Chapter Sixteen

Later that evening, the hackney cab slowed outside of Lily’s townhouse, the wheels rattling on the street cobbles. With a casual toss of his wrist, Adam scattered bright coins on the cushion, the metal of which glinted in the light of a streetlamp filtering through the open window. Lily pressed her lips together, her stomach turning at the expense.

“I still say we ought to have walked.”

The driver opened the door, having turned down the steps. Adam paused on the edge of his seat, paying her half a glance. “You have a persona to maintain. And besides, it’s been a long night.”

That was an understatement. And to think, Lily would have to suffer through at least one more such dinner party when she and Adam returned to Lord Granby’s house to actually steal the artifact. At least now she had held it in her palm, measured the weight and dimensions of it for herself.

Although she still seethed with irritation toward him, the bulk of her anger had burned away during the course of their research. Not to mention their second kiss. Did he want her or didn’t he? Adam was so difficult to read.

“Thank you for your help tonight.” She was surprised to find how much she meant those words. He never diminished her contribution, never treated her as if she were somehow capable of less than he. When they were together, she felt as if no barrier was insurmountable.

That attitude and the way he made her feel was what had drawn her to him years ago. Yet, he was a different man today, less willing to pander to those around him and seek out their goodwill. The only opinion he seemed to care about was Lily’s. It was as though he had learned to find happiness in a simpler way of life.

Had he ever found that coastal cottage, where no one in the world could have interfered with them? If he had, he had used her dowry to purchase it.

And like tinder to a flame, the anger flared to life again.

Adam caught her hand and kissed her knuckles, his mouth warm. “I will always help where I can, Lily. We’re partners.”

She melted again. This battle of emotions was exhausting.

Sighing deeply, Lily waited for Adam to disembark and she accepted his help when he offered. She tugged her shawl higher to ward away the cool evening. As the wheels of the hack rattled on the cobblestones, announcing its departure, Lily wearily turned toward her door. She wanted nothing more than to fall into an exhausted sleep.

A shadow separated from the corner of the house. Reid, his face a forbidding mask.

“Leave us.”

Adam’s muscles bunched beneath Lily’s hand. His body all but sang with the urge to do violence. Adam was not a man one ordered to do anything. He commanded every room.

“Reid…”

Despite the difference in size, Reid stormed closer, never once lifting his gaze from Adam. “Leave. I must talk with Lily alone.”

Lily’s stomach shriveled like a prune. Tentatively, she removed her hand from Adam’s arm and cast a wary glance at his expression. It gave nothing away, as calm and composed as her elder sister. He stared Reid down a moment more, flexing his hand at his side. When he turned to Lily, his eyes crackled with promise.

“Do you wish to speak to him alone, darling?”

He emphasized their surname, the bond between them.

“Yes, of course, don’t be daft. Reid is my friend.”

She’d spoken those words to him a time or two before. This time, he took them with much less aplomb. His jaw cracked with the force of his grinding teeth. Without a word, he turned on his heel. He paused, laying his hand at the small of her back once more. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle.

“I’ll await you inside.”

What was that supposed to mean? His voice, too soft to give away his emotion, reminded her of the stolen kiss in Lord Granby’s drawing room. Did he mean to continue it? Her toes curled. A few days ago, he had pushed her away. Now, he was near to groveling at her feet. It made her feel powerful. She nodded, curt, and returned her attention to Reid.

Her childhood friend stared over her shoulder, not lifting his gaze from Adam until the door shut. The click of the latch rang with finality. Despite the public location, Reid’s company suddenly felt terribly intimate.

He didn’t look to be in a convivial mood.

Without preamble, he held out his hand, palm up. “I’ll take it now and your deal will be settled.”

Lily frowned. “Take what?”

“The artifact.”

“I…I don’t have it.”

He bristled. “You failed?”

His tone raised her hackles. “I told you we were invited to the dinner party because you insisted upon being apprised of my progress. I didn’t intend to steal it this evening, which you would have known had you asked. Tonight, I only meant to confirm that the armband is still in Lord Granby’s possession.”

