Chapter 2

 

Lillian

 

“Were they kissing? Did you see anything inappropriate?” Mother whispered, as we moved down the hall, the tempting scent of ham and eggs wafting up from downstairs.

“Well…no.” She was completely missing the point. Was England so very much different from New York? Oh, what a cruel, cruel surprise to realize the man flirting in the gardens with another woman was to be my husband.

She sighed. “Then I don’t understand the problem.”

“Mother!” I flushed, angered and confused. “They were sitting close, much too close. Her hand was on his chest, for God’s sake. You have no idea how incredibly embarrassing it was for me! And Charles acted as if he couldn’t bother to care. Actually had William escort me back inside while he remained in the garden.”

She arched a brow. “William? He’s given you permission to use his first name already?”

I flushed. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m sure you’re misjudging the situation.” She patted her hair, making sure all was in place. Red like mine, it had very few gray streaks. My mother was lovely, even with age. “All I’m asking is for you to give him a chance.”

Could I? Could I forget what I’d seen in the gardens?

Haddie glanced over her shoulder. “What are you two discussing?” She walked ahead with father. “It sounds important.”

“None of your business, young lady,” Mother said. “Tell Father about your gown.”

Just what Father wanted to discuss…our new wardrobes. He grunted something indecipherable as Haddie launched into a conversation on the benefits of lace versus ruffles.

I’d been so upset yesterday, I’d retired to my room and refused to go down for dinner. I’d hid like a maudlin in my bedchamber all evening. Of course mother had given the perfect excuse, saying the travel had been too much for my delicate sensibilities. Why were people so willing to believe women were fragile?

In reality, it had been seeing my fiancé inappropriately touched by another that had been too much. How could I go to dinner and stand to see his smirking face? Or even worse, William’s sympathetic eyes? Knowing he wasn’t for me…would never be for me…

Third son, the maid had admitted last night when I’d questioned her about the man who had escorted me to the gardens. A third son in England meant no title, no money. It meant Father would say he was completely inappropriate.

“Dinner was lovely,” Mother said, interrupting my wayward thoughts. “He and his father seemed very kind.”

I slid her a dubious glance.

“It was awful,” Haddie had whispered to me last night after dinner, as if sharing a secret she feared would be overheard. “Father’s booming voice, mothers constant chatter…the English aren’t like us. They were so obviously horrified.”

“And my fiancé?” I dared to ask. I hadn’t told her about the incident in the garden. Knowing Haddie as I did, she would have stormed out there and demanded my fiancé answer for his actions.

“He was handsome enough. Seemed to find Mother and Father amusing. Although I wasn’t sure if he was laughing with them or at them.”

Most likely at them. I’d felt terribly embarrassed when Haddie had told me the facts, although why I wasn’t sure. After what I’d seen in that garden I shouldn’t have cared what Charles thought of my lineage. But the idea that we were being mocked, by my fiancé no less, didn’t sit well.

“You always keep me out of everything,” Haddie whined.

“Leave us,” Mother snapped. “Go to breakfast with your father.”

Father and Haddie continued down the steps while Mother and I waited at the top. I knew what was coming…a lecture. And I knew I wouldn’t like it. I focused on a light, square patch of wallpaper where a picture once hung. Noticing the flaking paint and dusty chandelier, I frowned. The house had been neglected. There didn’t seem to be enough servants to keep such a place in fashion.

“I’m afraid I’ve coddled you.”

Wary, I slid my gaze to her. “What do you mean?”

“Darling, it’s common for men to find passion outside of their marriage,” she sighed, flushing. She wasn’t the only one embarrassed. “Even your father has indulged a time or two.”

My lips parted on a gasp of surprise. We were not having this conversation, and in my philandering fiancé’s hallway, no less, where anyone could come upon us.

“It’s common in the states, but it’s even more so here, where gentlemen are bored. They don’t work, they have nothing else to do.”

I had the intense desire to laugh. “Are you serious?”

She shrugged, brushing an invisible piece of lint from her blue skirts. “As long as he is discreet, respectful…”

“How could it ever be considered respectful?”

“Shhh,” she hissed as a maid hustled by, a stack of linens in hand. We waited until she was out of hearing range. “Think of the positive. It will help prevent the man from coming to your bed! And believe me, you’ll want a break from the nonsense. In fact, I dare say you’ll be glad. Thought about sending your father’s mistress a present or two in appreciation.”

