Chapter Seven

Exploring Lilly’s Nature

1815

Following that first drive to the park, after that first kiss, Lilly’s life revolved around the occasions when she would see him again. Her mother cautioned her against wearing her heart upon her sleeve. Every morning, in fact, over breakfast, she chastised Lilly for making herself too available to the captain.

“Men,” she told Lilly, “even gentlemen, appreciate the thrill of the chase.”

But not Michael.

He was different.

Her mother then changed tactics and began taking extra pains to ensure for meticulous chaperonage. She either performed the duty herself or instructed the maids with strict rules regarding the diligence required.

The freedom Lilly had experienced at the Willoughby ball was not to be experienced at any subsequent events. Her mother never allowed her to dance with Captain Redmond more than two times, and, when they attempted to walk out onto a terrace or patio, either her mama or her aunt watched them—never far away.

The moments in which they were able to steal some privacy, without a watchful chaperone, were limited to open carriage rides and an occasional moment in the drawing room with the door open. Her aunt or mother always nearby.

And Lilly had made some friends.

Somewhat isolated since her sister’s death, Lilly hadn’t had many such opportunities back in Plymouth. She’d nearly forgotten the pleasure to be had with ladies her own age. Furthermore, they’d so enjoyed their first shopping trip, it had become the first of many such outings.

Rarely a day passed that she, Caroline Harris, and Penelope Crone hadn’t made plans of some sort. And they complemented one another’s personalities.

Caroline, bubbly and outgoing, had a tendency to point out absurdities as they toured about town. Penelope frowned upon the absurd and was very opinionated. She liked to discuss and ridicule the rules women were forced to follow—rules, she never failed to point out—that had been established by men. Between the two of them, the girls added a sense of whimsy and inventiveness to Lilly’s days.

These outings also made a much-needed distraction from her feelings for Michael, which at times, overwhelmed her. Being able to enjoy herself, apart from him, grounded Lilly and reassured her mother. There was a certain vulnerability a lady felt when one other person became so essential to her happiness.

One particularly sunny morning, while wandering through various shops with their maids discreetly behind them, the girls coincidentally met up with Mr. Harris, Viscount Danbury, and Captain Redmond. This chance meeting was fortunate, for they realized quickly that, when gadding about in a group of both ladies and gentlemen, chaperones weren’t nearly as intrusive.

Amongst a cluster of such friends, a courting couple could find themselves afforded some unexpected leniency. Michael, clever as he was, took full advantage of these opportunities. It was as though the springtime was made for them—made for their love.

Toward the end of the season, Michael told Lilly he wished to show her his estate in the south. He told her he would speak with her father but wished for her to see his home, first. It wasn’t dreadfully far from London, near Southampton, but the journey would take two days by carriage. They would need to make the trip in a manner that would not harm Lilly’s reputation.

During tea one afternoon, Aunt Eleanor solved the conundrum.

She suggested the captain make a house party of it. If she and Mrs. Bridge chaperoned the group of young people, the break from town would be considered utterly respectable.

Michael didn’t want to delay.

He would leave the next day with Danbury, and they could address any repairs necessary before the party arrived. Lilly and the other guests would not leave town until Sunday. Three days later!

Melancholy at the thought of not seeing Michael for all of five days, she attempted to suggest they all travel together.

But her mother restrained her exuberance. If Lilly did not show some patience in all of this, her mother promised her, they could forego the journey altogether.

Her mother didn’t understand. What with all of this longing for him and aching for him!

There was some consolation, however, in that Viscount Danbury had planned a party at Vauxhall for that very night. The evening promised to be romantic, indeed!

Every season Danbury and his mother hosted their friends in a private booth. Upon hearing that the viscountess would be present, Lady Eleanor and Mrs. Bridge relinquished their rather demanding duties as chaperones with relief. It had been a busy season, and they were run down from attempting to keep up with the young people so far. They welcomed a quiet evening at home.

The weather was perfect that evening, and as the sun dipped behind the horizon, a warm breeze barely stirred the leaves on the perfectly placed trees. There was no threat of rain, not a single cloud. Nearly bursting with excitement, Lilly stood at the railing of the barge with Michael by her side.

She wore another new dress, purchased by her aunt, this one more risqué than her others. Aunt Eleanor wasn’t nearly as prudish as her mother could be.

The bodice, although not quite scandalous, displayed a tantalizing hint of cleavage and the back was cut daringly low as well. Made of a vibrant blue silk chiffon, the simple cut of the nearly backless dress was more sophisticated than anything she had ever worn. When they had departed from her aunt’s town house, Lilly wore a shawl, covering the exposed skin on her back. Had her mother seen it, she would not have allowed Lilly to set foot out the door.

