A Scot in the Dark by Sarah MacLean
She thought for a moment that she saw his lips twitch at the words. At the way she stood up for herself. She wondered if he was slightly proud of her.
She was rather proud of herself, honestly.
“I would nae dream of forcing you into marriage, Miss Hargrove,” he replied.
“We both know that’s not true,” she retorted. “But I’m not interested in the current option.”
“And thank God for that,” Alec retorted.
“You’d be lucky to have me,” Derek spat.
Alec immediately looked back at him. “It speaks again.” He raised his fist and struck Derek once more. “Next time, I’ll take out teeth.”
A thrill went through her at his unhesitating response. At the way he instantly protected her. She liked it far too much.
If she wasn’t careful, Alec would be as dangerous as Derek had been.
More so.
“That’s enough, Your Grace,” Lillian said. “You’ve done your damage.” Alec stood, bringing Derek to his feet at the same time. When he did not immediately let Derek go, Lily said, “Release him.”
Not without a final word. Alec leaned down, terrifying the other man, enjoying the horror on his idiot face. “I told you I would destroy you, did I not? And that was before you touched her. Before you insulted her.”
He released his grip, dropping Derek to the ground, sending him scurrying backward like a beetle, reaching for his bloodied nose. “You broke my nose. I am an actor!”
Alec reached into his own pocket, withdrawing his handkerchief to wipe the blood from his knuckles. “If you come near her again, I shall do more than break your nose. I shall make it impossible for you to walk the boards of your damn stage. And I shall do so without hesitation. And with exceeding pleasure.”
“It won’t change anything,” Derek sniped. “The moment the world sees my painting, they’ll see the truth.” He looked at Lily. “No one will have you honorably, and the only companionship you’ll be able to find is your brutal duke and a handful of men who want you for just that—companionship.”
The shame came again. Hot and angry and desperate. And somehow, in all of it, all she wished was that Alec had not heard it.
She wished him to think more of her.
But he did not, of course. Hadn’t he said the same to her not an hour earlier in the center of the ballroom?
Sell when you can.
He did not see the similarity, apparently, as he went after Derek again, lifting him by the collar until the man she’d once loved dangled above the floor. Lily’s eyes went wide as Hawkins grasped at Alec’s wrists ineffectively. “Give me one decent reason not to kill you right now.”
Hawkins squeaked his protest.
“Let him go,” Lily said.
“Why?” Alec did not look to her.
“Because I am ruined anyway. With or without his murder on my conscience,” she said. “And because I asked you to.”
He did look at her then, the moon casting the slopes and angles of his handsome face in beautiful light. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, even now, his coat in tatters, his eyes flashing fire.
Especially now.
“Because I asked you to,” she repeated, her gaze on his.
He put Derek down.
Derek rolled his shoulders back, smoothing his coat sleeves, apparently unaware that his face and cravat were bloodstained. By Alec.
For Lily’s honor.
No one had ever cared for her honor before. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.
She liked it.
But she had no time to like it. Instead, she turned to Derek. “Remember this when you wake in the morning, and you are able to see the sun. Remember I gave you something you refused me.”
“I never threatened your life.”
She took a deep breath. “That is precisely what you did.”
“Lillian,” Alec said, and Lily held up a hand at the caution in the word. At his disapproval. He might be her guardian, but she would not allow him to manage her. She stepped around him, coming to face this man she’d once loved, this man who she’d once believed hung the moon beyond.
“I cannot salvage the opinion of those around me, the opinion Society shares. The opinion that will be solidified when you exhibit the portrait.” She paused. Took a deep breath. And added, “I cannot ever be rid of the shame I feel for the whole debacle.” She looked at Alec then. Acknowledged that he was right. That his plan was the best one. “I cannot ever outrun it.”
Understanding flared in his beautiful brown eyes, and she waited for triumph to follow with the realization of what she would do.
She would find a man. And she would marry.
Because there was no other option.
“Get out, Derek.”
He insisted the last word. “A lesser man would display the painting tonight to punish you. To punish your brute of a guardian. But I am a greater mind. More evolved than any the world has ever known. And so I bestow upon you my benevolence . . .” He paused in that way that Derek did. The way that he always had when she posed for him. She’d used to hang on those pauses, certain they predicated utter brilliance. Now she knew the truth—all that came out of Derek Hawkins’s mouth was sewage. “Consider it a gift, little Lily. For the . . . inspiration.” The way the word oozed from him made Lily want to retch with regret. “In your week, you might consider making your beast less savage.”
Alec stilled, looking down at her hand and then to Derek. “The only thing stopping me from tearing you limb from limb is her benevolence, you pompous gnat. Get out.”
The words were barely restrained, terrifying enough to send Hawkins running for the door.
Lily watched the door for a long moment after Derek left, eventually speaking to it, unable to look at Alec. “Tell me. If he’d painted a nude man, would London be so scandalized?” When Alec did not speak, Lily answered the question herself. “Of course not.”
