“Tell me the truth now.” Violet Humphrey stared at Charles with a sharp gaze honed by years of raising rogues for children.
“Truth? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Charles hedged as best he could, but he knew he wouldn’t win any argument his mother began.
“There’s a woman.” Violet sat perched on a settee with Charles’s little sister, Ella, beside her. Ella had a book open in her lap but had not turned a page since this parental inquisition began. Her blonde hair, so much like his, framed her face as she peered blankly at her pages. She was pretty, of course, with eyes more blue than gray, like their mother’s, but her features were a more feminine version of their father’s. She was small and delicate, but fiercely intelligent and kindhearted.
“There are plenty of women. You…Ella…the cook…” Teasing his mother was a favorite hobby of his. Some men collected butterflies and insects; Charles searched for new ways to provoke his mother.
“Plenty of women? Oh!” She snapped her fan shut the way a man would cock a pistol and pointed it at him menacingly.
“I believe London is full of women, or haven’t you noticed?” he asked innocently.
“Ella, fetch my smelling salts. Your brother is trying to kill me.”
Ella laid her book down and retrieved a tiny bottle from her reticule. Violet swatted it away like an irritating fly.
“Not now. Wait until I actually faint.”
Charles couldn’t resist grinning, which only made his mother’s eyes narrow.
“The girl at the Sanderson ball. Who is she?”
“A girl now? Not a woman? I thought we were speaking of women? What interest would I possibly have in girls?”
Violet growled and chucked the fan at his head, which he easily caught.
“You know exactly what I mean, Charles Michael Edward Humphrey. Now talk.”
“Oh,” he said dramatically. “The girl from the Sanderson ball. You must mean Lily Wycliff.”
“Yes. That Wycliff girl. Who is she?” His mother’s brown eyes assessed him as though she was contemplating wedding plans. For the first time in his life, he wished his mother would do exactly that.
“Well, she’s a widow,” he began.
“A widow?”
“Her husband, Aaron Wycliff, was a favorite cousin of the Duchess of Essex.”
“A country gentleman, then?” She paused in reflection, no doubt scanning her memory for any sign that she knew who he was speaking of.
“I believe so.”
“And the widow? Where do her people hail from?”
Charles opened his mouth, but he realized he had no answer. “I honestly have no idea.”
“You are falling in love with a woman, and you don’t even know who she is?”
Charles frowned. “I didn’t say I was falling in love with her. We’ve only just met.” In truth he was, if he hadn’t already, but he didn’t wish for his mother to know. Not until he was certain Lily would agree to become the Countess of Lonsdale.
“You’re in love, my dear boy,” his mother sighed. “I’ve heard from more than one friend at the ball about how you looked at her and how she looked at you.”
“Radiant, I believe someone said,” Ella supplied. He had long known that she enjoyed making him squirm as much as he did their mother. “Radiant. Charming. Buoyant. Though one person did say ‘a couple of lovesick fools.’”
Charles’s face flushed, and he tugged at his neckcloth. How had it become so unbearably hot in this room so quickly?
“Yes, I heard that too,” his mother agreed.
“I heard she has a child,” Ella added.
“A child?” His mother’s expression hardened slightly. “That may be a problem.”
Charles hadn’t forgotten she had a child. He hadn’t wanted his mother to know in case she wasn’t thrilled with the idea. Of course, thanks to Ella, it was too late now to avoid the subject.
“I don’t see it as such. I would welcome her child as my own. If she will have me.”
“Well, if you will welcome the child, then so shall I. So it seems you have decided then? After all these years, you’ve now found a woman worthy of your affections?”
He answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
“When shall we meet her?”
He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “Er… I am taking her to the opera tonight.”
His mother clapped her hands together. “Splendid! Ella and I shall accompany you and Mrs. Wycliff in your box. You shall meet us there.”
“Very good,” Charles said, and then he cleared his throat. “Mother, has Graham written to you?”
“Graham? Not since last week, why?” His mother’s seeming happiness over Charles’s upcoming nuptials thinned.
“I must ask that you not overreact, Mother, but Graham was injured. I’ve been taking care of him.” He rushed to calm her before she panicked.
“Injured?” The word escaped from her lips.
“He’s healing and safe.”
Violet surged to her feet. “Safe? What do you mean? Is he in danger?”
“Mother, you really must sit. I will explain everything if you let me.”
“Smelling salts, now!” Violet held her hand out to Ella, who handed her the vial of smelling salts. Violet promptly shattered it against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest, glowering.
“You will talk, now, dear boy.”
Charles glanced at Ella and swallowed hard. Lord, sometimes he forgot his mother could be a fearsome creature.
“Graham and Lord Kent were gambling. Kent had an unusually poor streak.” Charles paused, unsure how much he could tell them.
“What happened?” Ella asked.
“Kent was given the chance to fight in a boxing ring to pay off his debt, but in the process he was gravely injured. Graham tried to help him, but they beat him as well. But Graham is going to be fine.”
