Page 14 of Not a Chance in Hell (The Chances #6)

April 14, 1840

H e was going to wear out a hole in the carpet if he wasn’t careful.

Arthur snorted and kept walking. Up and down, up and down, along the long portrait gallery. He’d been here so long that the shadows had crept around the room and finally disappeared. When a footman had appeared to light the candles, the servant had been forced to step around the pacing earl.

It was all so—so goddamn frustrating.

“I suppose the question is, who are you, really? The charmer, the lout, the great reader?”

“Whoever you want me to be, Lady Lilianna.”

What had possessed him to say such a thing?!

He knew full well. He had been attempting to be charming. Teasing. As though that was what Lady Lilianna Chance wanted—he knew better than that!

Castigating himself all evening when he had returned home had not helped. Blaming himself all of yesterday for ruining a perfectly good dinner with the woman he… he loved , dammit, there was no point in lying to himself… with the woman he loved had not resolved the issue.

And today, he’d spent almost the last six hours pacing.

Pacing! Like a lovesick swain!

Arthur muttered something to no one in particular. “Stupid, idiotic, foolish brute!”

That was all he was. Two days ago, he’d had the chance to impress the entirety of the Chance family and most importantly, the woman he’d been asking to marry him for weeks.

And what had he done?

Well. At first, he’d been brilliant. But then that line, dismissing her, immediately reducing himself in her eyes… he’d been an absolute imbecile.

“You can’t just stay here worrying about it,” said a voice.

Arthur did not look up from his pacing. “You don’t know a thing about it.”

He wouldn’t have been so rude, except that it was rather a liberty for the man to speak like that at all.

His butler came into view and shrugged. “Servants talk, my lord, and not just within their own households.”

Arthur glared at the man then resumed his pacing, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Yes, he was sure half of Bath knew what a complete fool he’d made of himself at the Aylesbury townhouse. The gossip had probably floated away on the lips of footmen and maidservants, initially, but it would be all over town now.

“I sent a note,” he said curtly.

Haslehaw cleared his throat. “I know, my lord.”

“I mean, I sent a very politely worded letter thanking them,” Arthur burst out, tugging his cravat, which was far too tight. “I sent it to the marchioness as hostess. That was right, wasn’t it?”

This damned earling business—it is far too complicated.

“Yes, I would have said so.”

“But nothing back from the marchioness?”

His tone was almost pleading, as though he could somehow coerce his butler into receiving a reply.

The servant shook his head.

Arthur swore. Of course there wasn’t. The woman had probably heard all about his inane remark from her daughter. Lilianna had been disappointed—disappointed in him. He’d given her a reason to doubt. That doubt had undoubtedly spread through the family.

“And there has been no reply to your other note, either.”

Turning on his heels, Arthur froze. “‘Other note’?”

No one was supposed to know about the other note.

Haslehaw was smiling. “Yes, the other note. The one you wrote specifically to Lady Lilianna. I presume you sent one, my lord. That would be the done thing.”

The done thing. How far had doing the done thing gotten him? Not bloody far.

Yes, damnit, he’d sent a note. “And no reply?”

“None, I am sorry to say, my lord.”

He’d spent a great deal of time on that note. Arthur had never had to send an apology letter to anyone; his mistresses or conquests had always been left very well satisfied, at least by their own accounts, and Arthur had been careful to stay clear of any sort of politics. With his brother as earl, he hadn’t had much else to do.

So yesterday, he’d been faced with his writing desk, sheaves of paper, pen and ink, and absolutely no idea what to say.

Lilianna, I am sorry. I didn’t mean

I don’t know what came over me. I just wanted to impress

I will be anything you want me to be, anything. Just tell me what

It was no good. No matter what he tried to write, the words were inadequate. Nothing could encapsulate the panicked feeling that overwhelmed him whenever he thought of that moment.

“Whoever you want me to be, Lady Lilianna.”

“What is happening to me?” Arthur asked curtly, glaring at his servant. “No woman has ever done this to me!”

“I think you will find this is what happens when one falls in love, my lord,” the butler said delicately. “Not that I am an expert.”

In love. Yes. He’d told himself as much.

In lust, he’d known that from the start. Arthur had known he had wanted Lady Lilianna Chance from the moment she had fallen into his arms. Hot, and squirming, and looking as though she were the devil incarnate.

Her determination not to be impressed by him had only inflamed his desire.

And now… now he was pacing up and down his portrait gallery trying to work out how to win her back, and he wasn’t even sure why he’d been such a damned fool as to lose her.

“What can I do, my lord?”

“Nothing,” Arthur snapped, fury at himself redirecting to his servant. “Nothing at all!”