“Lillian,” he whispered, and for a fleeting moment, she regretted refusing him the use of her nickname. After all, if anyone should use it, was it not the man who fought for her without hesitation? Without her deserving it?
She took a deep breath. “My reputation is ruined, because I am a woman, and we are not our own. We belong to the world. Our bodies, our minds.”
“You don’t belong to anyone. That’s the point. If you did, this would not be such a scandal.”
She raised a brow. “I belong to you, do I not?”
“No.”
Her lips twisted at the instant reply. “Of course not. You never wanted me.”
No one ever wants me. Not in any way that matters.
It was his turn to shake his head. “That isnae what I meant.”
“That doesn’t make it less true.”
He watched her for a long moment. “It doesna matter what is true. Only what you believe.”
She nodded at her own words on his lips. “Then we are in agreement. I am not interested in laying blame, Your Grace. I am simply interested in leaving this room and deciding which lucky gentleman I must charm into saddling himself with me as wife.”
He swore again, and she took it as her cue to leave, turning on her heel and heading to the door where Derek had exited minutes earlier. Once there, she turned back to find Alec still as stone in a wash of moonlight, his coat in tatters, along with a tear in one thigh of his trousers. Set against the dainty furniture in the little sitting room, he looked like something out of a scandalous novel—a criminal, sneaking into a proper home to pillage his spoils.
And, somehow, at the same time, he looked rather perfect.
What if he did want her?
She put the thought away.
“Let me captain this ship, Alec. I might dash it upon the rocks and send myself into the depths, but at least I did it myself.”
Before he could reply, she turned away and yanked open the door, coming face-to-face with Countess Rowley, who seemed in no way surprised to discover Lily inside
Lily was set back by the familiarity in the question. “Alec?”
The countess clarified. “Your guardian.”
Lily gave a little humorless huff of laughter at the descriptor and opened the door farther, revealing Alec beyond.
Lady Rowley’s gaze lit in predatory glee. “I knew it. I just witnessed your former lover exit this corridor looking as though he’d been taken to task by a devastating brute. And I knew it was my devastating brute.” Lily went stick-straight at the words. She hated the sound of them in the countess’s pretty, breathless voice. Hated the possession inherent in them. But most of all, she hated the descriptor, disparaging and sexual, like he was a bear to be tamed rather than a man.
“Alec, you heroic beast,” Lady Rowley purred, “I was hoping I’d find you somewhere dark, darling. To resume our acquaintance.”
There was no question of the meaning of the countess’s words.
They were lovers.
Lily ignored the pang of disappointment that surged, telling herself that any disappointment was because she had thought better of his taste in lovers.
It had nothing to do with the idea that he had a lover, full stop.
Lily looked over her shoulder to Alec, who was looking directly at Lady Rowley, with an intensity Lily had never experienced. And she could not stop the emotion that flooded her. Betrayal.
“Darling.” The countess sighed. “Look at you, coat in tatters, still as big and broad and strong as ever. My goodness, I’ve missed you.”
Lily closed the door before she could hear the answer. She did not wish to hear the answer. Let him spend the rest of the evening with his paramour. Let her tend to his bruised knuckles and ego. Lily wanted out of this room. Out of this house. Out of this damn world with its rules that meant different things for different people.
And she meant to get out, without him.
This was not the first time she’d been alone, after all. Lillian Hargrove had made a life of being alone. And the arrival of a massive Scotsman would not change that.
By the time she reached the entrance to the ballroom, she was nearly deafened by the cacophonous chatter within. No one was dancing, despite the orchestra playing a perfect quadrille. Instead, all of London stood in little huddled groups, bowed heads and fluttering fans and gleeful sotto voce. Despite the fact that this was an event designed to underscore the social differences between people, gossip remained the great unifier.
Lily was no fool. She knew the subject of the chatter. Knew, too, that she would soon be a part of it.
Even before Sesily Talbot approached, clutched her hands, and spoke, low and quiet. “Good Lord! When I said that you and Warnick should make Hawkins the villain, I did not mean that you should beat him almost to death!”
“It wasn’t almost to death,” Lily said.
“He crossed the room with a swollen cheek, a split lip, and an eye that would make a fighter wince.” Sesily paused. “Not that I didn’t enjoy the portrait he made.”
Lily couldn’t help but smile at that. “I imagine you did.”
“He deserved it and more,” Sesily agreed before adding, “Was it very exciting to watch Warnick go at him? He’s a glorious brute of a man.”
Lily was coming to hate the word. “He’s not a brute.”
“Indeed not,” Sesily immediately corrected herself. “He cares for you a great deal, obviously.”
She didn’t like the way Sesily’s words made her feel, full of confusion and something akin to sick. She settled on, “Everyone saw Derek?”
“It was marvelous,” Sesily said with glee.
“I suppose I’m at the center of another scandal.”
“Pish.” Sesily waved the words away. “It’s the same scandal. You’ve nothing on the Talbot sisters. But I shall acknowledge this, you certainly know how to enter a ballroom.” Sesily looked to Lily’s dress. “And how to dress for it.”