“Thank God,” his mother said, her eyes bright with tears.
“And Lord Kent?” Ella demanded.
“He will be all right…I hope. The doctor said if he could survive a few weeks, he should pull through.”
The news seemed to devastate Ella. “May I go see him?” she asked. “I mean, Graham, of course. But also Lord Kent.”
Charles raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been aware that Ella was close to Phillip. “I suppose, if Mother doesn’t object.”
Ella gave their mother a desperate look.
“As long as you aren’t underfoot while Charles is pursuing Mrs. Wycliff. Lord knows your brother will need every advantage to win this mystery woman.”
“I won’t,” Ella replied at the same time Charles said, “She won’t.”
“Then you may go.” Violet looked to Charles. “Graham is truly well?”
“Yes, a bit bruised, but he will be fine.” It was an exaggeration, but he did not wish for her to worry more than she had to.
The significance of the moment only now seemed to dawn on his mother. “But he came to you? Of all places? Does that mean…?” Her eyes were bright with hope.
Charles gently cupped his mother’s shoulders. “I think so, yes. He is still cautious, but that is only natural under the circumstances. I, for my part, will do all I can to make amends while he is under my roof.”
“That’s wonderful. You know how much it has broken my heart to see you two not speaking to each other.”
“I know. But it will still take time.”
Violet wiped her eyes. “Well, then let’s focus on this evening. The opera and meeting your Mrs. Wycliff.”
Charles’s stomach fluttered with a sudden touch of nerves. Tonight his mother would be meeting Lily for the first time. It was quite a frightening prospect. But surely his mother would like her. She was wonderful. How could she not?
“We shall see you tonight then, dear boy.” His mother kissed his cheek, then shooed him away.
Charles left his mother’s home with a grin on his face, but as he stepped into his coach he had the sense he was being watched. He glanced around the street but saw no obvious signs of anyone looking at him.
In fact, he saw no one at all.
Lily held her breath as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was in her guest bedchamber at the Essex house and was unable to deny she felt like a princess from one of the fairy tales she read to Katherine. The dark-rose gown she had put on was, in a word, stunning. It didn’t try to hide her height, nor did it overly embellish her more gentle curves. Rather, it brought out the beauty of her willowy figure.
The dress was designed with gold bands of embroidered patterns along the sleeves and the hem. The neckline was deep and square cut, and Lily blushed as she reached up to touch her collarbone.
How long had it been since she’d played the lady? Too long. There were nights she’d escaped Charles’s employment as Tom and had been able to venture to Vauxhall, even Gunter’s for flavored ices, or to Bond Street for shopping. And then there had been those times Hugo had had need of her skills in a more feminine guise. But tonight she was to be out in society and would have a genuine chance to enjoy herself.
“You look lovely,” Emily said from the doorway. She held Katherine high up on her side, balanced on her hip. Lily’s daughter held a tiny doll and was smiling and talking to herself, chirpy little words that were too quick for Lily to understand.
“You truly wish to watch her tonight? You could leave her with the nurse.” Lily couldn’t believe the duchess had offered to watch the baby and miss the opera.
“Of course, but I’d rather stay home. I’m too far along to be out on icy streets tonight. Besides, Godric is in need of some paternal practice.”
Lily almost laughed. One could practice all they liked, but there was no real preparation for parenthood.
“Don’t forget to take your cloak.” Emily nodded to one of the parcels, still wrapped on the bed. Lily removed the brown paper and unfolded a deep yellow-gold cottage cloak with a thick large hood. She wrapped it around her body and fastened it under her chin. She left the hood down for now and faced Emily, reticule in hand.
“Remember to smile!” Emily cheered. “This is supposed to be fun. You are excited to see Charles, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m just nervous.” This morning when he had paid a call on her, she had been able to do what was expected of her, but knowing he saw their future as something real, a future she secretly desired more than anything, crushed her. She wanted to believe she could have a happy life with him, but that was impossible. Not while Hugo held her daughter’s life in his hands.
“You have no reason to be nervous. Charles is a good man, and I think he’s quite serious about you. Godric said he has never brought a woman flowers before.”
Lily couldn’t help but smile. She believed that. Working as Tom, she’d grown very aware of his habits with ladies. He preferred to take more discreet and scandalous routes to a woman’s affections, which had made his gesture this morning feel all the more sincere, which made her all the more conflicted. Her smile faltered.
“Mama!” Katherine held out her doll.
“For me?” Lily hugged the doll to her chest and kissed it before giving it back to Katherine. “Why don’t you keep her safe while I’m gone? You’ll be all right with Aunt Emily, won’t you?”
Katherine nodded and burrowed her face shyly into Emily’s neck. Lily longed to hold her, but if she did she would never find the courage to leave.
“We’ll be fine.” Emily gave Katherine a squeeze. “Tell your mama to have a good night.”
