Darling Beast (Maiden Lane #7)(67)

“ ‘Disembowel the deceiver.’ ‘Disembowel the deceiver,’ ” Stanford muttered to himself before nodding and resuming his pose. “ ‘I shall disembowel the deceiver so that ne’er again may he so deceive again.’ ”

Lily winced. It wasn’t exactly her best line, but then she’d written the second half of the play in only one week. Her first play had taken a year to write.

Of course, she’d burned it after that.

“Darlings!”

She turned at the voice and stared, hardly believing her eyes. Edwin stood in the doorway, arms thrown wide, in a new sky-blue satin suit, apparently expecting his usual welcome.

Well, and she supposed he had cause to. Moll and the other actresses rushed to him, Moll cooing over him. Stanford and John approached more slowly, but they were equally admiring in their own way.

Ridiculous to pout. No one but her and her brother knew that she was the real playwright.

“Robin, sweetheart,” Edwin called, strutting toward her.

Lily repressed the urge to roll her eyes at him. He was always careful to call her by her stage name in the company of others, even when all the other actors knew quite well what her real name was.

She submitted to a buss on her cheek and then smiled sweetly at him. “Might I have a moment of your time, brother dear?”

“Naturally.” He glanced about to let the other actors know what a doting older brother he was.

“Alone.”

The first inkling that something might not be right seemed to seep into his eyes. “Erm… certainly.”

She rose, set down the pages, and led him into the small antechamber, closing the door quite firmly behind them.

“What—?” he began, but she cut him off quite satisfyingly with a slap across his face.

“Lily!” His eyes were wide and hurt, his hand to the side of his face.

She set her hands on her hips. “Don’t you ‘Lily’ me, Edwin Stump!”

“I don’t understand,” he tried.

So she slapped him again. “You set the soldiers on Apollo. They might’ve taken him to Bedlam—or hanged him. All because you were miffed that he’d thrown you out of the theater.”

“I wasn’t miffed,” he said, drawing himself up and straightening his white wig, which had become rather askew. “I was worried about your safety.”

“My safety?” She knew her mouth was agape, but she just couldn’t help it. Edwin could be such a prize ass sometimes—and what was worse, he seemed to be under the delusion that she was a simpleton. “Are you insane?”

“No, but he is.” Edwin backed up a step. “A deranged killer! Everyone has heard.”

“He is not a deranged killer,” she said very, very softly as she crowded Edwin into a corner of the room. “And you know it quite well. You’re being spiteful—and you’re hurting me.”

He’d already opened his mouth for a retort, but his eyebrows drew together at that. “What? Hurting you?”

“Yes, hurting me, Edwin,” she said patiently. “I like Lord Kilbourne, and I find your cruelty toward him—and me—quite unforgivable. He’s here, at this house party.”

“I noticed him just now in the breakfast room,” Edwin said sulkily. “He’s taken the ridiculous name Mr. Smith.”

“He’s here to look for the real murderer. I don’t want you to even think about turning him in again, do you hear?”

“I…” He gulped. “But Lily…”

“Not even accidentally, Edwin.”

He dipped his chin, looking a bit shocked. “Yes, very well.”

“Good.” She turned to go because anything else she said at this point would not be conducive to a good future relationship with her brother, but Edwin caught her arm.

“Lily…” He cleared his throat nervously. “I think I ought to warn you.”

She looked at him and saw his forehead was shining with sweat. A feeling of sick dread settled low in her belly. Had he already told someone about Apollo? “What is it?”

He swallowed. “Richard Perry, Baron Ross is here.”

Chapter Fifteen

For at the heart of the labyrinth was a wild and beautiful garden. Vines climbed over tumbled stones, so worn they might’ve fallen millennia ago. Gnarled trees twisted between the stones, branches thrust upward and covered in emerald leaves. At the center of the clearing lay a still, blue pool with small white and yellow flowers scattered along its mossy bank. But the monster lay there as well, sprawled half in the pool, his blood dyeing the waters red…

—From The Minotaur

Apollo strode into the drawing room where the actors had decided to put on their play. They were gathered there, Moll Bennet at one end with her arms raised as she spoke her lines. She glanced at him as he entered, winked, and jerked her head in the direction of a small door to the side of the room.

He nodded as he changed his course for the door. He and Moll had become friends the night before when he’d talked her into abandoning the room she shared with Lily.

He could hear voices as he drew near. Lily saying, “… Indio…” and Edwin hissing in reply.

Apollo pulled the door open sharply and Edwin Stump nearly fell into his arms. He pushed the man back inside, stepped in, and shut the door behind him.