His butler’s nostrils flared. “In that case, is there anything you can do?”

For a heartbeat, Arthur just glared at the man. Then he swore under his breath and made for the stairs.

In less than five minutes, he had donned a greatcoat and top hat, ignoring his gloves, and marched out onto the street. There was no time to ask Haslehaw to have the carriage sent round or to call a hackney cab; Arthur half-ran, half-walked through the sodden Bath streets after what must have been a downpour he had not noticed. His shoulders were heaving by the time he reached the Aylesbury townhouse, but that did not matter.

A note—what had he been thinking? This sort of apology required an in-person effort.

Precisely what he was going to say had been rehearsed carefully in his mind during the ten minutes of frantic rushing through Bath streets. It went something like this.

Lilianna. You know how I feel about you, and I do not think I have hidden my desire to marry you. I wished to make the best impression possible on your family, whom I know you greatly adore and respect, and so I was careful to bring forward different aspects of my personality to impress them. I wanted to impress them. I wanted to impress you . Please, I am literally begging you. I will get on my knees and beg if need be.

Fine, the ending needed a little work. But the beginning was sound.

When Arthur pulled at the doorbell, he had expected the well-oiled machinery of the Chance household to spring into action. He had already calmed himself sufficiently to present a tranquil expression for whichever footman opened the door.

But it did not open. A full minute passed, and Arthur was just considering pulling at the bell again, when the door finally creaked open slowly.

“My good man,” Arthur began. “I would like to see—”

“I am not your ‘good man,’” said Lilianna with a raised eyebrow. “And I never intend to be.”

His mouth fell open.

This—this was not part of the plan. Where was the footman? Why on earth was Lilianna, a daughter of the house—a house of a marquess—answering her own front door?

“I… I… Wh-What…?”

This was the moment, Arthur told himself furiously, to pull himself together. Hadn’t he spent all day hoping she would reply to his letter? Hadn’t he marched over here because he couldn’t wait any longer?

Speak, man!

Lilianna’s eyebrow remained raised. “Well?”

Well , indeed. Arthur swallowed, mouth dry, but all the clever phrases and the well-reasoned argument that he’d put together faded away into the oozing mess his mind was apparently now made of.

Lilianna. You know how I feel about you, and I do not think I have hidden my desire to marry you.

“Desire,” Arthur croaked. “Marry you.”

Christ, that isn’t it!

Lilianna’s other eyebrow had raised to join the first. “I beg your pardon?”

Arthur rubbed his temple and wondered what on earth this woman had done to him. There had been a time when he had been charming. There had been a time when he had been coherent.

And now here he was, standing on her doorstep— why had Lilianna answered the door?— blabbing about desire and marriage.

“What do you want?” Lilianna asked quietly.

Arthur looked up into her sky-blue eyes and said the only thing that was true. “You.”

Her face softened. “Well. You had better come in, then.”

He half-fell, half-stepped into the Chance house. The place was just as he had remembered it from two days ago, although the sense of bustle and noise was gone. It was quiet. Very quiet.

Too quiet.

“Erm…” Arthur said hesitantly, looking around for a footman to take his greatcoat and hat.

No one appeared. Lilianna did not appear to care; she was stepping across the echoing hallway into a room he had not been in before.

What was he supposed to do now?

Arthur did the only thing that made sense: he followed her.

By God, I would follow that woman anywhere.

When he stepped into the room, he saw it was a breakfast room. The small table was still covered in breakfast things, although it was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon. A single candle was lit in a holder on the sideboard and the curtains were drawn, which was early. There was the same sense of emptiness here, the same… absence. Arthur could not put his finger on it.

Lilianna closed the door behind him and he swallowed. He knew what he did want to put his finger on.

“How may I help you, my lord?” she asked quietly, stepping past him without a second look and seating herself on a chair at the table.

Arthur swallowed. It was an excellent question. “I… I am not sure I know how to answer.”

Lilianna’s imperious look—puckered lips, chin in the air—had returned and it broke his heart. This was the woman he had first met, the cold, aloof version of Lilianna whom he had adored yet wanted more from. He had broken her barriers, crept under the ice-cold sheet around her, knew her better than this.

So why had she retreated?

Other than his abominable rudeness the other day, obviously.

“Aren’t… Aren’t you going to ring for tea?” he said helplessly.

Tea, yes, that was it. The bastion of good society. With a hot cup of tea and perhaps a slice of cake, perhaps he would be prepared to face the onslaught that was surely coming.

A strange flicker moved across Lilianna’s face. “There is no point. No one would come.”

Arthur frowned. Something was wrong here. “Look, what is going on—where is everyone?”

