“Of course.” He said it without hesitation. Even if Mrs. Manning despised him, even if he never understood why or changed those thoughts, he would never deny his wife the pleasure of the company of her sister. That seemed cruel beyond measure. He might be a great many things, but he never wanted to be cruel.
Miss Westinghouse let out a shaky sigh and he could see the relief wash over her face. “That’s wonderful. Thank you, Lockhart. And I’m certain you two will be friends, as well. No one could know Lily and not love her.”
He wasn’t at all certain of that fact yet, but he smiled nonetheless to further comfort her. “I’ll do my best, Miss Westinghouse.”
“My lords and ladies, supper is served,” Reeves intoned from the door, an interruption to the conversation.
George held out an elbow to Miss Westinghouse and she took it. He frowned, for once again there was no physical reaction in him at all to her touch, despite a conversation that was far more personal than any they’d ever shared before. Still he had to hope they were on the right track now. And he would just have to try harder to make himself feel something for her.
It was the only way.
CHAPTER6
Lily hadn’t slept more than a few restless hours the night before. Instead, she had tossed and turned, thoughts racing through her mind, heartbreaking pain threatening to crush her.
And when shehadmanaged to drift off? She’d dreamed the same dreams she’d been having since the night of the Donville Masquerade. She’d dreamed ofhim. His low voice in her ear, his hands on her, his mouth on her, only this time he wasn’t her fantasy Ares, he was Lockhart. And he was clean shaven, his hair trimmed, every inch the very man who was just down the hallway from her now.
Dreams that had once been erotic and pleasing for her had now woken her bolt upright, sweaty with desire and shaking with self-loathing for the same.
She’d risen at dawn, calling for Susan to ready her, and now, a few hours later, she roamed the still manor house, trying to find some way to forget what she’d done.
The calm and beauty of the home around her certainly helped. There was a quiet sophistication to these halls, with their richly painted or tapestried walls, fine artwork mixed with portraits of ancient family faces and modern furniture pieces. No one who visited here would doubt they were amongst important people with a long history of power and influence.
But there was also warmth to be found in tiny details in the chambers. There was a well-worn chair in one of the parlors with a half-finished needlepoint set on its arm. Was it Lady Kirkwood’s, brought to help pass her time here while she celebrated her cousin’s wedding? Or perhaps it belonged to Lady Pembrooke. She would have to ask later, as she also enjoyed the pastime and she wished to compliment the owner of the piece. It was so neat and finely done.
On a mantel in another room was a pretty cigar box, engraved with a flourishedP. Certainly that was Lord Pembrooke’s since she didn’t recall the smell or taste of cigar smoke on Lockhart. She could imagine the older earl standing there as he watched over his family, puffing his cigar.
There were miniatures beneath glass in another room. She thought perhaps they were displayed this way purposefully, for when travelers inquired with the house staff for a tour when the family wasn’t in residence. Certainly, anyone in the county would want a glimpse of this fine place. And yet the miniatures were so lively. Lord and Lady Pembrooke were displayed, an image from years ago, perhaps even painted when they were first engaged. Each little painting faced the other, as if the couple were staring into each other’s eyes.
Then there was a miniature of who Lily believed was Lady Kirkwood, as a young girl. She truly was a favorite cousin to be held at the same level as the rest of the family. And next to her was one of Lockhart. Despite the picture being from his youth, there was no mistaking those startling eyes or the hint of a wicked smile on those lips. When this was painted had he already visited the Donville Masquerade for the first time? Was he already on the path that would inevitably lead him to her?
She shook her head. Why did every single moment have to drag her back to that one? This tour was meant to stop these feelings, not stoke them.
At any rate, those little details helped her feel the beating heart of the family that sometimes was hidden in the pretentious lines of the Upper Ten Thousand. Including her own. Her father and Prudence had been careful about public perception. Perhaps because their quick marriage after her mother’s death had caused a bit of a scandal when it happened. As a result, they never left anything real out for others to see.
She sighed as she turned yet another corner and found herself face-to-face with Lady Kirkwood, who was coming from the other direction.
“Oh, Mrs. Manning!” the countess said with a wide smile. “Good morning.”
“My lady,” Lily returned with a respectful incline of her head. Here she had been so looking forward to meeting this woman, who was a friend to Esme and her sister-in-law Marianne. Now she could only worry what Lockhart’s cousin would think of her if she knew the truth. This stolen night had a ripple effect that Lily supposed she deserved.
“You look as though you had a restful night. We missed you at supper.” Lady Kirkwood stepped closer with a genuine smile.
Lily’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. “I do apologize for my absence.”
She said nothing more for she didn’t want to lie to this woman’s face and she certainly couldn’t tell her the truth of why she’d fled the Lockhart’s company. The reaction to that would be something to behold, she had no doubt. Even Lady Kirkwood’s friendship with Esme wouldn’t protect her from this woman’s disgust at what Lily had done.
The other woman examined her a moment, her brow furrowing slightly, but she didn’t press the issue further. “Are you taking a tour of the estate?”
“A little self-guided one, yes,” Lily said. “I saw a pretty needlepoint in one of the parlors. Was it yours?”
“Oh, heavens no,” Clarissa said. “I do needlepoint, of course. A lady always should, I was taught. But it must belong to my aunt. She’s a marvel.”
Lily nodded. “She truly is, and I shall tell her so when next I see her. The piece was wonderful. As is the house.”
“It is,” Lady Kirkwood agreed with a sigh of pleasure. “I did adore the times we came here when I was a child.”
“Yes, my sister tells me you are very close your aunt and uncle and…and Lockhart.”