Reid took a step forward, looming over her. She had never considered him to be a forbidding man, but he used his height and the deepening shadows to his advantage. When he stood over her like that, he might as well have been a monster. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, suppressing a shiver.

“I asked you to do a task. You assured me you could do it.”

“And I will. I need time to do it properly.”

“I gave you two weeks,” he snapped. “And you’ve gone over that as it is. How much more time do you want?”

Her voice fled. He’d never shouted at her before, never raised his voice to anyone. Was this really the man she’d once known?

“I don’t know how much time. Adam and I need to discuss our next move—”

He took another, brutal step closer, crowding her. “I’ve given you leeway with him. If he doesn’t deliver soon…”

“You’ll do what?”

A black expression crossed his face. “You don’t want to know.”

Her mouth dried. “Don’t be absurd.”

He laughed darkly. “I assure you, I am perfectly serious. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He is a soulless thief.”

“I know,” she snapped. Her voice rang in the silence, eaten by the darkness.

In the privacy of her own head, she followed it with, And so are you.

“I’ll give you another week, but no more. If you can’t do this for me, I’ll have to look for another way to dispose of your debt.”

With those as parting words, he turned and stormed down the street, leaving Lily trembling.

A moment later, Adam rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. Tears tracked down her face. She refused to turn and show them to him. “You heard?”

“Every word. I won’t let him hurt your family.”

The quiet vehemence in his voice made her head spin. Did she believe him, the scoundrel who had stolen from her? Or her former laughing, bookish friend, who now threatened to destroy her family? Nothing was as it seemed.

And she didn’t know what do.

…

Adam could not leave Lily exposed to Chatterley’s treachery any longer. His time to research had grown thin. He had to act.

Unfortunately, his meticulous inquiries into Chatterley hadn’t yielded the skeletons Adam had hoped to use as leverage. Chatterley was a respectable, well-liked scholar, if reduced in circumstances. No one had an ill word to say about the snake who hid behind his smile. The cretin, it appeared, did not use strangers the way he did his closest friends. If Adam wished to discover something, he would have to put in the time and effort to finding it with his own senses.

He had to follow Chatterley.

An odious task, given that it turned Adam’s stomach to look at the man for too long. He didn’t relish leaving Lily alone to fret herself into illness. Though it was perhaps best he kept his distance, given the sort of comfort he ached to give her. Better he focus on her future—their future. Lily was even more resilient and driven than she’d been when he’d married her, but she couldn’t defeat Chatterley alone.

When Chatterley stepped off the street into a gaming hell, Adam cursed beneath his breath. Was that gutless swine gambling away the funds he’d received from blackmailing Adam? For all that Adam often lived dangerously, he never gambled. He relied on his skill, not on blind chance— Blind chance gave fools hope.

He wouldn’t have taken Chatterley for a fool.

After counting to five, he followed the man inside. It took a moment to orient himself in the dim candlelight. The cacophony brewed around him like poison. Shouts of triumph or bemoaning success. Calls to play, calls to quit. Laughter, rowdy suggestions to the women of ill repute who enticed the men, the rattle of dice in cups. Sweat beaded along Adam’s hairline as the crowded room was transfixed by the ghost of a ship deck. Screams instead of challenges, battle cries instead of calls for luck. Deafening cannons, bullets, steel on steel.

He was not on a ship anymore. The floor beneath him was solid, not swaying. Adam swallowed hard and shut his eyes, his heart hammering in his ears. If anything, that seemed to make it worse. His mouth was dry and scratchy. His hands trembled. He needed to get out.

He opened his eyes. The chaos of the din seemed to unfurl around him at twice the normal speed, to match his racing heart. At the west end of the room, a man slipped into a corridor. A man who resembled Chatterley’s height and build. Adam pursued him, desperate to leave the crowd behind. He pushed his way through the bodies, flinching at the rattle of dice that sounded more like bullets.

The corridor, deserted by the time he reached it, held only one door at its far side. With every step, he left the sound of the main room and its gruesome memories behind. But he was still on edge, his breath cutting down his throat and making it hard for him to swallow. The narrow walls of the dark corridor threatened to swallow him. He blindly pursued the exit.

