“Shall we say ten of the clock?” The current dance ended, and two young ladies dressed in white satin, on the arms of escorts and bubbling with excitement, returned to their seats in time to hear his offer to call. Their animation was audible, causing Lilian to blush.
She nodded her assent. “I look forward to it, my lord,” she added.
It was done. Perhaps a day in her company would solve the feelings he had had this past year. It could only be a fascination. Once he had met with her and spent time in her company, he felt certain the dreams would leave. He was only concerned for her safety, after all. His conscience wrestled with what had occurred. The accident had cut her down, an innocent young lady, and he felt somewhat responsible, even if he had arrived in time to help her. However, something else troubled him. What if he actually developed deeper feelings for this girl?
Harlow needed some fresh air. He had had enough of this dreary ball and asked a footman to retrieve his cloak. Lilian Delacey seemed nothing like her brother, Jonathan, Viscount DeLacey, whose arrogance grated on his nerves. They had all been friends in school until DeLacey joined a group of boys overly obsessed with their positions in society, who frequently tried to make those beneath them the butt of jokes.Mother nagged me into coming,he grumbled to himself.However, seeing Lilian DeLacey has made the evening worthwhile.His purpose for attending unexpectedly fulfilled, he felt no further need to be here.
Secure in his coach, he settled comfortably into the red leather squabs and rested his feet on the seat in front of him, trying to clear his mind. Despite his best efforts, however, meeting Lady Lilian took his thoughts back to the day of the accident, a day he recalled vividly.
He and Max Wilde had just gained Lord Avalon’s assistance in curtailing the source of increasing smuggling in the area. Tintagel’s close proximity to Cornwall was noteworthy, and a survivor from a recent wrecked ship—allegedly pirated by locals—had managed to get word to Customs and Excise of rumours swirling about a location in Tintagel. The description was nebulous, but pointed to a well-known public house, one run by a woman and her brother. The smuggling seemed concentrated on ships known to carry silks, brandy and spices. There were several taverns in Tintagel, and they suspected that the DeLacey land held a piece of the puzzle, for Avalon’s property ran down to the cliffs. The two men had been in the area for a few days, exploring the town and trying to smoke out any undercurrents of smuggling activity.
Harlow had been surprised to learn of Avalon’s ties to his own commanding officer, Lieutenant-General Martin DeLacey. He had suggested they ride out to meet his cousin and gain his assistance. Their new dealings were to be explained as a venture with the East India Company, if others asked. The meeting with Lord Avalon had been as anticipated. He had told them he would meet with his man of business and set up an account to establish legitimacy, should there be any question. Having concluded business with Lord Avalon, they were heading back to their lodgings in town when the accident happened.
The road the men travelled ran below a beautiful ridge. Laughter drew Harlow’s attention to the two young ladies above, both riding like the wind. Unbound, their dark hair flowed like water in the breeze, while the teasing sounds of their girlish chuckles called to him. An older groom trailed behind them and it appeared that they were deliberately outmanoeuvring the poor fellow. Harlow at once recognized the girls, being one who prided himself on never forgetting a face. They were the Earl’s twin daughters; he had noticed them at a recent London ball. He had been charmed by both of them, but the one in the sapphire gown had immediately drawn his interest. Their eyes had met when he entered the room, even though he had made no move to meet her.
Harlow had no interest in the marriage mart. Nevertheless, he continually dreamed and the moments surrounding Lady Lilian’s accident haunted his sleep still, joining other nightmares from the war which also plagued him. Whenever she came to mind, usually during his dreams, he relived that scene. She was riding a horse, there was a shot and she was thrown from her mount, then to slide and roll over a dozen or more protruding rocks. The same dream repeated itself over and over, making him wake up in a cold sweat.What was so special about this lady?
His mother had continually attempted to cajole him into finding a lady to marry so she could have grandchildren, even going so far as to trick him into meetings with the latest debutante beauty. He had resisted. It was not that he did not wish to marry, but what woman would want to have a man who screamed in terror during the night?
He had admired Lilian’s and her sister’s pluck that fateful day. Avalon’s wife had planned to introduce her daughters and had had the audacity to invite both Max and him to join her in the parlour when her husband’s meeting ended. He chuckled, thinking about the empty parlour. The girls had escaped, taking to their horses before she could gain their attendance. Although Lady Avalon did not seem one to let her temper get the better of her, the tight-lipped smile the Countess had worn while she made small talk and served tea to them both had told him there would be more to come. This mother had planned a reckoning with her daughters.
Harlow appreciated a woman with a streak of independence, although that could not be said of many of his friends. When he spotted Avalon’s daughters galloping neck and neck along the ridge that day, he was further intrigued. Both horses reared at the sudden shot. Max’s and his horses neighed in alarm but were more accustomed, due to service in the war, to loud noises, and the men were able to maintain control. The girl in the blue habit lost her seat and disappeared from his view.
The shot sounded close, as if it had come from his left. Luckily the bullet missed them all. However, since that fateful day he had often wondered if the shot had been accidental?Had the bullet been meant for them?
Chapter 3
Lilian had seen the handsome gentleman glance her way more than once and always with a heart-melting smile. She tried her best not to stare in his direction, yet found her eyes drawn to him, nonetheless. As dancers swished their way across the floor, she strained to catch sight of him from the corner of her eye and made small excuses to herself each time she realized what she was doing. Seeking her mother’s whereabouts was the last excuse she offered, a ridiculous pretence quite unworthy of her intelligence.