The sun was shining through the windows, highlighting the threadbare carpet, but I swore I still slept and this was a nightmare. I’d held so much hope only yesterday. “Mother, you can’t—”

“Let me finish,” she snapped coldly. “The papers are signed. The contract written. If it is broken on your part, Father will have to pay a large sum. Very large.”

Of course, money was important to my parents. But we both knew this was about more than money…this was about honor and reputation. I sank against the railing of the staircase, clutching the banister, worn with age. Only yesterday I’d thought his ancient heritage so honorable. Now I was finding it hard to come up with any redeeming quality. “You’re going to force me to marry him, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t until she grasped my hands in hers that I realized how cold my fingers had grown. “You will be a lady. You will have the country estate you’ve always wanted. Travel Europe! Garner respect and attention where ever you go!”

Yes, I wanted that country estate. I wanted that marriage and family. But I also wanted a life of quiet, compassion, love. A life of respect? A life of attention? That was the life she wanted.

When I didn’t readily agree, she released my hands and started down the steps. “It’s too late. To back out now would be disastrous for both families, and for what reason? Because you saw your fiancé speaking with a woman in the gardens? We will talk of this no further, and you will marry him.”

Hesitant, I followed my mother down the stairs. She had a way of making me feel silly and unsure. Was I being overly dramatic? But Charles hadn’t merely been speaking to the woman. William wouldn’t have been embarrassed, wouldn’t have tried to rush me from the garden if Charles had merely been speaking.

When William had escorted me to my chambers, he hadn’t tried to make conversation, thank God. He’d seemed more angry than embarrassed for me. Why, oh why, couldn’t he be my fiancé? I sighed as I reached the foyer. Perhaps Mother was right and I was being childish. Perhaps, just perhaps, I could give Charles another chance.

We moved through the foyer and down the hall, and I tried to look at the estate as a home. My home. I would be mistress here. More peeling paint, more missing paintings. The estate needed work…and money.

“You do realize he’s just marrying her for her money. It’s all the thing now in England. Titled gents marrying rich, American heiresses.”

I’d overheard the words spoken by Mrs. Kitts while at the seamstress only four months ago. I’d dismissed her comment as one said out of spite. After all, her daughter was thirty and still unmarried. I realized now she had probably been correct and I’d been a naïve fool.

I was here because Mother and Father had money. No other reason. That didn’t mean Charles and I couldn’t grow to care about each other. I tried to paste a demure smile upon my lips, but it was hard to hold. If Charles was willing to try, I should be as well.

Yet, as I made my way toward the breakfast room doors, all I could think about was William. Would he be there for breakfast? What was it about the man that captured my attention? His compassionate eyes? Or had it merely been something as shallow as his fine, muscular form? Maybe it was the way he’d tried to catch me when I’d stumbled, the incredulous anger in his gaze when we’d caught Charles in the garden.

William didn’t approve of his cousin’s activities. From what the maid had said, he was a fine man indeed. But what did I expect? For William to confess his undying love? For him to run off with me, destroying the trust of his family? He wasn’t mine and never would be no matter how much I wished. I needed to forget William and focus on Charles.

We entered the breakfast room. Already full, the fifteen or so attendees paused in conversation, their keen gazes jumping to us. No. Me. Heat raced up my neck and into my cheeks. I’d never liked attention, and for the most part I hadn’t received much. That’s what happened when you had a sister who was more charming, prettier, and when you constantly had your face hidden behind a book.

Father had met Lord Cavendash in the middle of the breakfast room, where they stood talking. The lord of the manner was tall and intimidating. I’d chatted briefly with him last night but it was obvious he had about as much interest in me as his son did. Haddie was by the buffet, looking uncomfortable and isolated. William had not arrived, and a mixture of relief and disappointment washed through me.

Charles caught my gaze. Slowly, he stood from the table, unfolding his tall, lanky form, dressed in a lovely brown suit that matched his chocolate eyes. Polite, I’d give him that. He was attractive, although he didn’t compare to his cousin, William. Still, I could certainly grow to appreciate his masculine features.

“It’s lovely to see you again.” Charles scanned my body thoroughly, leaving me feeling naked and exposed in front of the small crowd. “You are stunning, my dear.”

His compliment lacked in feeling. It was awkward and uncomfortable speaking with my fiancé for the first time in a dining room full of people I didn’t know. Still, I somehow managed to curtsey. “Thank you.”

