Frowning, he tried the left-hand drawer and found it entirely empty. Obviously his uncle wasn’t much of a man of business—which might be the reason he was so deeply in debt. The right-hand drawer, unlike the other two, was locked.
Apollo had his head bent, examining the lock as well as he could in the dim light, when a voice interrupted.
“What are you doing at my desk, sirrah?”
Apollo nearly hit his head on the desk. He looked up and found his uncle frowning at him. He opened his mouth to lie… and found he was simply too tired to do so.
He sat back in his uncle’s chair, making it squeak with his weight. “I’m looking for evidence that you murdered three men in order to steal my inheritance and title.”
The older man’s mouth dropped open. “You… what?”
Apollo sighed. “I’m your nephew, Apollo Greaves, Viscount Kilbourne.” He bowed mockingly. “At your service, naturally.”
“Kilbourne…” William Greaves backed up, nearly dropping his candle. “You’re mad.”
“No,” Apollo said patiently, if a little grimly, “I’m really not, and you of all people should know it.”
“Why’re you here?” William asked, apparently not following the conversation at all.
Apollo started to rise, but the other man gave a little shriek and held out both hands. “Stay where you are! Don’t come near!”
“Uncle,” Apollo said quietly.
“No!” The other man dashed from the room, moving quite swiftly considering his age.
Apollo’s brows rose.
“Help! Help! Murder!” screamed his uncle, his voice diminishing as he ran away.
Well, that settled that.
Apollo picked up the candle and strode out of the room. He met a single footman as he made his way to Lily’s room, but he simply nodded and kept walking. Below, he could hear the household rousing as his uncle called the alarm.
Miraculously, she was still sleeping when he entered her bedroom.
He sighed, taking one last look at her peacefully slumbering form, and then reached down and shook her shoulder hard. “Lily.”
“What?” she asked sleepily. She sat up as she heard the commotion. “Apollo!”
“Shh.” He sat on the side of the bed. “I love you.”
Her eyes went wide. “I…”
“There isn’t time,” he said calmly. “My uncle has discovered me and will come with all his footmen to detain me soon. I have to flee.”
She blinked and took a deep breath. “Of course.”
“Meet me tomorrow night,” he said, looking into her eyes to make sure she didn’t mistake him. “In the garden by the pond where you saw me bathing. Do you remember?”
“I… yes.” Even now he was charmed by the blush that pinkened her cheeks.
“About six of the clock, I think. If there’s any trouble, send word to Makepeace,” he said, rising. There were footsteps approaching. He turned and kissed her fast and hard. “I love you. Never forget that.”
Then he rushed the door.
There were two footmen plus the middle-aged butler. Apollo shoved the butler out of his way, and would’ve done the same to the footmen had not one swung at him. Apollo knocked aside the man’s blow and drove the point of his elbow into the man’s belly, doubling him over. The remaining footman backed up a step, obviously torn between duty and the desire to keep his ribs intact. Apollo feinted with his right and when the man flinched back, gave him an additional push to make him fall. Then he was running down the hall past half-dressed ladies and gentlemen who didn’t do very much to stop him.
Wheeling around the corner, he half slid down the main staircase, past a startled Mr. Warner, obviously returning from a room not his own—most interesting—and then he was out the front doors and running.