Lily didn’t find it amusing. Instead, she found it terribly defeating. Regret coursed through her, and she desperately wanted to be anywhere but here. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Listen to me,” Sesily said with firm conviction, squeezing Lily’s hands tightly and forcing her to meet her eyes. “You do not let them win. Not ever. There is nothing in the world they like more than tearing a woman down for having too much courage. And there is nothing in the world that makes them angrier than not being able to break her.”
Lily looked to the woman, an Amazon set down in the heart of London. Beautiful in her too tight, red dress—a dress that no doubt made other women green with envy. She was everything Lily was not. Confident. Sure of her place. Happy with it, even.
Lily wondered what that might be like.
Perhaps it was all of that confidence that made Lily so willing to talk. Bold enough to say something she probably shouldn’t have said. “Derek asked me to be his mistress again.”
“Derek is a troll.”
Lily laughed, because it was either that or cry. “He is, rather.”
“An arrogant, addlepated, pinpricked troll.”
Lily’s eyes went wide at the creative insult. “One with a great deal of power to ruin me, it seems.”
Sesily took her hands again, and there was comfort in the warmth and firmness of her grip. “We shall survive it.”
The we set Lily back. “We shall?”
“Of course,” Sesily said with a shrug. “It is what friends do. Help each other survive.”
Friends.
She’d never had a friend. But she’d read about them. She shook her head. “Why would you be so kind to me?”
Shadow passed over Sesily’s face, there, then gone. “Because I know what it feels like to have them all loathe you. And I’ve seen them chase another away. Women like us must stay together, Lovely Lily.”
Lily wanted to ask more, but there was no time to do so, as Alec chose that moment to reappear from the hallway beyond, coat shredded, trousers in tatters, gloves stained red with Derek’s blood.
“Cor! He looks like a prizefighter. Or worse,” Sesily said, her gaze locked on him as he approached and took Lily’s elbow in hand. “Oh, the female half of the ton wishes to be you, tonight, Lillian Hargrove.”
Lily couldn’t imagine why, as Alec looked as though he wished to murder someone. As though he had already murdered someone.
“We leave now,” Alec growled, ignoring Sesily, and Lily knew better than to argue with the glittering anger in his brown eyes, or the firm set of his square jaw.
Sesily leaned in to kiss Lily on her cheek, and took the moment to whisper, “Be careful. In my experience, men who look like that are ready for one of two things: kissing or killing. And he’s already attempted the latter.”
Chapter 10
BE STILL MY BEATING SCOT!
DILUTED DUKE DISCIPLINES DEREK
He did not trust himself to speak.
Not when he faced the worst of London in Eversley’s ballroom, burning in the heat of their combined not-quite gazes. And not when he guided Lily through the room, and he heard the whispers. The Diluted Duke . . . Covered in Hawkins’s blood . . . The girl is nothing but trouble . . . Poor Hawkins . . .
Certainly, Alec did not trust himself to speak at the idea that it was Hawkins who deserved the sympathy in this farce.
As if all Lily deserved was judgment.
The Scottish Brute.
He turned at the last, his gaze falling to a woman nearby, her eyes familiar. Knowing. He gritted his teeth, the words echoing through him, his clothes in shreds, the smell of Peg’s saccharine perfume still on them. The memory of her hands sliding over his chest, the touch evoking loathing, not of her, but of countless Englishwomen who thought of him as a notch in their collective bedposts—good enough to take to bed, not enough for more.
A conquest. The great Scottish beast.
Come and see me, darling, Peg ha
How many others had thought the same?
How often had he thought it himself?
He did not belong here, in this place with Lillian, beautiful and English and so thoroughly perfect.
Alec did not speak as he and Lily left the ballroom, passing a shocked King—did not even pause to bid farewell. And he did not speak when he ripped open the door to his carriage and lifted Lily inside.
She did speak, however, punctuating her little squeak of surprise at being hefted into the carriage with an “I’m quite able to climb steps, Your Grace.”
Alec didn’t reply, instead lifting himself into the carriage behind her, pulling the door closed with a perfunctory click and knocking twice upon the roof, setting the vehicle in motion.
He could not reply, too filled with frustration and shame and embarrassment and a keen sense of unworthiness. Between the state of his clothing and the battle with Hawkins and the arrival of Peg, he’d had enough of this horrible town. He wanted to destroy the entirety of the city, pull it down brick by brick, and return north like the marauding Scots of yore, who had loathed England with every fiber of their being.
He’d bring her with him. A spoil.
He rubbed a hand over his face, wishing himself anywhere but here. He’d never in his life felt so out of place, as though everything he did was wrong. And then there was Lily, who seemed to take every blow delivered and parry with skill beyond her years, a constant reminder that he was an utter failure at doing right.
So it was that Alec was less than thrilled when she spoke again, filling the carriage with her reminders. “Well. I imagine we shall be well received in the best of London houses after tonight.”
He bit back the curse he wanted to hurl into the night, choosing silence in its stead.
She, however, did not choose silence. “You cannot honestly believe that anyone will marry Hawkins’s muse?”