He moved around the table, coming to my side. Why did he always look as if he was smirking? He took my hand and bowed low. His fingers were warm, dry, his grasp weak. I flushed, unsure if I should be pleased or embarrassed. He smelled nice, even if his cologne was a bit strong. Not at all like William’s natural scent.

The other women in attendance whispered, studying me through narrowed eyes. Their gazes weren’t so appreciative. I realized only too late that I was dressed inappropriately. We all were. Much too fancy for an English breakfast. Damnation, why hadn’t we known?

He released my hand. “Do help yourself to the buffet. We aren’t so formal here.”

I couldn’t help but feel as if he was mocking our attire. Perhaps I was being overly sensitive. With that, he turned and headed back to his chair, dismissing me. I stood there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure how to continue. Haddie was suddenly at my side, tugging on my sleeve as she used to do when we were children and I was caught up in a book, not paying attention to her.

Together we moved to the buffet. So many rules. Mother had drilled them into my head before we’d arrived. But now they were a jumbled mess in my mind. Father and Mother were seated on either side of the earl while Haddie and I were left to fend for ourselves.

“I thought he would offer to get your plate, at the least,” Haddie whispered, obviously unimpressed. “Are common manners so different in this country?”

I glanced over my shoulder. He was leaning close to the woman next to him, his focus pinned to her bosom as he whispered something she found hilarious, if her giggles were any indication. As if sensing my attention, his gaze slid to me. Instead of looking ashamed at being caught flirting once more, he merely quirked an eyebrow. I had the oddest feeling he found my discomfort amusing. Disconcerted, I looked away.

Haddie picked up a biscuit. “Did you see the way they looked at us?”

The footman handed me a plate. One never knew if the servants would report back to their master. “Shhh.”

She slapped a piece of ham onto her plate. “Like we’re scum on rocks. Worse. The stuff that lives underneath the scum on rocks.”

Of course Haddie was unimpressed. In our town, where everyone knew her, and Haddie spoke her mind, she was considered endearing. But here, even her blonde hair and blue eyes couldn’t save her from disdain. “They merely need to get to know us.”

She snorted as she grabbed a boiled egg. “They have no desire to know us. We might as well have influenza, for all they care.”

My stomach upset, I only managed some toast before I turned back toward the table, eager to escape Haddie’s condemning comments. She certainly wasn’t making me feel any better. But my intention to flee my younger sister was short-lived as I met my fiancé’s gaze. This man who leaned back in his chair, watching me through hooded eyes was not the man from my letters. “He seems…different.”

“He wrote you only two letters,” Haddie whispered. “Please don’t tell me you feel as if you know him from only two letters?”

I flushed, taking my plate to the table. Sometimes Haddie seemed older than her sixteen years. Charles did not stand, but allowed a footman to rush forward and pull out an empty chair between two women. It was only as I sat that I realized the woman on my left was the flirt from the garden. The woman who had been touching my fiancé. I froze, my plate still held high. It was too late for me to find another seat.

“I believe I should ask if you’re feeling better,” Charles said, drawing my attention to him. He asked not because he cared, but because he should. Or maybe he knew I hadn’t truly been ill and thought to catch me in my lie.

I lowered my plate to the table, keeping my hands steady. “Yes, thank you.”

He stared at me for one long minute. I flushed, averting my gaze to my plate. It was as if he was searching for every flaw he could find. I was surprised he hadn’t waved a footman over to keep count. I picked up a slice of toast and bit into the dry bread.

The woman who hadn’t been pawing my fiancé in the garden leaned close. “How very pretty your gown is. A New York creation?”

Eager for any conversation, I glanced at her and smiled. At least someone was being kind. “Yes.”

But it was only as I noted the amusement in her amber eyes and heard the woman who had been touching Charles giggle, that I realized it wasn’t a compliment at all. Of course New York fashion would pale in comparison to European. I felt as if we were playing a game, yet I hadn’t been given the rules.

The woman who had been touching Charles rested her hand on my sleeve. “I’m Lady Sybil. And don’t worry, you’ll find some rather lovely French seamstresses in London. They can…” She frowned, looking concerned. “Help you.”

