A Lily Among Thorns, page 8
“Of course.” He poured a healthy dollop into both cups. She took hers and sipped. It warmed her cold fingers, and warmth spread comfortably down her throat and into her stomach. Glancing up, she caught Solomon licking away chocolate from the corner of his mouth. A jolt of heat went through her that had nothing to do with chocolate or Madeira.
She looked at her mug. “Solomon?”
“Yes?”
“Why have you been so kind to me? I’ve been nothing but rude to you, and you—”
He looked at her silently for a moment, and suddenly she heard what he’d said when she asked him about the hundred and twenty-five pounds. Because you needed it. Was he going to say it again? It was true, of course, and she knew he knew it. She had needed his kindness, she needed it now, and she could already feel the resentment and gratitude twisting together in her chest—
Maybe it showed on her face. He turned away and picked up another sugar cube. It fell into his chocolate with a final little plop. “I was tired of dining on bread and cheese, that’s all.”
Her heart sank, but she hadn’t earned a better answer, had she? He’d given her more honesty than she deserved already. She hadn’t even managed to ask him to stay yet. She opened her mouth, then shut it and nodded.
He looked at her and sighed. “Serena, I put up with you because I liked you. That’s why people put up with each other.”
He liked her? What did that mean exactly?
He caught her wary look. “And I don’t mean because I want to kiss you. After tonight we both know I do want to kiss you, but that isn’t what I meant.” He crushed the sugar cube against the side of his mug with a spoon. “‘The full soul loatheth a honeycomb; but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet.’”
Serena pressed her lips together. “Solomon, about that kiss— ”
He smiled suddenly. “Yes?”
“I was perhaps more harsh than necessary.”
He gave a choke of laughter. “You don’t say?” He took the spoon out of his mug and sucked it clean, slowly. She kept her breath from hitching, but only by stopping breathing altogether for several seconds. He set the spoon down with a smirk. “You enjoyed it as much as I did.”
Her lips twitched. “Well, maybe.”
For a few minutes there was nothing but the sound of chocolate being drunk. Then Solomon collected their empty mugs to put on the worktable till morning.
Serena did not want to go back to her room. You have to, she told herself. What, are you afraid of the dark now? She stood. “Thank you.”
“Any time,” he said, although he still thought he was leaving in the morning.
She paused at the door, hesitating. Go on, damn you!
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Of course I am.” She marched smartly through the door and shut it behind her. But it took her hours to fall asleep, and when she did, she dozed fitfully.
To an outside observer, it might have looked as though Serena were entering yesterday’s numbers in the ledger. Actually, she was composing her apology.
Perhaps I was a little hasty. I see no harm in your staying a little longer. No.
In the clear light of day, it is apparent to me that I may have overestimated— No.
I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please don’t go. It was so easy a child could do it. But not Serena. She couldn’t even say the words here, in the solitude of her own office.
Yes, you can. You’ve done plenty of more frightening things. She stood up. “I’m.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I—I was—I was rash. No. I was wrong, and—”
The door opened and Sophy stuck her head in. She frowned. “Serena? Is everything all right?”
She felt her face heating. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Your father’s here again, what should I do with him?”
Serena considered her options. She could have him thrown out, but he wouldn’t take it kindly; he might be vindictive, later. She could go out to meet him, but who knew what he would say? In the ordinary course of things her business thrived on gossip, of course, but she couldn’t afford to have people know how close she was to losing the Arms. Let them see blood in the water, and they’d be on her like sharks. “Show him in.”
In daylight, she could see that Lord Blackthorne looked much more prosperous than he ever had when she was growing up. His changes in farming techniques at Ravenscroft must have succeeded beyond his dreams, and she was willing to wager the tenants were seeing none of the benefits.
Well, that would be Cousin Bernard’s problem one day, not hers. She wished she hadn’t let him into her office; she hated having him here, in a place that meant so much to her. His eyes on her pictures and bookcases, her pens and paper and ink stains, made her feel exposed and dirty. Even settling deeper into her wellworn chair and regarding him across the familiar, solid mahogany failed to reassure her. She steepled her fingers. “Well?”
His mouth twisted as he sat. “In that much of a hurry to get rid of me, are you? Very well, I won’t mince words. I told you to get rid of that tradesman or I would take steps. And now instead of going away he is giving you gowns and baking for your customers.” He said this last word as if it pained him. “Reenie, you—”
After all these years, she still hated it when he called her that. “You never cared what I did before. Why this sudden interest?”
His eyes slid away. “You have been an innkeeper for too long if you have to ask that question.” He moved a hand restlessly. “I should have done something when you started this mad scheme.”
“Why didn’t you?” She leaned forward, more curious to hear his response than she wanted to be.
He blinked, startled, as if the answer were so obvious he didn’t understand why she had to ask. “You made your bed.”
She folded her hands tightly together. The stubborn old bastard would never change. She had known when she left Ravenscroft that from that day forward, he wouldn’t lift a finger to help her if she were drowning before his eyes. Not unless she begged him—and with just the right degree of humility. “So I did. And I’ll lie in it with whomever I please.”
