Page 84 of Broken

“We? Would that be you and Barrette, perhaps?”

Lord Winter passed a shaking hand over his brow. “He was a kind boy before his father’s passing.”

“Things change—people die,” Giles reminded him, even more certain to be on guard for Lilly’s sake. He did not know how far Barrette might be prepared to go to achieve his misguided goal of saving the estate from the loss of Lilly’s ridiculous dowry. At least Winter had compromised on the amount, but it would be better to be prepared.

“Did you teach my daughter to play cards?”

“I simply refreshed her memory. She learns fast.” Giles glanced at Lord Winter’s clenched fist and sighed. Oh, his previous life was irritating. He was well known to favor table stakes when gambling privately with women, and quite often clothing was gambled away too. But everything he had done with Lilly had been fresh and very different from his usual antics. It was not Lord Winter’s fault if he anticipated the absolute worst of him.

“You taught her to gamble to trick her into your bed,” Lord Winter fumed.

“I taught her to play cards. Not to gamble,” Giles corrected. The least he could do was tell the truth about that. “Lilly placed her bets with some help from my signals.”

“So Lillian was correct when she said that she was not bedded?”

“She said that, did she? Silly widgeon. Winter, I hate to bring up such a delicate subject, but I promise you I have compromised your daughter most thoroughly. It is taking all my fortitude to restrain myself until our marriage, but she won’t make it past the first ten minutes with what’s left of her virginity intact when the happy day arrives.” Giles chuckled, anticipation making him giddy. He would be very happy to keep her trapped in his bed for the first six months of marriage.

Lord Winter pressed his lips together tight, but said nothing further as they passed the afternoon playing cards. Giles supposed he should not be quite so blunt about the matter of bedding Lilly, but Winter appeared to take it quite well. Giles found it a relief to be able to be himself with his future father.

They ate dinner without Lilly. Winter watched for her, but Lilly did not come or send a note. Giles wasn’t worried. He would see her when he went to bed. He was looking forward to holding her in his arms again.

Giles walked into his bedchamber at close to midnight and stripped off his clothes in the dark. He hardened in anticipation of running his hands over Lilly’s curves as his fingers touched the sheets. She was filling out, and the sight of her ribs no longer pained him by their sharpness. He climbed into bed, eager, but found only cold sheets and emptiness. Damn that woman. Lilly was going to be the death of him.

Giles jumped back out of bed, pulled on his shirt and trousers, and strode out the door towards Lilly’s room. He turned the handle but found she’d locked the door. He knocked, but heard no sounds within. Not even the dog. Silly widgeon. She forgot he could use the housekeeper’s key.

He hurried down the hall and found the servants’ stairs leading to the exit closest to Mrs. Osprey’s office. Once he woke the housekeeper and took the set from the sleepy woman’s fingers, Giles turned back to the stairs, but something stopped him. He dragged in another breath and froze.

Smoke.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Atticus’ whine woke Lilly from a troubled sleep and she sat up, disoriented in the dark. She did not know what time it was, but thought it must be very late. Atticus barked at her then scratched at the door urgently.

That was what must have woken her. The dog must want to go outside.

She slipped from the bed, tired and unhappy to be awake. Her sleep had been filled with images of falling and cold, hard water rising up to meet her. She shuddered and wished the dream would never return.

She hurried around the bed in the darkness to the dog, patting his head as she reached him. “Sorry, boy. I didn’t mean to lock you in.”

He was such a well-trained hound, but she must have locked him in too early. Her bad mood the day before was no excuse for neglecting the beast. She liked him too much to be cruel. Lilly flicked the lock, turned the knob to pull the door open—and drew in a lungful of thick smoke.

She coughed and pushed the door closed with both hands.

A warning bell rang out.

“Dear God, the manor is on fire!” Lilly staggered back from the door, coughing and wiping her stinging eyes. Confused, she crashed into a side table and tumbled a vase to the floor. Glass shattered. Her feet were bare.

When she could see again, she judged where she was in relation to the break and worked out which way to go to avoid cutting herself. She stepped carefully, sliding her bare feet along the floor until she found herself far away from the glass.

Atticus whined at the door, but she ignored his complaints. They needed to get out, but she would need more than a nightgown on her back and bare feet.

Lilly hurried to her wardrobe, threw a dark gown over the top of her nightgown, grabbed the only pair of slippers she had and jammed them on her feet. She wished she had something thicker, but Katarina purchased only beautiful things, not practical ones.

Grabbing up a length of towel, Lilly soaked it in water from the jug, then wrapped the wet cloth around her neck, effectively tying down her long hair. Lilly grabbed a second length of cloth and wet that too. She could cover the dog’s snout as well if he would allow it. She couldn’t risk losing him to the smoke.

With shoes now protecting her feet, she rushed across the room to the door and draped the wet cloth over the dog’s snout. Atticus tried to back away, but she commanded him to obey while she tied it loosely behind his ears.

With one last look about the room, Lilly curled her fingers in the wolfhound’s collar and told him to get out. If she held on tight, he might be able to lead her outside more quickly than if she tried to find her way blind. She did not imagine it would be easy to pass through the house as it burned, but she trusted the dog to do his best for both of them.