Surely not every single one of my fiancé’s acquaintances were so wretched. I studied her hard, knowing gaze. She was waiting for me to break. Just waiting for the moment. I wondered in that still and quiet second if she hated me because I had money or because I had Charles. Perhaps both. Or perhaps she was just a horrible, mean-spirited person and there was no reason.

“Do you hunt?” my fiancé asked.

I forced myself to look away from the rather pretty Lady Sybil. “No. I don’t.”

He didn’t respond but it was obvious my reply was yet another mark against me. I played with my toast. Haddie was chatting with the fine gentleman next to her. Father was lost in conversation with Lord Cavendash. Mother was looking pointedly at me, annoyed that I wasn’t trying. I was finding it hard to care.

“We tend to wear something soft, something comfortable for breakfast,” Lady Sybil continued, as if she must teach me the ways of English society. As if I’d asked. “Muslin, perhaps…” She reached for her tea. It was as she was bringing it to her red lips that the cup slipped from her delicate fingers.

“Oh my,” she cried out.

I hadn’t time to react. The teacup tilted, the liquid spilled, splashing across my skirts. I gasped, jumping to my feet as the cup dropped to the ground. A footman raced forward, pulling out my chair and cleaning up the mess. But my skirts were ruined. The lovely light, spring green tarnished with tea.

“Oh dear.” Lady Sybil pressed her hand to her massive bosom. “I do apologize.”

I didn’t miss the amusement on my fiancé’s face. If this was a game, I was losing. He didn’t wish to get to know me. He didn’t even like me. Nor did I miss the smiles lingering on the lips of the women seated around the table. The few men in attendance might have been oblivious to the war going on around us, but my family understood. Haddie’s eyes narrowed on Lady Sybil, Mother merely looked embarrassed, as if the fault was mine.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I murmured.

I didn’t run, for I would not give them the satisfaction. Instead, with head held high, I moved slowly, deliberately toward the door. It wasn’t until I was clear of the breakfast room that I lifted my skirts and dashed forward. Was it too far to walk back to London? Damnation, but I’d tried to like him!

I turned the corner and ran directly into a hard chest. Startled, I stumbled back, but firm hands suddenly gripped my upper arms, holding me tight.

“What’s wrong?” a familiar voice asked.

I dared to look up into kind blue eyes. Seeing him again was like being struck by a lightning bolt. I couldn’t seem to breathe. My corset felt too tight. That lovely scent swirled around me, dragging me under…under…until I thought I might drown. And as I stood there in his arms I realized the reaction I’d had when I’d met him for the first time had not been imagined.

“I apologize,” I managed, embarrassed by my own reaction. “But there was a minor mishap and I must change.”

His brows drew together in concern. “Of course.”

But he didn’t let go. For a long moment, he continued to hold me. While murmured conversation from the dining room flowed around us, while a maid rushed by, we didn’t move. The world no longer mattered. He stared at me in a way that made my body heat. An intensity that caused my pulse to hammer. In a way that he had no right to.

“My dear?” Haddie’s voice broke through the seductive cocoon.

William released his hold and stepped hastily back, sliding his hands into his pockets. But his gaze remained intent on me.

“Are you well?”

I swore I could still feel the burn of his fingers. “Yes. I’m fine. Truly. Please, go back to the dining room and finish your breakfast.”

She hesitated, looking at me, then William. Neither of us relented. Finally she nodded and left. I knew she would keep the awkward moment to herself and I thanked the heavens she was such a loyal sister.

Taking in a deep, trembling breath, I darted around William intending to flee. Instead, I found myself pausing at his side. I couldn’t manage to move my feet. Something held me grounded there, near him.

“I do apologize,” I whispered, staring at the stain upon my skirts. We stood there shoulder to shoulder, so close we were almost touching. “I seemed to have overreacted yesterday in the garden.”

“No,” he said, his voice fierce and determined. “Don’t.”

He sounded angry, annoyed. At me? I jerked my gaze to him. But he looked away, raking his hands through his hair. I wondered briefly if the strands were as silky as they appeared. A mystery I would never uncover. He didn’t wish to speak about yesterday, and I didn’t blame him. Charles was his cousin. I was…no one.

“I have the distinct impression,” I said, feeling I must lighten the mood. “That all of those ladies and gentlemen in there are just waiting for me to make a mistake.”

His gaze swung to me. “Let me put your mind at ease…they are.”

I laughed. “Oh thank you. That does help.”

