Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)

Once Stone and Macleod left the warren, they would follow and bide their time. No doubt the convicts’ first order of business would be a pint at the local tavern and a visit to the closest brothel. With any luck, they’d apprehend the men once they were well into their cups, trousers tangled at their ankles. Three against two, and pistols in their favor. No contest. Perhaps they’d wrangle a name from the brutes then and there, and Julian would at least have a direction for his efforts. He wouldn’t be able to go home to Lily quite yet, but he would feel as though he were journeying in that direction.

Until then, they would wait and observe from here. “Here” being an unused bay in the dockyard. This small inlet for the repair and rigging of ships was flanked by high platforms on either side, accessed by rough-planked stairs.

By revealing himself to be the famed Lieutenant Colonel St. Maur, Ashworth had easily talked their way into the armory and dockyard. No one suspected. They were just a friendly group of gentlemen out for a ride, curious to have a look at things. Their greatest struggle had been shaking free of the many officers angling to tour them around.

Light footsteps clattered on the wooden steps. The men frowned at one another before turning to see who would join them. Another starry-eyed young officer, likely, hoping to trade battle tales with Ashworth or curry the favor of a duke.

But it wasn’t an officer who emerged on the platform.

It was Lily. His wife, clad in a violet traveling dress and dark winter cloak, rushing straight for him. Her heel caught on a board, and his heart plummeted, only sputtering back to life when she caught and righted herself.

“Jesus Christ,” Julian blurted out, taking his wife by the shoulders. He couldn’t help but give her a little shake. To be sure she was safe. To be sure she was real. “Lily, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m chasing you.” She panted for breath. “You unmitigated ass.” Her eyes blazed with fury, and she trembled in his arms. He’d never seen her in possession of such intense, evident rage and fear.

But she wouldn’t be here if her love didn’t surpass both of these.

His heart rolled in his chest. “This much, Lily? You truly love me this much?”

“Of course I do, you hateful man. Damn you.” She clutched her side with one hand and raised the other in a fist. Lowered it. Raised it again. Then punched his shoulder, hard.

He kissed her full on the lips. She struggled for a moment, having stockpiled all that nervous energy for the cause of defense. But he would not be pushed away. He held her tight with his arms and cherished her lips with the softest of kisses, tasting the sweetness of her skin and the salt of her tears. “I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “I don’t know how it’s possible to love you so much. I will die of it.”

The platform trembled beneath their feet. A powder explosion in the armory, perhaps. Or maybe just this kiss, shaking the foundations of the earth.

“See here!” the duke called.

With reluctance, Julian lifted his head, ending the kiss.

Morland waved them over, jerking his head toward the breakwater. “Looks as though they’re slowing work. Perhaps they’ll be released early.”

Julian turned to Lily and signed, “Go. You must go home. Now. This is men’s business. Dangerous.”

“No,” she said, still holding her side. “You don’t understand. It’s Peter Faraday.”

Peter Faraday? How the devil had she learned of Peter Faraday?

“He was with Leo that night,” she huffed. “They were … They were lovers.”

“What?” he signed. Julian was certain he’d misheard her.

“Lovers?” Ashworth and Morland echoed.

So. It would seem he hadn’t misheard.

She nodded, looking around the group. “Yes, lovers. I’m sure of it. I have letters from Faraday to my brother. They leave no doubt.”

For a prolonged moment, the armory was strangely silent. He and Ashworth and Morland looked from one to another. To their boots. To the horizon. Looking around in vain for explanations, he supposed. Or maybe just escape.

Considering Julian’s own history of debauchery, he’d never felt himself in the position to judge others’ sexual affairs. And to be sure, he’d known his share of mollies. His own tailors, for a start. It was no secret Schwartz and Cobb were more than just business partners. In his youth, there’d been a molly house just a block from Anna’s coffeehouse. And even within the ton, there were always those “confirmed bachelors.”

But those were other men. They weren’t Leo.

Lovers. Leo and Faraday, lovers.

Julian briefly considered reconstructing his mind to accommodate the concept. Then he pushed the idea away. Renovations on such a grand scale took more time than he could spare right now. “We already knew Faraday was there. He took the attack meant for me. I was supposed to be with Leo that night.”

“But you weren’t,” Morland said. “Faraday was. And if they had some kind of relationship …”

“A crime of passion?” Ashworth put in. “Is that what you’re thinking?”