Whether it was due to the dress or the fact that Michael was departing the next day, Lilly’s mood was unusually daring that night. Up until that point, they’d managed to steal but a few kisses since the initial ride in the park. And those kisses had been short and sweet, as there had always been a chaperone nearby.

Like every other lady attending the gardens that night, Lilly was warned not to separate from her group when exploring the meandering paths in the forest. Even Aunt Eleanor told her to remain only on the paths that were illuminated with lanterns. The other trails, she’d said, could be quite hazardous to a woman’s virtue.

Of course, these warnings merely served to pique Lilly’s curiosity. And by the time she’d climbed into the carriage, she was already hoping she and Michael might find themselves lost together on one of these very same dangerous trails.

A roguish look from Michael suggested he had similar designs.

Danbury had reserved one of the more extravagant boxes for their party which allowed for a protected vantage point in which to dine and watch the revelry. The viscountess insisted that anything else would have been common and vulgar. Gently bred young ladies did not eat in public.

For the first hour or so, everybody stayed in the supper box, drinking champagne and sampling the sliced ham and strawberries provided. There was an orchestra and dancing and a great deal more to see, however, and the younger people soon announced their intent to explore the famous gardens.

Michael and Lilly, Harris and Penelope, and Danbury and Caroline stepped out into the merriment with warnings that under no circumstances were they to allow themselves to be separated from each other. Nodding reassurances toward the viscountess, they were quickly swallowed by the river of revelers strolling among the amusements. Colorful paper lanterns illuminated their way, casting the night in a mystical light, with shadows laden with opportunity.

As they drew close to the music, Michael swung Lilly around playfully, in a very un-ton-like dance. Her curls, so carefully pinned up earlier, quickly came undone and tumbled down her back. The sensation of locks of hair caressing her exposed skin lured Lilly into shedding inhibitions which had been drilled into her for years.

With the music, the people, the champagne, the lanterns and shadows everywhere, the festival atmosphere enchanted Lilly. She laughed and danced freely. Her body humming all the while.

Michael’s fingers brushed along her back often and with a possessiveness he’d not shown so openly before. And as he watched her, a tension built inside him.

He’d known she was beautiful all along, but tonight…well, there was something different about her. She’d somehow woven a spell around him, his very own Aphrodite. He kept hold of her, jealously, as they were pulled along the throng of merrymakers. Even before she’d had any champagne, her eyes watched him boldly. There’d been a hunger in her gaze, very similar to what he himself felt. He knew she dreaded the short separation awaiting them both tomorrow.

As did he.

With youthful exuberance, she threw her head back to watch the fireworks. But she was not so caught up in them as one might believe. For after just a few explosions, she glanced out of the side of her eyes toward him. Her slow smile was a secret invitation that only he could read. In that moment, he knew, with every fiber of his being, that there would never be another woman he would want as badly.

He would be the man to awaken her deepest passions. He would one day feel her tremble with need for him, skin on skin, and bury himself inside of her. He craved to touch every part of her, knowing she burned for him too.

Since that first glance, he’d known their connection was special. Tonight, however, brought with it an awareness that the emotions he experienced were much more than a passing attraction.

He wanted to be the person with whom she shared her soul.

He loved her. He wanted her love as well. No, he needed her love—desperately.

With a suddenness that surprised her, he grasped her hand and pulled her away from the crowd onto a nearby path in the woods. She followed him, lifting her skirts so she could keep up with his pace. As the fireworks popped and exploded in the sky, Lilly ran with him brazenly.

Spying an opening, exactly what he had been looking for, he drew her off the main path and into the darkness. Like a hidden portal, it beckoned them into a conveniently secluded retreat. There was a thick branch, growing sideways, keeping them from disappearing any deeper. Michael maneuvered Lilly so she leaned against the branch. And even though they both breathed heavily from their mad dash, he did not pause to rest.

Instead, he hungrily sought her kiss.

He’d waited for this all night—good God—all spring. That’s what this tension had been. Being so near her and not being able to make love to her had tormented him for weeks now.

Like a flower in full bloom, her lips opened, soft and welcoming. She pressed herself into him, demanding more. Like a vixen, she nipped at his tongue lightly with her teeth.

Michael had never imagined she could abandon herself to him so utterly, so completely. She clutched at him as though he was a lifeline. Closer, she wanted him closer.

He’d not resist her demand.

He didn’t just kiss her. He tasted, he probed, he explored. His tongue discovered the tender skin on the inside of her cheek, the roof of her mouth. His hands were equally inquisitive.

One of them caressed its way down her naked back and then slipped inside her dress. His other hand reached up to cup her breast and squeeze it gently, testing its weight. So perfect. So soft.