He stood up. “Clearly you don’t take me seriously. I think it’s time I told you what happened to your last ill-bred lover.”
He was trying to tower over her, but standing herself wouldn’t make her taller than him. It would only show that she noticed. She tilted her head and smiled, ignoring her sudden unease. “Who, Harry Jenkins? He threw me over, if that’s what you mean. Why, did you bribe him to do it? I hope you’re satisfied with the results.”
His eyes glinted. “Don’t be a fool. The boy probably would have married you if he hadn’t died of a beating on the way to London.”
Her smile didn’t slip, but everything else did. The world was tipping sideways; at any moment the ledgers would start to slide off her desk, she was sure of it. Harry had had white-gold eyelashes, and a scar on his left hipbone that no one would ever again trace with her tongue. “You had a boy murdered just to prevent me from making a mésalliance?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “The idea was merely to beat some sense into him and warn him off, but my agents were regrettably—overenthusiastic.”
“I see.” Harry had been seventeen, a year younger than she. Too young to lie in his own blood on the highway. She’d hated him for abandoning her. Christ, how she wished now that he had! “I’m glad one of us had the presence of mind to preserve the family name from such an association.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you’re being so reasonable, my dear. Now for God’s sake send the tailor packing.”
It took a moment for her sluggish brain to catch his meaning, and then the slow sideways feeling was gone. Everything was very clear and easy. “I’m nothing if not reasonable, Father.” She stood, putting her palms on her desk and leaning forward. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to lunge across it and get her hands round his throat.
Instead, she let her smile spread. “That’s why I’m not going to have you killed outright. But I recommend you hire bodyguards for Solomon, because if he so much as nicks himself shaving, you’ll find yourself in a gutter with your throat cut. You should know I have the means to do it. Don’t think any foolish sentimentality will prevent me.” She nodded toward the door. “Now get out and be grateful for my forbearance.”
He was shaken, but he tried to bluster through. “What, you’d kill your own father? Surely—”
“If you’d ever bothered to inquire, you’d know I never make empty threats. I don’t give a tinker’s damn that you’re my father. I only still call you that because I know how much the connection mortifies you.”
“Does he really mean this much to you, then, this tradesman?”
She couldn’t remember ever being this angry, which was saying a great deal. She laughed softly. “Oh no. I’m not doing this for him.” It was a lie. But her father didn’t seem to know it. She thanked God for that, though she didn’t believe in Him. “No, it’s the principle of the thing. It’s time you learned not to meddle in my affairs. I hate you, you know.” She wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not. The bright sharp feeling that rose like bile in her throat at the sound of his voice—was that hatred? “I daresay I’ve been waiting for this excuse for a long time. I should have done it when you were here last week. But it’s never too late. If I end in Bedlam, you’re dead then too. I have friends who’ll make sure of it. Now get out and leave me alone.”
“Is there no end to your depravity, Reenie? I hear that Frenchman who was keeping you is back as well!” He gave her a sly look. “Maybe I ought to have a word with the fellow, tell him he’s been cuckolded.”
Serena blanched a little at the word “cuckolded.” There is no way he could know about those marriage lines, she told herself. “I’m sure if he were here, René would be shocked to hear that I’m not as chaste a mistress as he thought, but he went to the British Museum.” An odd choice, given that he’d never shown the slightest interest in antiquities before, but no doubt he found time hanging heavy on his hands while he waited to take possession of the Arms.
“Hmm, too bad,” Lord Blackthorne said, sounding pleased. Serena felt sure he would head over to the museum the moment he was out the door. At any other time, she would have been amused at her father trying to play Iago to René’s Othello. But the idea lost its piquancy now she knew that, like Iago, her father did not balk at murder.
There would be no apology to make, after all. There was that to be grateful for.
Serena didn’t feel grateful. She took a deep breath, picked a piece of lint off her sleeve, and went to find Solomon.
Chapter 7
Solomon still didn’t have a plan to make Serena let him stay. He was hoping that after last night, she would just give in and save him the trouble. In the meantime, he was packing very slowly. He put on his shirt very slowly and buttoned his waistcoat very slowly.
If he couldn’t make her give in, he’d be back in Cheapside by dinnertime. The thought depressed his spirits unutterably.
Depression felt disturbingly normal, as if feeling alive and interested in the day, as he had for the past few mornings, was some sort of aberration. Welcome back, blue-devils.
Slowly shrugging into his coat, he looked out the window and saw Lord Blackthorne getting into his carriage. The old bastard must be delighted at this turn of events. A moment later Solomon felt guilty for his surge of resentment. If he left, the threat of Bedlam would be lifted. It would be a blessed relief for Serena, even if Sacreval remained to be dealt with.
But damn it, Solomon wanted to help her deal with him. He yanked open the wardrobe and started throwing things onto the bed.
A knock came at the door, and Serena walked in. She stopped short when she saw the pile of clothes, and his open valise. “Oh, good, you’re going,” she said flatly.
His heart sank. “What did your father want?”