“Gone,” Lilianna said curtly. “Most of them. What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean , gone? You’re not on your own?”

Arthur had spoken without thought, but his eagerness had slipped out in his tone before he could stop it.

Lilianna, alone . The two of them alone together. Able to say what he wanted to say, able to do what he wanted to do. Touch her, kiss her, worship her, show her just what she meant to him in ways he was almost certain she would appreciate.

“I am sorry, you know,” he said aloud, partly to break the silence and partly to break the stream of sensual images streaming past his eyes. He blinked. The real Lilianna, the one still glaring, swam back into view. “I shouldn’t have—I wanted to impress you. I wanted to impress you all.”

“I wanted the real Arthur Nelson, Earl of Taernsby, to meet my family,” Lilianna said stiffly. “What I got was a caricature.”

“No, no, that’s not—”

“Just the same old Taernsby who has charmed so many women and undoubtedly their families,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Arthur stepped over and knelt before her, desperate to be close to her, to look her in the eye as he revealed what he had to admit. “Look, I was honest. I was real.”

“But you were so—so different!” Lilianna sounded pained and he had done that to her. He had hurt her. “How can I trust anything you say, any way that you act?”

He bowed his head for a moment, trying desperately to recall the brilliant speech he had put together on the way over. What was it, something about aspects of personality and care and that sort of thing?

“I… There’s more to me than just being a rake.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lilianna had gone very still. “What did you say?”

Arthur swallowed as he looked up, still kneeling before her. “I said, there’s more to me than just being a rake. I love Ann Radcliffe. I have all her books, and as I said to your brother, most of them are signed. It’s just… It’s never come up before.”

Lilianna’s face was blank, as though attempting to understand what he was saying. “And… And the brandy?”

“I’ve been—well, let us call it importing it for some time,” Arthur said with a wry smile. “At least, my family has. I think the Taernsby cellar has one of the greatest assortments of brandies in the country. It would be no trouble at all to send a few to your father.”

“It’s not about the bottles, it’s about—you gave him the choice of your drink,” Lilianna said, as though she were accusing him of kicking a puppy. “I thought…”

“Is it not polite to do that?” Arthur said, confused now. “I just wanted to be a good guest. I wanted them to like me. I want you to see me as… as part of your family.”

It was horrendous, spilling out these thoughts before her like gifts for a queen. But Arthur would do it all again, kneel at her feet like this and try to explain, if he could achieve the impossible.

A slow smile quirked Lilianna’s lips. “It was really you.”

“It’s not the me who most people see, I will grant you that,” he admitted quietly. “It’s easier to trot out the rake, and don’t get me wrong, that is a part of me too.”

“But not the only part of you.”

Arthur shook his head slowly. “Not at all.”

She examined him closely, as though hunting for some additional truth in his face. Then she sighed, shoulders slumping. Only then did he see the tiredness, the worry in her eyes.

“Humphreys has come down with scarlet fever,” Lilianna said softly.

Arthur leaned back on his haunches and sat, ignoring the impropriety of sitting without being invited, on a chair beside her. “Your butler?”

She nodded. “How on earth the man has managed to get through life without catching it by now, I do not know. But then, neither has Frank.”

Frank. The sister—the one he had presumed would be a brother.

Fear gripped Arthur. “She has it?”

“The doctor advised that she leave Bath immediately,” Lilianna said hastily. “As far as we know, she is unaffected, but staying here…”

“Not worth the risk.”

Her nod was sage, quiet, concerned. “Mama and Papa took her to Stanphrey Lacey—it’s the family seat. Really, it’s the property of my Uncle William, but they returned to London last week and so it was empty. Samuel went too.”

Well, that would explain the quiet in the place. But the second brother, and the servants, where were they?

“It all got somewhat complicated,” Lilianna said with a laugh, in that unerring way she had of reading his thoughts. “Benjamin has taken Humphreys to a convalescent home, as he’ll get the best treatment there, and most of our maids went with my parents and Frank to Stanphrey Lacey. They’ll need the additional help. Two footmen haven’t had scarlet fever, either, so they’ve gone to their families on full pay…”

She trotted out the list of where everyone in the household had gone, but Arthur wasn’t listening. He was far too busy making sure that he did not lean forward and kiss this woman firmly on the mouth in his relief that she was unaffected.

Scarlet fever… a terrible sickness, one that could rush through a family and steal many lives.

That explained why the marchioness had not replied to his note. Selfish though it was, Arthur could not help but be a tad relieved. He had not offended the Chance family. He did not have to redeem himself.

“—which leaves myself,” Lilianna said with a wry look. “There was insufficient room in the carriage for me to accompany Frank, and… and I wanted to stay here.”

