Grace, get off. Please!”
She received no response to that, either. With a shudder of distaste, Lilith grabbed a handful of his gray hair and lifted his head off her shoulder and neck. His eyes and mouth were half open, a thin froth of spittle around his lips. She shoved with all her might, but only succeeded in further tangling his limp hand into her hair.
Lilith reached up to grasp the back of the couch and tried to pull herself out from under Wenford, but he was nearly twice her weight, and she couldn’t budge herself an inch—which left her three choices. Call Bevins and risk an even more enormous scandal, or hope Wenford rose from whatever stupor he had fallen into and that he would climb off her before she smothered. Or, she could lie there beneath the duke until her family returned home, and hope that no one opened the door to the morning room until then.
The door rattled and opened.
“It’s no worry, Bevins, I’ll only be a moment,” came the deep voice of the Marquis of Dansbury. “William made off with one of my gloves. I’m certain he left it in here.”
Lilith shut her eyes, a wave of hysteria running over her. She prayed fervently that he wouldn’t notice anything.
“Miss Benton? Your Grace?” he called. “I hope I’m not…” His voice trailed off. “Anyone here?” he asked. “Children, servants, small animals?” He chuckled. “Ladybirds? High flyers?”
“Go away,” she said succinctly.
His footsteps approached the couch and then abruptlystopped. “My apologies, Wenford, Miss Benton,” he said after a moment, an odd edge to his voice. The footsteps turned away again.
“Stop!” she ordered frantically. He couldn’t possibly mean to leave her there!
He stopped. “Yes, my lady?”
“Come back here and assist me, at once!”
A pause. “ Assist you?”
“Immediately!” She held her breath, praying now that he had barged in, the devil wouldn’t abandon her.
“I had no idea you were so adventurous, Miss Benton,” he said coolly, both his footsteps and the hard cynicism in his voice returning. “I think I should tell you, though, I generally don’t share.” Jack Faraday’s face appeared over the back of the couch. His dark eyes met hers, his expression unreadable. “However, in this instance…” Abruptly he frowned and reached down to put his fingers across the duke’s neck. “Sweet Lucifer,” he murmured.
She took a breath. “Is he…” Lilith couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too terrible to utter aloud.
“Dead as mutton,” Dansbury stated calmly. “Hopped the twig. Put to bed with a shovel. Tipped all—”
“Enough!” she demanded frantically. “Help me!”
The marquis strode around the front of the couch, leaned over to take Wenford around the waist, and hauled backward. “So this is why you decided to forgo Billington’s,” he grunted. The duke slid off her and onto the floor, landing with a dull thud. “You might have told me I was merely too young for your taste. If I’d known you preferred old men, I might have powdered my hair.”
“I would only have found you old and loathsome,” Lilith snapped, as she shakily climbed to her feet. Her heart hammering fiercely, she swayed unsteadily.
Suddenly the marquis was beside her, cupping her elbow in one hand. “Perhaps you should take a seat,” he suggested quietly.
Her legs did feel terribly weak, and she didn’t object when Dansbury’s strong, warm hands guided her to the chair by the window and helped her into it. She shut her eyes, and his touch left her. No doubt the blackguard had fled out to the streets to shout his news to anyone who would listen.
“Here, Lilith,” he said from right beside her.
Her eyes snapped open. Dansbury was squatting beside her, a glass of brandy in one hand and his eyes on her face. With a shuddering glance at the figure sprawled on the carpet, she took a long, grateful swallow.
“Better?” he asked after a moment.
Sputtering from the
She received no response to that, either. With a shudder of distaste, Lilith grabbed a handful of his gray hair and lifted his head off her shoulder and neck. His eyes and mouth were half open, a thin froth of spittle around his lips. She shoved with all her might, but only succeeded in further tangling his limp hand into her hair.
Lilith reached up to grasp the back of the couch and tried to pull herself out from under Wenford, but he was nearly twice her weight, and she couldn’t budge herself an inch—which left her three choices. Call Bevins and risk an even more enormous scandal, or hope Wenford rose from whatever stupor he had fallen into and that he would climb off her before she smothered. Or, she could lie there beneath the duke until her family returned home, and hope that no one opened the door to the morning room until then.
The door rattled and opened.
“It’s no worry, Bevins, I’ll only be a moment,” came the deep voice of the Marquis of Dansbury. “William made off with one of my gloves. I’m certain he left it in here.”
Lilith shut her eyes, a wave of hysteria running over her. She prayed fervently that he wouldn’t notice anything.
“Miss Benton? Your Grace?” he called. “I hope I’m not…” His voice trailed off. “Anyone here?” he asked. “Children, servants, small animals?” He chuckled. “Ladybirds? High flyers?”
“Go away,” she said succinctly.
His footsteps approached the couch and then abruptlystopped. “My apologies, Wenford, Miss Benton,” he said after a moment, an odd edge to his voice. The footsteps turned away again.
“Stop!” she ordered frantically. He couldn’t possibly mean to leave her there!
He stopped. “Yes, my lady?”
“Come back here and assist me, at once!”
A pause. “ Assist you?”
“Immediately!” She held her breath, praying now that he had barged in, the devil wouldn’t abandon her.
“I had no idea you were so adventurous, Miss Benton,” he said coolly, both his footsteps and the hard cynicism in his voice returning. “I think I should tell you, though, I generally don’t share.” Jack Faraday’s face appeared over the back of the couch. His dark eyes met hers, his expression unreadable. “However, in this instance…” Abruptly he frowned and reached down to put his fingers across the duke’s neck. “Sweet Lucifer,” he murmured.
She took a breath. “Is he…” Lilith couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too terrible to utter aloud.
“Dead as mutton,” Dansbury stated calmly. “Hopped the twig. Put to bed with a shovel. Tipped all—”
“Enough!” she demanded frantically. “Help me!”
The marquis strode around the front of the couch, leaned over to take Wenford around the waist, and hauled backward. “So this is why you decided to forgo Billington’s,” he grunted. The duke slid off her and onto the floor, landing with a dull thud. “You might have told me I was merely too young for your taste. If I’d known you preferred old men, I might have powdered my hair.”
“I would only have found you old and loathsome,” Lilith snapped, as she shakily climbed to her feet. Her heart hammering fiercely, she swayed unsteadily.
Suddenly the marquis was beside her, cupping her elbow in one hand. “Perhaps you should take a seat,” he suggested quietly.
Her legs did feel terribly weak, and she didn’t object when Dansbury’s strong, warm hands guided her to the chair by the window and helped her into it. She shut her eyes, and his touch left her. No doubt the blackguard had fled out to the streets to shout his news to anyone who would listen.
“Here, Lilith,” he said from right beside her.
Her eyes snapped open. Dansbury was squatting beside her, a glass of brandy in one hand and his eyes on her face. With a shuddering glance at the figure sprawled on the carpet, she took a long, grateful swallow.
“Better?” he asked after a moment.
Sputtering from the
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