Darling Beast (Maiden Lane #7)(59)

So she threw herself into the conversation, making sure never to glance in Apollo’s direction again. Whatever he was about, it was certainly no business of hers. How could it be, after all, when he was an aristocrat and she a mere actress?

When, hours later, she finally climbed the stairs to the room she shared with Moll, she was weary to the bone with trying to appear carefree and witty. Witty! There was a word she never wanted to hear again, she thought darkly as she made her way down the hallway. Wittiness was terribly exhausting.

It would be nice to let down her guard, alone with Moll.

But when she opened the door to their room she found herself very much mistaken. Moll was nowhere to be seen.

And Viscount Kilbourne lounged upon the bed.

Chapter Thirteen

The skeleton was small and sad, lying in a heap of frayed blue robes. Pink beads lay scattered over the remains. The girl driven into the labyrinth the year before had worn a necklace of pink beads. Ariadne knelt by the skeleton’s side and, saying an old prayer her mother had taught her, sprinkled dust on the remains. Then, rising, she continued deeper into the labyrinth…

—From The Minotaur

Lily stopped dead in the doorway to her room and then took a step back.

Apollo cocked his head. It’d been a very long day full of trepidation mixed with tediousness and he’d used up all his patience. “If you leave, I’ll follow you out and we’ll have this discussion in the hallway where everyone can hear.”

She scowled ferociously at him, but came all the way in the room and shut the door. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Yes,” he said patiently, “there is.”

She looked away and down for a second and then back at him. “Your voice is better.”

He inclined his head. “It’s been a fortnight.” His voice was still rusty and his throat ached on occasion, but he no longer had to take so long to speak. “Where is Indio?”

“I left him with Maude.” She wrapped her arms around her waist.

“In the garden?”

“No. They’re visiting Maude’s niece outside London while I’m here.” She looked at him pointedly. “Why are you here?”

He stretched and folded his arms beneath his head. “You walked away when I tried to talk to you during the party. I thought since you wouldn’t come to me…” He shrugged.

“Moll will be back soon.”

“No. I gave her enough coin to stay away for the night.”

Her eyes widened in outrage. “You can’t do that! Where will she stay? She’s been looking forward all day to a nice bed.”

“Well, I did offer her mine.”

“Humph.” She pursed her lips, still not mollified. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll not be staying the night in any case. Besides,” she hurried on before he could object, “you misunderstood my original question: why are you here at the house party?”

“To find the real murderer,” he said wearily. Frankly, after two weeks of the subject, he’d grown a little tired of it. He gestured to a chair. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Because it would be quite improper,” she said, and he wondered if she actually thought that or was simply making up etiquette rules out of thin air. “How are you going to find a murderer at a house party?”

“We think it’s my uncle.” He looked at her appraisingly. “You must be tired.”

She lifted her chin. “We?”

“Montgomery, Trevillion, and Harte—Makepeace, that is.”

She stared at him in horror, letting her arms drop. “You’ve trusted the Duke of Montgomery with your secret? Have you gone completely mad?”

“No, I’m just very desperate. Besides, I never told it to him—he somehow figured it out on his own.” He took a breath. “Lily, I don’t want to talk of this right now. I want to…” He sat up and pushed his hands through his hair. “You know what I’m charged with?”

“If I hadn’t before this night, I would after that dinner,” she said tartly.

He stared at her, licking his lips. “You must know that I didn’t do it.”

She gave him her profile. “Must I?”

“Lily…”

“You left us without word.”

“They were watching the garden,” he replied, his voice steady. “I couldn’t get you a message without the soldiers realizing you knew me.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said, and her face was harder than he’d ever seen it. “If you’d truly wanted to, you could have smuggled a message to Maude as she shopped or given it to one of the gardeners, or found a thousand other ways.”

He simply looked at her. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he could’ve gotten her word if he’d only tried hard enough. But he’d been busy with the plan, with the knowledge that until he could come to her a free man, he had nothing at all to offer her.

His very silence seemed to be some sort of answer to her. She lifted her chin proudly. “If we meant anything to you, you’d have gotten us word that you were alive.”

“You mean a great deal to me,” he said, low.