His mouth drifted down her neck, tasting all her sweetness as he went. Lilly’s head was thrown back. She panted in faint little gasps.

“More,” Lilly whispered, her hands in his hair. Her words fueled the inferno already blazing inside of him. “More.”

Michael complied, pulling her short, puffed sleeves down her arms, exposing both of her breasts to the sultry night air. In awe of her, he held himself still, simply gazing at her in the shadowed moonlight.

And then she licked her lips.

Putting his hands on her waist, he abruptly lifted her up to sit on the branch. Unable to stop himself, his mouth sought out the puckered tip of one breast. As he suckled, his hands clutched at her dress and petticoats. Understanding, in perfect harmony with his needs, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. He wanted to free himself and press into her warmth and dampness. She would be wet. She would be ready for him.

But she was also shivering.

She was so sweet. She was a virgin. She would one day be his completely.

But not tonight.

“Lilly.” He gasped for breath. “I need to stop.”

She tightened her legs around his waist. “No!”

“Lilly,” he said again, burying his forehead under her chin. “Not here. Not now.” He was but a hair’s breadth from coming completely undone.

As a hint of sanity began to niggle its way back into Lilly’s passion clouded thoughts, she dropped her legs from around his waist.

They sat quietly, holding each other as their breathing slowed. Michael turned his head and pressed his ear against her chest. The beat of her heart squeezed at his own.

“I will speak to your father.” He finally found his voice. “When will he arrive in London? If not soon, then I will journey to Plymouth myself.”

“He should be here when we return from your house party.” There was a smile in her voice. She was everything he ever wanted.

Remembering he was leaving tomorrow, he pulled her closer once again.

“I wish I could go with you.” It was as though she read his mind.

Michael laughed and moaned a little, both at the same time. “I’d have to take you to Gretna Green first, my love.” He then lifted his face to gaze into her golden eyes. “Be patient, Lilly. We have the rest of our lives.”

She nodded, touching his face. She seemed to marvel at his whiskers. His jaw was roughened slightly as his recent shave had been early that morning. Her eyes were warm and loving.

“I can’t wait to see your home. I will love it, you know, simply because it is yours.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Michael was uncertain as to how much work awaited him, but he would make the repairs himself, if necessary. He wanted it to be perfect for her.

Before his resolve left him, Michael pulled Lilly’s dress up to return her to modesty. With his assistance, she hopped off the branch and then attempted to straighten her skirts. He watched her, smiling, as she did her best to tidy up. She had leaves in her hair, and her skirts were twisted tightly around her.

“Hold still, love,” he said. He plucked the leaves and twigs out of her hair and then tugged at her dress in a few strategic places. “Now, turn around.”

As she did so, she looked over her shoulder watching him. “You’re rather good at this, you know.” She sounded surprised as he brushed some dirt off the back of her skirt. “Now come here. Let me fix your hair. It’s all mussed up.”

“Who’s to blame for that?” he teased but did as she asked and then delighted in her touch as she massaged his scalp lovingly.

He would have her touch every day. Soon.

Over the past several weeks, they had cultivated this connection, this…relationship. He had never imagined being blessed with a wife whom he could love so thoroughly. He was a lucky man indeed.

****

“When I’ve visited before, I paid more attention to the farming side. I barely looked in the house…God, I hope it’s not in ruins.”

Danbury chuckled and shook his head. The two men had been friends since they attended Eton. They reminisced for a while as they made their way out of town, and then Hugh sighed loudly.

“You are going to offer for her, then?” he asked as they rode leisurely heading south.

Michael looked over at his friend and nodded. “As soon as her father arrives in London.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. How can you be ready for this? You’ve just returned from war, and already you are taking on a wife. Hell, man, you’ll be setting up your nursery come Christmas.” It was well known that Hugh considered marriage a necessary evil. Even then, only for gentlemen well into their forties, or fifties…if one could get away with it. “For Christ’s sake, you’re too young for this! I’m too young for this! If you marry, my mother will never let me hear the end of it. Don’t do this to me! Sow some wild oats first, for heaven’s sake.”

Michael pondered his friend’s words. Danbury’s mother, sister, and aunts had been pressuring Hugh to marry since he’d inherited the title three years ago. He was the last of his line, and the burden to secure it was heavy, indeed. Michael knew Hugh though, and the more they pestered him to marry, the more he would avoid it.

“It’s not like that for me, Hugh.” He understood his friend’s concerns. “There is no pressure from anybody. In fact, my father and brother couldn’t care less what I do.” At the same time he said this, a part of him anticipated introducing them to Lilly. They would love her. They would realize he was ready to settle down and perhaps, even, worthy of some respect. He hated that he craved their respect.