He grinned, looking entirely too mischievous and my heart slammed wildly against my chest. Why couldn’t he have been the man I was to marry? Because he wasn’t titled. Because he wasn’t important enough in my parents’ eyes.

“I won’t lie to you, not ever. It’s not in my nature.”

And staring up into his eyes, I believed him. “Is my fiancé having relations with Lady Sybil?”

He hesitated. It was blunt and rude of me to ask, but he didn’t scoff at my question. “I don’t know. But she is known for her affairs…as is he.”

I nodded. “Did you know they’d be in that garden?”

He looked taken aback. “Of course not. That would mean I’d intentionally set out to ensnarl my own cousin.”

He was loyal to his family. He might not care for Charles and his activities, but he would be true to him. I would be stupid to trust anything he said. Stupid to trust these feelings that were between us.

“Thank you.”

I curtsied, then started down the hall, intent on forgetting both men. Mother and Father would not help. William was not on my side. I had no one but myself and I had to find a way out of this mess of an engagement, even if it meant ruining my family’s hope of a happily ever after.

 

****

 

William

 

“Oh, has everyone finished?”

She arrived in the doorway, looking confused and beautiful in a white dress with pink flowers. A dress that made her look young and sweet, and made me all the more aware of just how innocent she was. A sheep entering a lion’s den. The thought of Charles using her, touching her, destroying that innocence, made me ill.

She was a bloody flower in a field of tenacious, choking weeds. The sun during a cloudy day. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. I’d seen the interest in Charlie’s eyes in the garden and I’d hated that gleam. I’d spent the night telling myself over and over that I had no claim on the woman. I’d almost believed the ridiculous lie, until she’d run into me this morning in the hall.

Even now, as I stared boldly, taking in the auburn glow of her hair under the morning sun, the way her delicate hands were clasped tightly together, the soft rise and fall of her breasts, I forgot my manners. She made my carefully constructed gentlemanly façade waver. My attraction to her was not only ridiculous, but stupid.

She cleared her throat, looking expectantly at me, awaiting my response.

Christ, I was a damn fool. Coming to my senses, I set my book down and stood. “I believe they have gathered in the drawing room to play charades.”

She smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Something had changed between us. I’d felt it in the shift of the air as we’d stood in the hall after her breakfast mishap. She was nervous around me now, not daring to make eye contact for more than a few moments at a time. I had a feeling she associated me with Charlie, and I was tainted because of it. Her opinion bothered me, although it shouldn’t have.

“I see.”

Lady Sybil had spilled tea on her skirts, from what I had gathered upon entering the breakfast room. There was the murmured conversation of feigned sympathy from a few, but it was obvious the bitch had done it on purpose. And the thought made me irate. Why I felt the need to protect this innocent, I hadn’t a clue. Perhaps Rafe was right…I needed to save people.

I watched her closely as I resumed my seat. She got a plate and took a piece of toast and an egg. Barely enough for a bird, but then she was probably too anxious to eat. When she’d apologized to me in the hall for her reaction in the garden yesterday, the guilt I’d felt was immediate and strong. She didn’t deserve this. No one did. Rafe was right again…Charles was an arse, and he was the only one who should have apologized.

She settled at the table a few chairs down from me. I usually preferred breakfast alone so I could read in peace. But I found myself more than eager for her company. She intrigued me, this woman. Why, I wasn’t sure. And that was a mystery within itself.

“You enjoy reading?” she asked, studying me from under her lashes. If she had been any other woman I would have thought she’d done it on purpose, attempting to intrigue and seduce me with a coy glance. However she was much too innocent for flirting.

I shrugged. “Nothing of interest. My brother and Charles have accused me of being boring.”

She shook her head, her face so utterly serious. “Oh, sir, that can’t be true.”

“Call me William. We are to be related.” Her desire to defend me was heart-warming and completely misplaced. I glanced at the book, suddenly having no interest in reading. Hell, I was boring. “It’s a history on the reign of Julius Caesar. You see, I’m going into the military.”

“Oh.” She frowned, picking at the crust upon her toast with delicate fingers. “You’ll be leaving soon?”

“I will.” I would be heading out to see the world. She, too, would be starting over. But she wouldn’t have a say in her life. She would be stuck here, with Charles. Disconcerted, I tore my gaze from her. Despite what my instinct had roared when she’d stepped from the carriage, she wasn’t mine.

