Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(59)

Chapter Fifteen

Well, Julian thought to himself, that ought to have done it.

Pausing just long enough to remove his gloves and retrieve the pistol he’d stashed behind a loose stone, Julian jammed the weapon in his trouser waistband and set off down the street. He kept his steps light, forced himself to maintain a steady, deliberate pace. He didn’t want to be too hard to catch. Being caught was rather the point, after all.

He’d been preparing for this night all week. Astonishing—and rather lowering—to realize how little he’d needed to arrange at his home. His offices had presented a greater challenge. He’d led his employees to understand he’d be taking a journey to inspect the mills. That bought him a few weeks’ time. If he didn’t manage to return, in a few weeks’ time or ever … well, he’d left instructions with his solicitor. Someone would eventually find them.

As for Lily …

He couldn’t think about Lily now. And so long as he lived with the specter of murder hovering over him, he would never be able to think about her. After that waltz and her words—those miraculous words; so incomprehensible, he could have mistaken them for phrases in a foreign language, or the utterances of a mystic speaking in tongues—he’d been tempted to reconsider the whole plan. But it was too late. Events had been set in motion. He had to resolve this, for good or ill, if he had any hope of a future at all, much less a future that included Lily.

He would do it, Julian vowed. If Lily offered him love, he would give his all. He would solve this mystery. He would somehow fix everything, find the answers, redeem his every stupid mistake. He’d crawl through an ocean of broken glass just to hold her again, and hear her speak those words against his ear.

His ear caught a less pleasing sound just now. He’d nearly reached the end of the block, and a burst of noise arrested him where he stood. Footsteps clattered on the pavement, accelerating with purpose as they neared.

That hadn’t taken long.

He steeled himself, putting one hand to the pistol at his hip. The thing wasn’t even loaded. He needed answers, not a murder charge. He had no intention of shooting his would-be assassin. Yet.

“Julian! Julian, wait.”

No. By everything holy, no.

His heart crashed to his boots as he wheeled around to find not an assailant, but Lily rushing to his side.

“Lily, what the devil are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you,” she said, breathless. “If you’re determined to commit social suicide, I can’t stop you. But I’m coming with you. You’re not leaving me behind.”

Jesus. What did he do now? Julian grasped her by both shoulders and moved her to one side, looking past her to see if anyone had watched her leave.

“Have we been spotted?” she asked, intuiting his purpose. “I hope so.” She threw herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck. The pistol clattered to the pavement. “Compromise me. Leave no doubt. Let them see us together, and no one will think to object.”

He pushed her away to ask, “Lily, have you gone mad?”

“Mad for you.” With that, she planted a kiss on his mouth, ripe and bold and sensual. Julian’s head spun, and his knees went weak. She wanted him. Lily wanted him. More than that, she wanted to be his.

“A kiss won’t be enough.” She disentangled her arms from his neck. “We need more.”

Her hands went to her bodice. “There’s a fraying seam,” she said, running her fingers over her bosom in tantalizing fashion. “Ah—just here.” She worked her finger into a little gap and pulled, ripping the bodice and exposing one corseted breast to the night. “There. Now you’ve ravished me, you beast.” Smiling, she turned to look over her shoulder. “Are they coming yet?”

God. To her, this was all a game. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You’re in danger, every moment we stand here.”

“What, because of that scene you caused inside?”

Yes, because of that scene he’d caused inside. And because of the scenes he’d been inspiring all week long, in different venues. He’d made pointed remarks at the clubs, hinting at all his past sins. He’d taken jokes too far, beyond every boundary of well-meant humor. He’d even arranged for newspaper articles in which he claimed to be writing a salacious memoir. All his secrets would be revealed, he’d said, lamenting that he had but one thrilling experience missing from his life’s tale—a daybreak duel in St. James Park.

And though he doubted his would-be killer to be one of his paramours’ husbands, tonight he’d taken the extra step of enraging them as well. He’d done everything he could think of to provoke his enemy to action, and then he’d provided the perfect opportunity for him to strike. All London knew he would be attending this assembly tonight, and when he left it, he would be walking home alone. He’d all but painted a target on his waistcoat.

And now Lily had attached herself to his chest.

His eyes scanned the street. Everywhere he looked, darkness menaced. Shadows took creeping, malevolent shapes. His ears made a threat of every rustle and snap.

Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. He had to get her out of here.

Like a chariot sent from heaven above, a hackney cab turned the corner and started down their block. Julian hailed it and, without conversation, hefted Lily inside before the thing had even fully come to a stop. For an instant, he considered giving her address to the driver and sending her home alone—but then she might demand to be let out God-knows-where and return to this very spot again. In the past few days, Lily seemed to have added a few extra vertebrae to her already formidable spine.