She frowned. “How did you know—never mind. Nothing important. Be gone by lunchtime or I’ll have you evicted for trespassing.”
“Honestly, Serena, only you could add insult to injury with such—” She put up a hand to rub at her temple, and he saw white dents where her nails had bit the palm. He turned sharp eyes on her and saw her face was bloodless. “Good God, Serena, you look—you look bleached! What did that bastard say to you? Did he threaten to have you locked up again?”
She looked at her hand and smiled crookedly. “You’re too knowing by half. But—yes.” She took a breath. “He says he’ll let me alone if you just go. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it. You may not have seen Bedlam, but I have. One of my protectors was keen on that sort of thing.” She actually shuddered.
A flood of stupid relief washed over him at the regret in her voice. Perhaps she’d meant to ask him to stay after all. That would have to be enough, because thinking of Serena in an asylum made him—actually, he preferred not to think of it. It didn’t matter what he wanted; it mattered that she was safe. “I understand,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded. “I’ll find the earrings another way.” She was already turning to leave, not meeting his eyes, when he said, stumbling over the words now, “I . . . Good-bye, Serena. I—it’s been . . .”
She turned and fixed her gray eyes on him. He straightened his shoulders and tried to look stoic. He must have been failing because she got that annoyed look she always got—Solomon was beginning to realize—when she felt guilty. Now there was something else in it, too: fear. That bastard Blackthorne should be strung up by his thumbs.
Her next words took him by surprise. “Solomon, don’t go down any dark alleys for the next month or so, will you?”
His eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” she said with absolute assurance and just the right undertone of amused impatience.
Two could play at that game. “All right. It looks to be a fine day, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll go for a walk along the river tonight.”
She gazed at him for long moments. “My father says he’ll have you killed if you stay here.”
“What?” It was Solomon’s turn to stare at his hands and, no doubt, look rather bleached. “R—really?”
She nodded.
“Do you think he would?”
She smiled unpleasantly. “I think he would, but I somehow suspect that he won’t.”
“And I somehow suspect he didn’t change his mind out of Christian charity.”
“Ah, the wisdom of Solomon! No, you are quite right. I told him that if he harmed you I would have his throat cut.”
“And he believed you?”
“I think so. But he may have thought it was an empty threat.”
He frowned. “Wasn’t it?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. One empty threat can damage a reputation more than twenty direct admissions of weakness. Now, will you be leaving? I think it the wiser course.”
He thought it over. He thought about eating mince pie alone at night. He thought about leaving her to deal with Sacreval on her own. “No.” He gave her a half smile. “I think I’ll feel safer here where you can keep an eye on me.”
She relaxed a little, and he felt warm. He’d lost all sense of proportion. Serena’s shoulders moving an eighth of an inch shouldn’t matter more than a direct threat to his life, but at the moment, it did. “Very well,” she said. “If you will excuse me, I’d better go and spread the word that you’re not to be touched, and put some arrangements in place. Watch your back, will you?”
He caught her wrist. “Don’t do it.”
She turned on him with a mocking smile. “And break my word? Have you no thought for my honor?”
“I mean it, Serena. I’m not worth becoming a murderer for.”
She gently removed his hand. “I’m afraid our opinions are destined to differ on this point, as on so many others. I’m damned if he’ll hurt you.”
He sighed. “A year ago I wouldn’t even have been afraid.”
“What do you mean?” she asked sharply.
“A year ago I would have been tempted to go walking by the river anyway.” He wouldn’t have done it, of course, but he would have thought about it. Never again waking up thinking, I dreamed Elijah was dead, and then realizing it was true. Never again finding himself standing in the middle of the room crying and not remembering how he got there. And not even having to do it himself—it would have sounded rather appealing. The sharp stab of fear he’d felt a minute ago had surprised him. He had felt, for a moment, almost like a traitor.
“Don’t even think about it,” Serena said in a biting tone of command, and he looked up in surprise to see that her eyes were blazing. “Don’t ever think about it. I wish your brother were here, too. He’d tell you not to be a fool. But I’m happy to do it for him. I meant what I said. If you’re hurt I’m damned.”
He rolled his eyes. For her, surely it was just one more tussle for dominance with her father.
She slammed her fist down on his worktable so hard Solomon had to leap forward to save his muriate of tin from an untimely end. He frowned at her, and she glared unrepentantly back.
“Serena, calm down. I’m not going to do anything rash. I was only saying—”
“Then don’t say it,” she said harshly, “because if I have to go collect your body from God knows where, I will be seriously displeased.”
She was fighting for him now. He couldn’t help it. He smiled at her.
She stood there a little longer, looking vaguely at a loss. Then she said, abruptly, “I’m sorry about last night. With the candle. That was stupid of me.” She spun on her heel and left the room, presumably to put arrangements in place. This time he didn’t try to stop her.
René came in late, feeling very harassed. Supper was over, and the hall was abandoned except for Serena, waiting alone at the desk for any latecomers in need of a room and going over what looked like next week’s grocery orders. “Well,” she inquired maliciously, “did my father find you?”