She ate quietly, her attention on her plate. I had plenty of time to study her. I supposed most would find her sister more attractive, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, the epitome of beauty. While Lillian…she was different. Green eyes, auburn hair. She looked more than a little Irish and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was part fairy.

“I suppose if you’re going into the military you would wish to read about one of the best leaders in history,” she said.

“You know a little about Caesar?”

She smiled tentatively. “A little. I enjoy reading a bit of everything. I’d love to travel to Italy someday and see the ruins.”

“Would you?”

She flushed. “Am I being silly?”

“Not at all.”

“I don’t hunt,” she whispered, as if ashamed. “I think it rather cruel to chase down a fox. I don’t do needlepoint. I find it rather boring.”

I nodded slowly, fascinated by her sudden burst of sharing, although why I wasn’t sure. The information seemed rather tame, yet I had a feeling she hadn’t told many, if anyone, what she shared with me.

Her gaze took on a look of desperation. “What shall I do here?”

“You’ll…have tea with other fine ladies. Perhaps find a charity until…you have children.”

The thought of her and Charles having children didn’t sit well with me. In fact, it made me irritated in a way I didn’t understand. Damnation, but I’d never been jealous in my life.

“Tea.” She forced a smile. “Lovely.”

My response had disappointed her. I knew what it felt like to be forced to conform. To do things you hadn’t any desire to do merely because society deemed it important. I was escaping while she was stepping into a world she didn’t understand. She would either learn to play the game and change, or she would wither away. I wasn’t sure which would be worse.

She set her toast upon the plate. Her food barely touched. “I should, I suppose, find my family.”

I didn’t want her to go. My reaction couldn’t be explained, I only knew that I didn’t want to be alone anymore. Hell, I wanted her. “Will you play charades?”

“I’ve never been one for games.”

I smiled, pleased once more. “Me neither.”

“I’d prefer a quiet library and a book.” She couldn’t have said anything more seductive. I had to remind myself that she was not mine and never would be. But the thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. She hesitated, then stood. “Thank you for being so hospitable.”

I surged to my feet. I couldn’t let her go back to those vipers. Not without boosting her morals some. At least that’s what I told myself. “Would you like to see the conservatory?”

Just like that, she completely changed. Gone was the lost, morose look. Color came to her cheeks and the sparkle of interest in her eyes made me feel like preening like a bloody peacock. I doubted she cared so much for my company. She probably would have gone to the conservatory with the devil himself rather than face Lady Sybil and Charles in the parlor. But I could pretend she wanted to go because she desired my company.

“Is there one?”

I moved around the table. Things should have been awkward between us. We hardly knew each other. Yet, I’d never felt more at ease with anyone. “Indeed. Rather nice, too. Lord Cavendash does maintain that, at least. Shall we?”

“Oh yes!”

The smile upon her lips made my chest feel tight. I hadn’t felt this happy in…hell, I wasn’t sure when. She followed me into the hall. I could hear laughter coming from the drawing room, but we headed in the opposite direction. I was more than eager to get away before someone caught us. Should I have felt guilty? Yes, but I didn’t.

“Funny how Caesar and Mark Antony could have taken over the world if not for greed and power and the face of a beautiful woman.”

The pleasure of being in her company far outweighed any repercussions. “Do you think so?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps. I believe Cleopatra had much more influence than people give her credit. She was a woman who would have done anything to rule.”

I clasped my hands behind my back as we walked the corridor. I’d never conversed much about history or politics with a woman. “Are you so harsh on your own sex then? Do you think women evil seductresses?”

I was teasing, but the flush upon her cheeks indicated she didn’t realize. “Not at all. I blame men.”

I laughed. No woman I knew would speak so boldly. “Do go on.”

“If men weren’t so petty and jealous, wanting what other men have, desiring more and more, never satisfied…well, I dare say, there would be fewer wars.”

It felt as if she spoke directly to me. Was she warning me off? “And women do not desire what they shouldn’t?”

“They do. But I believe as women we have much more control over our desires. We have no choice.”

“Do go on.”

She seemed pleased with my response. Perhaps happy that I’d allowed her to speak her mind, or maybe just thrilled that she didn’t have to go to that parlor. How would Charles have responded to her comment? I could imagine his red face, annoyed gaze. With a few biting words, he could make her cry. And would with no qualms.

