Darling Beast (Maiden Lane #7)(77)

Well, and that was the question, wasn’t it? Apollo thought as he took a bitter sip of coffee. Should he be trusting the duke with anything at all?

He glanced again at his cousin, blithely drinking his tea. George had said that Vance hadn’t been in William’s employ four years ago. But that didn’t mean William couldn’t have known Vance at the time of the murders. And, of course, George might’ve simply lied. Perhaps father and son had acted together. After all, it was to George’s benefit as well should Apollo be hanged.

Apollo shook his head, taking a bite of coddled eggs. If only he had concrete evidence against his uncle.

That decided him.

He had to take another chance at his uncle’s study—tonight.

APOLLO WAS IN her rooms again when Lily returned that night. She should have been outraged at his presumption, but all she felt was happiness tinged with sadness.

She doubted that they’d last much beyond this house party. He’d find the murderer and justice and return to his life, she was sure of it. Apollo had a sort of calm resolve that she’d seen before in men who got what they wanted. He was born to be an earl and he would be someday.

An actress had no place in such a life.

As the days of the party passed, so too did their time together.

“You look pensive,” he said quietly, holding his hand out from where he lay on the bed. He wore only his shirt and breeches.

She went to him without protest. Why pretend when they really had so little time left together?

He gathered her against him, her back to his front, and began plucking the pins from her coiffure. “Have I told you how much I admire your hair?”

“It’s just plain brown,” she murmured.

“Plain, lovely brown,” he replied, raising a lock he’d freed to his face.

“Are you smelling my hair?” she asked in amusement.

“Yes.”

“Silly man,” she said lightly.

“Smitten man,” he corrected, spreading her hair over her shoulders. “I’ve been watching you today.”

“In between escorting Miss Royle about the garden?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Yes. I’d rather it’d been you, but that wouldn’t’ve been prudent.” He frowned down at the strands of her hair caught between his fingers. “Or, perhaps, safe.”

She stilled. “What do you mean?”

“My uncle commented that I looked like my grandfather today, and then later Montgomery said some rather unwise words to my cousin.”

She turned all the way so she could see his face clearly. There was a small dent between his brows. “They’ve discovered who you are?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not. My uncle suspects, I think, but only that. As for my cousin…” He trailed away, shaking his head. “That I simply don’t know.”

“You need to be careful,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. “Your uncle killed before to prevent you gaining your title. There’s nothing to stop him doing so again.”

“I can take care of myself,” he said, smiling indulgently down at her.

“Don’t be a fool,” she whispered urgently. “No man can withstand a bullet.”

His smile slipped from his face. “You’re right.” He kissed her forehead. “Now tell me why Ross is troubling you.”

She blinked at the sudden assault. “There’s nothing. I—”

“Lily.” He trailed his fingers along her hairline. “I care for you. I would protect you if I can. Please tell me.”

She opened her mouth and then shut it again. In a little while they would part and probably never see each other again. Did she really owe him anything when such was the situation?

But in this time—this stolen time before all that would come next—they were close. If things had been otherwise, she might’ve made this man her husband. Might’ve borne his children, kept his home, slept beside him night after night until they both had white hair.

Perhaps in this in-between time she did owe him the truth.

So she laid her head on his chest and listened to his reassuring heartbeat as she spoke.

“When I was little, living in various theaters with my mother, there was another girl my age. Her name was Kitty and she was my friend. Both her mother and her father were actors and I suppose we grew up together. Kitty had flaming red hair and blue eyes and when she laughed, her nose scrunched up so adorably. Once she was old enough she always played the heroine. She was funny and kind and I loved her. She was very fond of seedcake, I remember. Maude would sometimes smuggle a small cake in for us especial and we would have a tea party behind the stage as my mother and her parents worked in whatever play they were in at the time.”

Apollo stroked her hair, not commenting. She wondered if he had any idea what it was like to have a friend when one was as alone in the midst of many people as she’d been growing up. How very attached one could become to that person.

“When we were both seventeen,” Lily continued, “Kitty met a man—a man outside the theater and far from our world. An aristocrat.” She fingered one of the buttons on Apollo’s shirt, remembering. “He was handsome and rich, but most importantly, it seemed to us, was that he was so terribly taken with her. We were girls, of course, and even though we’d grown up in the theater, we knew very little of life. It never even occurred to me to be worried. I remember Maude making a comment once—that blue blood and common red blood don’t easily mix—but we disregarded her. It was so romantic, you understand. He would come and stand by the backstage door, once even in the rain. He said he loved her and we believed him. How could we not? Isn’t love standing in the rain and showering a girl with flowers and jewels?”