Arthur frowned. “Why?”

“Because of you,” she said simply.

Excitement sparked. “So… So you’re here all alone?”

Now this was a turn up for the books, and no mistake.

Lilianna’s glare was potent. “ Arthur Nelson ! Absolutely not. I am here with my maid, Clarke. She agreed to stay behind. Her mother is a cook and so she will see to my meals.”

“But not to cleaning up?” Arthur said, gesturing at the table covered with dirty plates. He should have guessed something was wrong—only two sets of plates. “And she’s eating with you?”

“Why not? It seemed silly for me to eat alone up here and for her to eat alone downstairs,” Lilianna pointed out.

So the maid was still here. That ruled out some of the more delectable things Arthur had immediately started to hope for.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said hastily.

Not hastily enough. Lilianna grinned—and there she was, his Lilianna, the one he had coaxed out of her ice palace and held and kissed.

“You’re a terrible liar, Arthur. Which I suppose is all to the good—because it means I can trust you—but honestly . You think I don’t know what you were thinking?”

It’s a trap, isn’t it?

“Ahh,” Arthur said helplessly, shifting on his chair with no idea what to say next. “I… Uh…”

“You’ve had enough mistresses for me to know precisely what you want,” Lilianna said, leaning back and perusing him as if he were a book. “Don’t think I don’t know what you want.”

He swallowed, mouth dry, pulse throbbing in his ears, loins tight. And am I going to get it?

Not a question he could ask aloud.

“Why are you here, Arthur?” Lilianna asked softly. “I need to know.”

“I wanted to explain, to apologize—”

“I don’t mean here , now ,” she said, interrupting him and reaching out to take his hand. “I mean… Why are you pursuing me? Why me?”

Arthur tried to think as her soft fingers placed a gentle pressure on his own. How precisely he was supposed to think, he was not sure.

“And I want the truth.”

Of course she did. The trouble was, Arthur wasn’t entirely sure of the truth himself. He’d told himself he loved her. But how did he explain that to her? Explain why she, of all women, had been the first—the only—to inspire such declarations from his soul?

He looked up, catching her sparkling eyes and seeing the need in her. Not just the need to be touched, to be satisfied by him, although that was certainly there. No, there was another need. The need to hear the truth. To be trusted.

Arthur took a deep breath. “I told you before, weeks ago, that I needed a wife. Heirs.”

Lilianna nodded. “The portrait gallery.”

The first deep breath had not been enough, but Arthur did not seem able to coerce his lungs to take another. “Well, that is true—but it’s not the only truth. These things, they are not never that simple.”

“Like you.”

He let out a laugh. “Something like that.”

Strange. In this breakfast room in the silent house, inhabited by only them and a maid somewhere about the place, it was easy to fool himself into thinking that this was their home. That their life together had already begun.

“It was easy to fool myself into thinking it was the only reason,” Arthur said haltingly. “Easier to think that than to admit that I was lonely. And when I saw you… Christ, I’d never believed in love at first sight.”

“You do now?” Her voice was taut, uncertain, curious.

Forcing himself to meet her gaze, Arthur told the truth. “I don’t know. What I felt for you in that moment, it defies logic. It defies everything that I thought I was.”

“A rake.”

He had to laugh at that. “I suppose so. I knew I was more, but I’d kept it hidden away. I hadn’t seen the point in bringing it forward. No one wanted to know the younger brother of an earl. And you—Lilianna, you’re so impressive and—”

Lilianna’s scoff halted him. “Don’t give me the routine, Arthur, I’m not one of your conquests.”

“I know you’re not! You’re a woman who knows what she’s worth!”

Something in his words stopped her laughter. Lilianna’s eyes fixed on him, flickering only momentarily to his mouth before she said, “You truly think so?”

Arthur leaned forward and captured her free hand with his own. Here they sat, hand in hand. If not now, when? “Lilianna, I had not even known what I was looking for, until I found it. Until I found you. You’re… You’re everything I want. Everything I will ever want.”

It felt strange, exposing himself like this. Arthur had always looked down on men who had been so devoted to their wives. And yet that was all he wanted to do for this woman, his woman. Betray his own strength, tear down his walls, and show her, bleed out his affection.

Dear God, I am long gone.

“I want you,” he revealed. “I meant it, at your front door. You are what I want, Lilianna. And I know there’s only a small chance in hell that you’ll have me, but—”

“Then have me,” Lilianna said, interrupting him with a smile that was paired with flushing cheeks. “Have me, Arthur.”

Arthur blinked. “You—You’ll marry me?”

“Yes,” said Lilianna simply as a mischievous grin crept across her lips. “After you have me.”