“If a woman,” she blushed a charming shade of pink, “finds herself with child and unmarried, she is destroyed. If a man gets a woman whom he is not married to with child, well…nothing. So you see, women are forced to have more control.”

“And do you?” We moved down the hall at the back of the house. It felt utterly alone, still. Only the two of us. “Do you have complete control of your desires?”

She paused in a shadow. “I don’t think there is any proper way to answer that.”

I stepped closer to her and breathed in her flowery scent, memorizing every detail. The gold specks in her eyes. The fine blue vein that ran through her right temple. “Why?”

“If I claim to have complete control, then you will see it as a challenge to knock me off my pedestal. Yet, if I claim to have no control you’ll see it as an invitation to do what you want with me.”

Somewhere down the corridor a clock ticked the seconds by, warning that my time with her was limited. I hated that clock. “You have a very low opinion of men.”

Of me.

She frowned, seemingly perplexed. “If I do, it is only a recent development.”

I wanted to prove her wrong, to show her I was honorable. But it would be a lie. Hell, even then I was imagining pushing her up against the wall and lifting her skirts. My hands curled as I resisted the urge to reach out to her.

As if sensing the danger she was in, she turned away and continued down the hall. I was left to watch the seductive sway of her hips as I thought about her comments. She did not hold a high regard for Charles and I didn’t blame her. I started down the hall, falling into place beside her. But it bothered to think she would place me in the same league as my cousin.

“When will you be leaving?” she asked.

“In about three weeks’ time.”

“So soon?” Such delicate feminine features. I wanted to draw my finger down the bridge of her pert nose. To trace the plumpness of her lips. To study her as an artist would study a muse. “I see.” She plucked at the lace on the cuff of her sleeve. “And are you happy by the prospect?”

The sudden switch in conversation startled me and I found it hard to gather my thoughts. “I am. I’m eager to prove myself, if that makes sense.”

We moved around the servants’ narrow steps and toward the back of the house. “It must be rather satisfying to have so many ways to prove oneself. I’m not quite sure I ever have or will be able to, at least not to my parent’s satisfaction.”

I slid her a glance, feeling unsure. Speaking with women had always been so easy. A compliment here or there. A smile, a wink. But not her. She expected more than shallow banter. “A woman can find satisfaction in running a household, in making sure her husband is well taken care of…”

She nodded slowly, not in the least impressed. Of course. She was not the typical woman. Speaking of fashion, sewing samplers, planning dinners, none would ever make her content.

“You want more.”

“Yes. I suppose I do.” I didn’t miss the confusion in her eyes as we paused outside the conservatory door. Perhaps she’d only just realized she wanted more. The humidity was high and condensation peppered the glass windows. “I want…I don’t know what I want, but I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Her eyes were almost pleading, desperate for my response. They tore at my reserves, made me believe things that I shouldn’t. I wanted to promise her she could be anything she wanted.

Disconcerted, I pulled open the door and she moved by me, so close her skirts brushed my legs, her shoulder brushing my arm. The heat that assaulted my form had nothing to do with the temperature inside the glass room.

“As a woman my life is chosen for me. I have no say. I can’t be a doctor…a lawyer…go into the military.”

“Do you wish to do any of those things?”

“No.” She paused just on the other side of the door, her back to me. So close it would take only a step to bring us together. “I wish…to write.”

“Write?”

She came to life so suddenly that I felt as if I was watching spring break through the cold, harshness of winter. Flowers blooming, birds chirping, hope. “Books.”

She grinned widely, spinning in a circle so her skirts flared wide. Fascinated, I could only watch. Her excitement pulled me in, intrigued and fascinated me. Had I ever felt such passion?

“Thrilling exciting works of fiction that keep people up late at night.” She met my gaze, her eyes sparkling. “Books that have people talking in their drawing rooms, flipping the pages wondering what will happen next.”

My chest felt tight. I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze from her. She was utterly magnificent when she was happy. It was her innocence, her excitement for life, I realized, that drew me to her. This was a woman who had known no pain. No loss. No heartache. She was everything I should have despised, yet didn’t.

“I see. And why can’t you?”

She looked away, flushing. “I do. I have.”

I stepped farther into the room, the door closing behind me. Frantic for more time with the woman, I hadn’t the least desire to be interrupted. “Have you?”

She nodded, peeking coyly up at me as she had in the breakfast room. I had to remind myself she was no experienced flirt. She was waiting to see my reaction. Hell, she cared what I thought.