“They care,” Danbury contradicted him. “In their own way. You just never see it. Your brother and father are two of a kind. Stoic. Undemonstrative sort of fellows. They think they’re doing right by you, allowing you to live your own life. You’d appreciate them if you had my lot.

“But that’s not what we’re talking about.” Danbury pressed his point. “We’re talking about Miss Bridge. Marriage. Children. Forever after and all that.”

“I know.”

“And?”

“I know I am young. Good God, she’s only seventeen. But I also know she is the one. I can’t let her go—I won’t let her go.” Michael looked over at Danbury again. “When you’ve met the right lady, you’ll understand.” Then unwilling to continue this line of conversation, he said, “Let’s pick up the pace, man. We’ll never get there at this rate.”

****

“Oh, Miss Bridge.” The lady’s maid gasped as she assisted Lilly out of her nightgown that morning. “You’ve got love bites!”

“What?” Had Betty said love bites? The memory of Michael’s mouth upon her skin came quickly to mind, and Lilly glanced down in horror.

“Use the looking glass, Miss Bridge, you’ll see—on your shoulder and…well…lower.”

Oh, dear Lord. The maid had the right of it. Purplish, reddish marks marred her skin, exactly where Michael’s lips had been. Other areas were reddened from his whiskers. Good heavens, there was even a mark on her breast. “Oh, dear Lord!” This time she spoke the words aloud.

Half of her was livid with Michael for doing such a thing to her. Had he known? Had he realized what he was doing?

And then the other half, the wanton half of her, was thrilled. It was as though he had marked her for his own.

But she then had to face that third half of herself. That half her mother had instilled so thoroughly. These very marks that thrilled her somewhat were also a recipe for ruin! If her mother saw them she would be livid! And her father! Good heavens, if he were to know about any of this, he would likely try to kill Michael. What if he called him out? What if her father and Captain Redmond dueled?

Nobody must find out! She turned to the maid.

“Betty, are they permanent? Can we make them go away?”

“Nay, not permanent, but they do last about a week.” The maid surveyed Lilly’s skin closely. “We’ll conceal them with a high neckline and long sleeves today. As they fade, perhaps we can cover them with face paint.” Looking out the window, she sighed. “’Twould be more comfortable if the weather weren’t so warm, Miss Bridge.”

“It doesn’t matter, Betty. No one—and I mean not a single living soul—must ever see these…these…oh my God, I don’t even know what to call them. You are certain they are not permanent?” She implored the maid for reassurance.

Betty laughed. “Yes. They will disappear. More of a nuisance for now, miss.”

Lilly slipped into her chemise and then dropped onto the bench in front of the mirror. She then sat anxiously while Betty lifted Lilly’s hair to examine the extent of Michael’s handiwork. “Let me find a dress to cover this up. Not to worry, dearie. Nobody will be the wiser as to what your scoundrel has been up to.”

Lilly assessed herself in the mirror and then reached for a cloth that had been soaking in cool lavender water. Dabbing at the tender skin, she was amazed at Michael’s audacity. As she touched each mark with the cool rag, she recalled the sensations he’d aroused with his lips and hands and whiskers. A flush swept through her body, reddening her face and neck even further, as she relived a few of those moments.

Lilly held the cloth up to her face and inhaled deeply.

Before coming to London, she had dreamed of finding some fantasy man who would save her from marrying Lord Beauchamp. Such a man had been hazy, heroic, handsome, and unreal. Nothing could have prepared her for the emotions that had flared up between Michael and herself.

He was so much more than a fantasy.

He had lived an entire life without her. He was dashing, rakish, and wanted by many other women. She had seen the jealous looks sent her way. Debutantes and even some older women glared at her with envy.

And he was hers.

Better than a dream come true, for she couldn’t have dreamt up a man as honorable and complex as Captain Redmond.

Mrs. Redmond…Mrs. Captain Michael Redmond. And then she wondered. Was the wife of the second son of a duke a lady? She should know such things.

Lord and Lady Michael…ah yes, she loved the sound of that. If Michael was a lord, surely she would be a lady. Was he a lord?

Caught up in her daydreams, Lilly donned the high-necked dress Betty had chosen but was drawn back into the present when she saw her reflection once again.

She looked ridiculous! Why, it was nearly June!

Nobody would be so buttoned up in June…except perhaps her matronly aunt…and her mother. Good Lord, her friends would think she’d gone batty!

Betty twisted Lilly’s hair into a tight chignon and laughed. “Don’t mind my saying so, but Miss Bridge, you hardly have any pins left for me to do your hair with.” Lilly just smiled at Betty in the mirror.

“I guess I’ll have to go shopping then.” With that, she smirked and bounded out of the room to find some breakfast.

She was ravenous.