‘Perhaps,’ she said with the same shrug Michael had given, and a wide grin.
‘Ha, ha.’ He pointed between Michael and Lillian. ‘You two are very funny.’ He glared at Michael. ‘We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow. Now, do you want to ride with us?’
‘If you don’t mind, though I won’t come between you lovebirds for too long. I’ve made arrangements to spend the night not far from here.’
‘Who do you know in this area?’ Brent closed the carriage door behind Michael and sat opposite him, and beside Lillian. When the driver started the horses and they left Browning’s large house behind, a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders. He’d never forget the lurch of his stomach and the stutter of his heart when he’d realized Lillian was in that ballroom surrounded by leering gentlemen who’d been drinking steadily for hours. Not caring that Michael watched them with eagle eyes, he put his arm around Lillian’s shoulder and pulled her head to his shoulders. Her eyes closed and she relaxed into his side, allowing him to suck in his first easy breath for hours.
He frowned at Michael. “You haven’t answered my question.’
‘A gentleman never reveals his affairs, especially if the lady prefers to be discreet.’
Something about Michael’s answer roused his suspicions, but he couldn’t decipher that puzzle when his thoughts were centered on Lillian and where he was going to instruct his driver to take them. Taking her home to the duke’s house would be simplest, but he still ached for her and longed for a second chance, without Browning or anyone lese to interrupt them.
‘For God’s sake, Brent. I can hear you thinking from over here. The solution isn’t that hard. You’re in love with Lillian and have been for a long time. And she loves you…’ He raised a questioning brow.
Brent nodded. ‘Yes,’ he whispered, ‘I believe she does.’ He smiled. ‘After Browning found us in the wardrobe--’
‘The wardrobe?’ Michael rocked with laughter though he at least tried to muffle it and not wake Lillian. ‘Reclusive Lord Mallory and the widow Armstrong caught together in a cupboard?’ He slapped his hands on his knees and kept laughing. ‘Can’t wait to share that bit of news with…’
‘With?’
Michael put a finger to his lips and nodded towards Lillian. ‘You know I’m happy for you. After all you went through with Marion you, of all people, deserve to find happiness. Are you going to ask her to marry you?’
‘I…I don’t know. We haven’t had time to sort out our feelings, or to discuss what happens next. I need to recover from the shock of Lillian mixing with those…girls.’
‘She’s not as innocent or untouched as you’d prefer to think, Brent. Not after being married to dastardly Geoffrey.’
‘She told me some of it tonight, and I feel guilty that I’d not done more. Helped her somehow.’
‘Nothing you could have done, old friend. Husbands are allowed treat their wives however they like and no one can interfere. Not even the duke could have taken her away from her husband.’
‘Stupid bloody British laws. Time someone brought it up in parliament and pushed for some reform. Even small reforms. To allow women to leave if their lives are in danger from their husbands.’
‘Good idea. I know a peer in a position to do that.’
Brent frowned. ‘Who?’
‘Michael pointed. ‘You, my dense friend. Long past time you came out of seclusion and took up your seat. Think of the good you could do for women like Maggie and Lillian.’
Brent narrowed his eyes at Michael. ‘What do you know about Maggie?’
Michael thumped on the carriage roof to signal the driver to stop. He touched a finger to his forehead in a mock salute. ‘If you want my advice, you’ll tell that lovely lady that you love her.’
Michael leapt from the coach onto the road before a large gateway and Brent squinted into the dark as Michael strode towards the iron gates. Too dark outside for Brent to discern the gold-lettered name on the arch, but tomorrow Michael would have some explaining to do. As the driver whipped up the horses, the carriage rocked and Lillian awoke with a start. Looking out the window she said, ‘Oh, Maggie’s house,’ before subsiding into the seat and dropping back into a sound sleep.
Brent threw his head back against the leather headrest and silently laughed. No wonder Michael was being secretive. At this very moment, he was no doubt sauntering down the driveway to Maggie’s house where he’d spend the night in the house owners bed. Maggie was a widow who’d suffered at her husband’s hand, but Brent knew nothing else about her except that she was Lillian’s friend and his softly-snoring sweetheart was generally an excellent judge of character. Perhaps Michael would also fall in love.
CHAPTER SIX