Mama had not left the side of the hostess, Lady Smyth, and her friends since she had returned to them following Lilian’s own introduction to Lord Harlow, barely an hour ago. What was even more distressing, each time she looked in her mother’s direction, Mama and her friends were looking in hers, forcing her to give what Mama referred to as herpretend smile. No matter, she justified, it would have to do since she was not interested in being here. Well, she thought, with a tiny twitch of her lips, she had not been until an hour ago.
If she had not become such a cynic this past year, she would have believed—no, she would have wished—John Andrews to be her Prince Charming. Indeed, he looked every bit the gentleman she would have imagined. His thick, wavy brown hair hung to the top of his collar, framing a square, dimpled chin. His broad shoulders accentuated a smaller waist, drawing her attention to his very athletic body. He stood taller than many of the men in the room, a quality that, as she perused his body from the vantage of her chair, looked imposing.
A flash of red caused her to look in his direction.Is he leaving?Quickly, she turned her head away from him, in case he looked back, and realized she had barely noticed anything or anyone other thanhimsince she had made his acquaintance. She shook her head, summoning the will to think of anything else except his sparkling blue eyes and the smile that warmed her to her toes whenever he flashed it in her direction.Think of…anything but him, she ordered herself. Lilian squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping she would see something different when she opened them.
This cannot be happening. She groaned inwardly. Lord Harlow’s red uniform was too easy to spot, and she watched him make his way towards the front of the room, stopping to speak with the hostess, her two daughters, and Lilian’s own mother. A woman dressed in a red satin and gold gown, with reddish-blonde hair in an elaborately jewelled chignon, sauntered from behind him and hastily placed her gloved hand on his arm. She must have said something to the other women, because they immediately stepped back from Lord Harlow, and walked away, whispering.How will I ask Mama about her without it becoming a point of discussion with her?Lilian allowed herself to think about that, certain her mother had information, while she studied the correlation between them all from her safe vantage point; watching their body movements with keen interest. She was becoming adept at predicting people’s moods by watching their body and their expressions. The wheel-chair provided plenty of opportunity for her to perfect this skill.
Who is that woman?After a few minutes, Lord Harlow leaned in the woman’s direction and whispered…something. The woman pulled back, laughed and swatted his arm with her fan, but the scene seemed wrong—almost forced. The woman tapped his arm once again and nodded, almost imperceptibly, before she strolled towards a man standing by the refreshment table.Did she and Lord Harlow plan a later assignation?A strange feeling hit the pit of Lilian’s stomach and warmth shot up her neck.Was that jealousy?Impossible!She used the notebook in her reticule to fan her face before remembering her delicate white lace satin fan was hanging from her arm. She whipped open the folds, moving the object quickly to create a breeze across the sudden moistness on her face and neck. Scanning the room, Lilian spotted the open door to the terrace, wishing herself out there. Hundreds of beeswax candles had warmed the room miserably, and the dark pink colour of the walls added to a morbid fear of being closed into a small space.
Peering through the dancers, Lilian spotted her sister twirling about, now waltzing with Lord Richard Yarstone. Her soft, peach silk dress gently wrapped the sides of her legs as they twirled, her golden slippers protruding ever so subtly from beneath. Lord Yarstone was naught if not persistent where Lydia was concerned. Lilian thought they reciprocated each other’s feelings.And,if she counted correctly, that was the second dance for them—together. She smiled to herself.Theymight not be counting, however, it was a certainty Mama was doing so. She tallied everything, unfortunately.
Lord Yarstone would arrive promptly at ten of the clock. She expected the front parlour would be lined with white roses tomorrow, his usual choice. White roses signified new beginnings and everlasting love. It was everything that Lydia deserved.
A wistful sigh escaped Lilian, causing her to clap her hand to her mouth and look around, embarrassed. The surrounding girls were absorbed in conversation and had not seemed to notice her. That was part of the problem—she felt unworthy of notice. Lydia’s acquaintance with Lord Yarstone was becoming more serious. It was what she wanted, and Lilian was pleased for her sister. However, this only added to the lacklustre feeling which had crept over her of late about her own life, sitting here with naught except an oversized wheel-chair as her steady companion. Her sister, her best friend, would marry and leave home, separating them for the first time in their lives.
Suddenly feeling rather overwhelmed, Lilian was ready to leave. She had promised to come, and she had fulfilled her part of the bargain. She hung her head, as much for shame as despair at her thoughts. She was so lost in her thoughts she failed to see her sister and Lord Yarstone approaching.
“Are you ready to depart, Lilian?” Lydia’s eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth.
Already?“Truly?”Lydia is ready to leave? Unheard of.She subtly turned to the door in time to see Lord Harlow exit the ballroom, and a quiver ran up her arm. It was hard to be unaffected by his dashing presence, particularly so when he wore his crisp, red uniform. “Yes, Lydia, if you are prepared.” She smiled weakly, keeping her enthusiasm at bay on purpose. “It is a little warm on this side of the room, especially since there are no exits.” She gave a few more flaps of the fan, as if to emphasize her point, before putting it away.
“I agree, it is rather warm.”
“Lady Lilian, may I fetch your chair for you?” Lord Yarstone inquired.
Containing a sly smile, she nodded and watched him retrieve her chair from behind the small arch of potted plants. The plants were delicately intertwined to affect a small garden of greenery that curved to embellish the corner of the room.Besottedwas the word Father had used when describing Lord Yarstone.
“You must tell me all,” Lydia whispered softly, grinning. “I sawhimtalking to you.” She emphasized the wordhim.“And do not pretend you do not know of whom I am speaking, sister.”