The door led to fresh, cool air. When it shut behind him, the burble of voices fell away. He paused, drinking in a deep breath, then again. He was on land. He was safe. War couldn’t follow him here.

The cock of a gun splintered his thoughts. His ears roared. The butt of the pistol pressed into the small of his back.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

“You’ve been following me.”

Dimly, above the clamor of his instincts, Adam recognized Chatterley’s voice. It didn’t seem connected to the present. To the gun at his back, to the war left to fight. His muscles bunched, preparing to move. Instinct. Kill. His only choice—dying—was not an option. He couldn’t leave Lily alone.

Lily. Chatterley. The present. No war, at least not the way he knew.

“I don’t like the way you spoke to my wife tonight.”

Chatterley laughed, a hollow and bitter sound. “You don’t get to tell me what to do—”

Adam reacted to the hostility in Chatterley’s voice. He turned, lashed out, wrapped his fingers around the grip of the gun. When the haze cleared, his hand trembling with the urge to do violence, he found Chatterley on the ground and the pistol in his hand.

Kill, kill, kill.

No. Adam didn’t do that anymore. He gasped for breath, struggling to think clearly.

Fear making his voice high, Chatterley informed him, “If you kill me, the truth will come to light. I made arrangements in the case of my death.”

Adam battled for control of himself. He disarmed the pistol, put it in his greatcoat pocket. His fists curled. They ached with the force. He stepped back, smothering the mantra in his head and all of his instincts. With one hand, he gestured for Chatterley to rise.

The man did so tentatively, leaning heavily against the wall as if his knees shook too hard to support his weight.

A flood of satisfaction grounded Adam in the moment, helping to chase away his demons. It wasn’t near the punishment Chatterley deserved.

“You frightened Lily tonight. That is unacceptable.” When Chatterley started to protest, he raised his voice, speaking over the weasel. “Don’t speak to me of consequences. This time, I will tell you the consequences. I don’t have a care for my name. If you harm her, you’ll be floating in the Thames.”

“The information would hurt her, too.”

That knowledge alone was what had parted Adam from Lily’s side four years ago. He was not going to let it wedge between them again. After all, he’d had four years to find a solution to spare her. If she accepted it, no one would be able to harm her.

For now, Chatterley had a noose hanging around their necks. One that tightened with every breath Adam took.

Adam pinned him to the wall with an arm across his shoulders. Leaning close enough for Chatterley to see the fury in his eyes, he warned, “I’ll say this one last time: keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk to my wife.”

“Are you sure she’ll be your wife much longer?”

Adam leaned harder on his arm. “Is that a threat?”

“An observation.” The strangled sound of Chatterley’s voice did little to squelch his evident satisfaction. “Now that you’re here, she may decide to seek a divorce. She despises you. You don’t think she’ll do everything in her power to be free of you?”

Heaven help him, but Lily might decide to leave him in her dust. Adam had thought he’d made his peace with that eventuality. He’d even considered helping, should she ask it of him, or simply staying out of her life if she decided she couldn’t spare the expense or scandal. However, that resolution had been forged before he’d met her again. Before he’d tasted her lips and worked shoulder to shoulder with her. Before they’d become partners, as they always should have been.

Now, he didn’t think he could walk away.

But Lily— She believed he had stolen from and abandoned her for his own profit. She believed he hadn’t wanted to make love to her, when the truth had him awake late at night, aching for her. Without knowing the truth, she might very well decide to leave him.

Could he tell her the truth without putting her in danger? Adam held Chatterley’s gaze, his jaw clenched. If he misjudged his wife and she ran to Chatterley with what he told her, she would topple everything he had worked toward building in the years they’d been separated. Despite the blackmail, she called this slug a friend.

Adam tossed him aside like a rag doll. “You’ve been warned. The next time won’t come with a warning.”

He turned, his greatcoat fluttering around him as he strode briskly down the alley. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention as he awaited a parting shot. Chatterley must not have been clever enough to bring more than one pistol, because Adam reached the street unscathed in body, if not in heart.

He owed Lily a conversation—one he didn’t know if she trusted him enough to believe.