir Nigel in freezing accents, and stared at him until he shrugged, grinned, and wandered off. Turning her gaze on Solomon, she saw him give Sir Nigel a conspiratorial wink. “Solomon, what the devil is going on here?” she asked in a furious undertone.
His brow wrinkled. He was wearing fetchingly disheveled riding gear that Serena had never seen before. “I’m sorry to disappoint such a lovely young man, but my name’s not Solomon.” He gave her a friendly leer. “However, since you’ve driven off my friend, perhaps I might be of service to you instead?” He was affecting a different accent, a little more Shropshire and less Cambridge, but she’d already heard him use it at St. Andrew of the Cross.
“I don’t give a damn how you choose to spend your spare time, but please have the courtesy not to lie to me to my face.” It occurred to her, painfully, that this explained the hundred and twenty-five pounds. Not to mention last night. He’d been so kind, so respectful—because he didn’t want her.
Solomon crossed a boot over his knee and tilted his head in just that way he had. “I’m very sorry, sir, but there’s been a mistake.” His right hand moved to rest lightly on his top-boot, and two things made Serena realize with a jolt that it was really not Solomon. For one thing, he evidently had a knife in his boot. For another, his hands were smooth and unstained. But they were unmistakably Solomon’s hands—
Serena’s eyes narrowed. “Elijah!” she hissed.
His left hand shot out and caught her by the wrist, and Elijah said pleasantly, “I’d be very much obliged to you if you didn’t use my name here.”
Her lips thinned. “Very well,” she said quietly. “I’d be very much obliged to you if you’d come with me. Your brother has spent the past year and however long mourning you, and I don’t plan to allow that to continue one moment longer than necessary. I have some business to conduct with our host, but I shall return shortly. I trust you’ll still be here—but should you choose to go, I can find you.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, sir, but you have the advantage of me. Who are you, exactly?”
She laid her palm flat on the table and leaned forward. “I am Lady Serena Ravenshaw.”
His brows rose, his eyes flickering to her bound breasts. “I see. Well, in that case I won’t cross you. The Thorn’s network of spies is legend.” He flashed her an engaging grin eerily like Solomon’s—and yet with rather more dash and conscious charm. She felt inexplicably unsettled.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said sharply, and gave him a last admonitory glare before returning to Decker, who stood watching her resignedly.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if I caused an upheaval at the Arms,” he grumbled.
Serena shrugged. “Don’t tell me your taproom has never seen a jealous lovers’ spat before. That’s all anyone thought it was.”
Decker gave her a sideways grin. “A lovers’ spat, Thorn? Is that the handsome tailor I hear you were kissing in a hallway a few nights ago?”
Serena raised an eyebrow. “Been listening to gossip, Fritz?”
“When do I listen to anything else? Can’t say I wasn’t pleased to hear it. You deserve some fun. I’ve a soft spot for tailors myself. Meticulous, that’s what they are.” He smiled reminiscently and blew his red nose into a cherry-striped handkerchief. “But if he’s having a bit on the side, I say boot him out.”
She was caught between Scylla and Charybdis. God only knew what Elijah was up to, lurking around pretending to be dead and seeming, for a corpse, rather dangerous. She could hardly reveal that he wasn’t Solomon. Nor could she announce that she and Solomon weren’t lovers, since, well, no one would believe it. Which meant Fritz Decker thought she was being cheated on, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was humiliating. “That’s not what we were discussing,” she said icily, and left it at that.
“Well, you always were one for keeping up a brave front,” Decker said cheerily. If only she were a man, no one would say things like that to her.