How strange our conversation. I’d spoken to my brothers before about our plans, our futures, but I realized in that moment I’d never spoken to a woman about what she desired…outside of the bedchamber. I’d never cared. But I cared what Lillian thought, wanted.

She tore her gaze from me and drew her fingers down the large, smooth leaf of a palm. “You think I’m silly?”

“Not at all.”

I noticed her smile of relief right before she turned, and strolled down the stone path toward the back of the conservatory. I’d pleased her and that pleased me. Grinning like an idiot, I followed like a pup after a treat. Damnation, I couldn’t have stopped myself from going after her even if I’d wanted to. She had no idea, no clue, how she influenced me.

For a few minutes we didn’t speak, merely strolled down the stone path in companionable silence. She studied the plants, taking time to touch a leaf or two, smell a flower. While I studied her, trying not to reach out and draw my hand down her porcelain cheek, wrap the curl that hung from her braids around my fingers.

“What is that scent?” she asked, pausing. “It’s wonderful!”

Boldly, I took her elbow, the lightest touch, but I heard her sharp intake of breath. Felt her stiffen. Did my touch offend her? For some reason I didn’t release my hold. “I’ll show you.”

She didn’t pull away and so I escorted her down the path, passed the pink and purple orchids growing along the windowsill that Charlie’s mother had planted years before her death. “Lemons.”

We paused in front of the small trees. Three planted at the back of the conservatory in large, ceramic pots. Her eyes went wide. “They’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever smelled in my life. Don’t you agree?”

I could take no more. Unable to stop myself, I reached out, gently grasping her chin and tilting her head toward me. “Would you think me too bold if I admit you smell better?”

Her cheeks grew brilliant red, but she didn’t look away. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never made it my mission to seduce virgins attached to others. She was engaged to my cousin, for God’s sake. Yet, I couldn’t look away. “I did say I’d always be honest with you.”

I plucked a small, white flower from the branch and handed it to her. With trembling fingers she took the bloom. I didn’t lie. She smelled as sweet, as seductive. But even more so because she held a fragrance that was only hers.

She brought the bloom to her pert nose and breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. “How can something so small be so utterly divine?”

I’d never seen someone so delighted over so simple of a thing. She lifted her lashes. There, surrounded by the leaves, her eyes were a vibrant shade of green. Fairy creature indeed. She belonged to nature. Otherworldly. Sent by the gods.

I reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. My fingers lingered at her smooth cheek. Too far. Too bold. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d slapped me. She sucked in a sharp breath, her wide gaze going to me. My control began to break, crack by crack. I couldn’t look away. Even though I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t bloody move.

Rafe would say I merely needed to sow my wild oats. James would say I was young and immature. Oliver would spew some such nonsense about men and women needing to mate to carry on the species.

All I knew was that if I didn’t kiss her I felt as if I would painfully perish. Slowly, I lowered my head. My lips brushed hers, a kiss as soft as the petals of the flowers surrounding us. A dream of a kiss that promised more to come. A shiver of awareness tiptoed down my spine. Everything changed in that moment.

“Am I dreaming?” I thought I heard her whisper.

Perhaps we were. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her breath coming out in soft pants that tempted. I expected her to slap me. At the least push me away. Instead, she went weak in my arms. Her soft body pliant against mine.

The entire world faded. We floated in a cocoon that none could penetrate. It was wrong, so very wrong. But I wanted to taste her just once before she became his, and I knew this might be my last and only moment. Slowly, I lowered my head. Just a kiss. A real kiss.

To prolong the moment, I paused only a breath away, savoring the warmth of her closeness. I wanted to memorize every detail, keep it close like a cherished memento for the cold, lonely nights when I was in battle.

“Well, there you are,” Charles called out cheerfully.

His words were like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t sure if I should feel angry, disappointed or embarrassed. Her eyes opened wide. Part of me wanted to push her behind my back and protect her from his wrath. Another part of me wanted to shove her into his arms and tell him to take her far, far away and remove the temptation.

“We’d all wondered where you’d gone off to,” he added.

Reluctantly, I stepped back. When I turned, it was to see him standing there, leaning against a fig tree like he had all the time in the world. He smiled, his voice was calm, pleasant almost. But his eyes told the truth.

I had no doubt he’d seen that kiss, and she and I both were going to pay for my indiscretions.