“I rather hate it here, and I don’t understand why I let you drag me into such a situation. I know Heightfield is here, and while I damn the man to hell, a gambling hell isn’t exactly the place I had in mind for him.” Chatterwood gave a small chuckle, likely impressed at his turn of phrase.
Lucas rolled his eyes.
“I’ve not seen him here often, he rather keeps to himself.”
“Unless he’s chasing after my daughter,” Chatterwood remarked bitterly.
Greywick’s tone was inquiring. “I thought you addressed that particular problem?”
“I did. But that doesn’t mean I trust him to leave her alone as he should.”
“Do . . . we need to make arrangements to move up the event?” Greywick asked significantly.
Lucas awaited Chatterwood’s response with great anticipation. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he listened.
“It will appear rushed.”
“I care not, and neither should you . . . I’m of the persuasion that there are more important matters that we don’t wish to be widely circulated. A hasty wedding isn’t the most scandalous thing, is it?” Greywick’s tone was taunting.
“Indeed it is not,” Chatterwood answered after a moment’s pause. “Very well, the more rapidly I’m rid of her, the sooner I can be rid of the next daughter.” He paused for a moment. “I’ve already secured her a match, so I’m done with both of them. A bloody miserable business, not having an heir and having to marry off daughters. I rather regret—” He didn’t complete his thought.
Greywick chuckled. “My, how the brandy has loosened your tongue, Chatterwood. But it is all of no consequence. Let us drink to a swift alliance, and a swifter conclusion to our situations. It shouldn’t take more than three days.”
Lucas turned to leave, but did so in an unhurried manner so that he could allow his gaze to rake over the men speaking. As expected, Greywick was rather joyful, his lips spread in a winning grin. The Duke of Chatterwood’s expression was far more sober, his eyes narrowed behind his mask.
Lucas ambled away, listening as he went, just to ensure that they didn’t harbor suspicions of his eavesdropping.
To the random passerby, their conversation wouldn’t hold any interest. But to Lucas, it had been a wealth of information.
Especially the plan to secure a special license, which meant that Lucas had to secure one first. Good thing he had a favor he could call in at Doctors’ Commons.
Three days.
He had three bloody days.
As he quit the room, he signaled for a footman. He sent the man off to fetch his carriage.
Because if Chatterwood was here . . .
His blood burned with the anticipation of sneaking into the duke’s residence to find Liliah.
It was likely a foolish errand, since she was of the persuasion that their tryst had concluded.
But things change.
People change.
And she deserved to know that she was no longer fighting for her future alone.
Rather, her future had a new name.
His.
Chapter Thirty-five
Liliah was just saying good night to her sister when a prickling sensation traveled up her spine. As she closed her sister’s door, she glanced down the hall at the flickering candlelight. Nothing seemed amiss, yet the sensation lingered. With silent steps, she started down the hall toward her room, glancing back after every few steps. The highly polished wood floor creaked as she passed over the threshold of her chamber, casting one more furtive glance up and down the hall before closing the door. On a whim, she locked it. Sarah had already helped her ready herself for bed, and she was looking forward to a sedate few moments reading in bed. She slipped between the covers, the slightly chilly sheets a contrast to her cozy room heated by the fire, and a grin teased her lips as she snuggled deep. She reached over to the nightstand to pick up her book when the doorknob rattled softly.
Gasping, she held her breath and watched the handle start to turn, even though she’d locked it! In a moment, she was out of bed and lifting the fire poker from its place beside the fire, arming herself against whoever dared to interrupt her peace.
