Wherever he was, he needed to know about the new rumors, and they needed to figure out what to do about it. Working at the docks? He’d promised to remain scandal free, and that was certainly no way to do it.
She entered the building. The footman she’d paid handsomely to follow Devon about had said he lived on the second floor in a small apartment at the end of the hall. She entered a small hallway with dim lighting and went to put her first foot on the first step when a woman popped out of a door.
She was short and stout, and her dress was a bit frayed, but the apron she wore over it was as pure white as freshly fallen snow or a dove’s wing. Crisp, too. She wore a ring of keys at her waist. The landlady?
“Who are you?” the woman demanded.
Miss Clarke, she almost said. Catching her mistake, she snapped her mouth shut, straightened her shoulders, and summoned the confident woman inside. “Lady Pennworthy.”
The woman clucked and shook the keys on the ring absently. “I did hear the young toff got hitched. You must be her. I’m Mrs. Matlock, the landlord’s wife.”
Young toff? “Do you mean Lord Devon?”
The old woman cackled. “The same. The very same. Worried he’s got lovey birds up in his room?”
“Not at all.” Of course he didn’t! “I am merely supposed to meet him here. We are to tour a townhouse later this afternoon.” True and not true. They had an appointment that afternoon, but he was not expecting her here. He likely had no intentions of keeping their engagement. Or at the very least, he would forget. He hadn’t kept any of their engagements since marrying, except the midnight kind.
“I don’t have a key,” Lillian admitted. “Would you mind very much letting me in to his apartment?”
“Follow me.” The woman jingled her keys off some hidden loop on her apron, swooped around Lillian, and bustled up the stairs and down the hall. She had the door open before Lillian could reach the last step. When Lillian caught up, she raced back into the hallway. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be up in a bit with a spot of tea.”
Lillian took a deep breath before she entered the room and shut the door softly behind her.
Devon’s apartment. A single room packed with furniture and odds and ends.
His room at his brother’s house had been sterile, completely devoid of any signs of him until Lillian had redecorated in the night of their wedding.
But this single room hadDevonscrawled on every inch of it. A familiar waistcoat draped over the back of a chair, and his notebook sprawled open on a table filled with scratches and hastily scribbled ideas. The bed linen was crumpled, a sign he had slept here at some point, and a chipped teacup sat next to a wash basin on a small table in front of a mirror. Inside the teacup—coffee beans.
Of course.
She reached in and popped one into her mouth as she had often seen him do.
She spit it out immediately. “Ugh!” Her face scrunched, and she shook her tongue in the open air. How could he stand it? “Blech. Yuck!” The scent of coffee on his skin she liked, no, adored, but she’d never try that again.
She sat in the chair next to the desk and bit her bottom lip, surveying the room. It was small, yes, but cozy. She could feel him here in a way she could not inside the duke’s townhouse mansion.
A small trunk rested under the window. What was in it? Her fingers itched to find out.
No, it felt wrong to pry here because this room was so obviouslyhim,and to do so would be such an invasion of privacy. In the other room, prying into the wardrobe had seemed like being a guest at someone’s house—if you were to open a cabinet or drawer, you would find nothing but space, emptiness, certainly not a gentleman’s entire self shoved behind the doors, hidden.
She shivered with delight. It wasniceto see him out in the open instead of hidden, his likes splashed across every wall.
She paced across the room, back and forth, restless. Now that she’d determined prying was off the agenda, nothing remained to occupy her time but waiting. When would he come? Perhaps a better question was would he be angry if he arrived and found her here?
A knock on the door.
Lillian opened it to find Mrs. Matlock once more. She shoved a wooden tray at Lillian. On it, china and silverware clattered against each other. “I brought coffee and tea. I know His Lordship is fond of coffee, but I don’t know about you. He has nothing here for refreshments, and you are so fine a lady you probably need sustenance now and then.”
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Matlock. Would you, perhaps, like to stay and chat?” She’d not brought a book. Mistake, that.Sigh.Conversation must do well enough.
“No, I wouldn’t. Not that I think you ain’t worth conversing with. I just don’t have time.”
“Of course not. You’re quite busy.”
Mrs. Matlock narrowed her eyes, looking for some sign of condescension or teasing. Then she nodded and smiled the tiniest bit. “Quite. Let me know if you need anything else.” Mrs. Matlock grunted as she headed out the door. “You’ve got a long wait. Lord Devon’s gone these days from sunrise to sunset.”
Lillian placed the tray on the bed, plastered on a happy grin, and waved Mrs. Matlock out the door. “Do not worry. I’ve much to occupy my time.”