“Good night, Mama,” Katherine said. Lily laughed and gazed with love at her daughter. Whenever she doubted herself, all she ever had to do was think of her, and the path became clear.
Simkins met her at the bottom of the stairs, giving her a warm smile.
“Lord Lonsdale’s coach has just arrived. Would you like to wait for him to come in?”
“Oh! No, I’ll go down to him.” Lily thanked Simpkins and pulled the hood of her cloak up as she left. The bitter wind smelled of snow, and she saw heavy clouds, soft and gray against the dark night sky. At the coach, Charles opened the door but froze when he saw her.
“Lily, I was just about to—” He stopped, then struggled for words. “You look…”
“Yes?”
Charles looked around, as if fighting part of himself that wanted to kiss her senseless in order to be a better person for her. “You will be the envy of the opera.”
Lily favored him with a smile. “Would you mind terribly if I sat beside you?”
“M-mind?” he stuttered. “Of-of course not.”
“Are you cold, my lord?” She moved over and sat beside him. After a moment he carefully stretched his left arm around her shoulders. “Strange, you seem very warm to me.”
“D-do I?” he asked.
She ducked her head, to make herself look embarrassed. “I’m not being too forward with you, am I? I had thought we were past all that after we…”
“Kissed?” he volunteered.
“Yes. Would you kiss me now?”
“Here?” he asked, his voice roughening a little with excitement.
“Yes, here,” she cut in, moving closer to his lips.
His resolve broken, he pulled her onto his lap. Heat met heat as their lips joined. His hands explored her back, then her skirts. A wintery chill rushed up her leg as his fingers teased one of her ankles. She giggled in delight at his gentle touches. She’d never thought she could be with a man, not after what Hugo had done, but with Charles everything was different.
She felt no danger with him, no pain, no fear, only a powerful joy, tinged with a sadness she tried to suppress. She did not deserve this happiness, not even for a little while, but she could not stop herself from feeling it.
As he kissed her, she dragged her fingers down his waistcoat, wishing they were somewhere else, somewhere where she could remove it. So many nights she’d watched him bathe, seeing his glorious golden body, and she’d dreamed about moments like this, of being free to surrender her fears and feel only pleasure with this man. He was like a bewitching elixir, one that could bring her heart back from the dead and make her whole again. He kissed her leisurely, like he had all the time in the world, which only made her more desperate.
She nibbled the lobe of his ear. “Won’t you kiss me harder?”
Charles shuddered against her. “Harder?” His hands tightened a little in her hair, and she felt his erection press against her.
“Kiss me like you expect to be slapped for it.”
He pulled away, concern marring the perfection of his face. “Is that what you truly want?” She nodded fiercely and curled her arms around his neck.
“Kiss me like we have no tomorrow. Please.”
“You never cease to surprise me.” He lowered his head again, and this time she saw and tasted the full hunger of the rogue she’d fallen in love with.
His mouth commanded hers, his tongue flicked inside her ear, and his hands moved everywhere. He was an unstoppable force of lust and pleasure. Lily moaned as he bit her neck, knowing it would leave a mark, but she didn’t care. He knew just how to suck, to lick, to whisper his lips along her skin in unexpected places and make her womb clench and throb.
The passion he ignited within her turned into a burning firestorm. She’d never felt anything like it. She was finally getting what she wanted, and it was everything she’d hoped it would be. His rough hands were tempered by the seductive pull of his kiss, like a whirlpool eddying in a swiftly curving river. She was spinning helplessly, deliriously excited to be going along for the ride.
Then she thought of how ashamed Hugo had made her feel. How he had taken her against her will. How he had continued to use her after that. But that shame didn’t have a place here in Charles’s arms. There was only a sense of joy and wonder at how right it felt to be with him.
His hand crept higher up her thigh, sliding between her legs and delving into her underpinnings. She hissed in shock as he found her center and slid one finger inside her.
“Do you wish for me to stop?” he asked.
She shook her head and tried to shift closer to him, pushing his finger deeper. Her womb clenched as he explored her with that finger while they kissed. Their tongues fought a silent battle of lust, broken only by their panting breaths as he continued to stoke the fire within her. Soon it was too much, and a burst of devastating pleasure exploded through her. He silenced her cry with a slow, deep kiss, and she sagged against him.
He withdrew his hand and helped her settle her skirts back down. She was still shaking as he held her close on his lap, placing tender kisses all over her face.
“I want to burn this moment into my mind forever,” he whispered.
Her heart bled, and she buried her face in his neck, holding him. They were silent for a long moment.
“Charles, could we…forget the opera?” She wanted to have him turn the coach around to take her to his home, his bed. She did not know how much time they had together, but for one night at least she wanted to believe that a life with him was possible.
He sighed heavily. “I would love nothing more, but I’m afraid my mother is quite keen on meeting you.”
She jerked back. “Mother?”
Just then the coach stopped in front of Covent Garden. She couldn’t meet his mother, not tonight. Not ever. She clutched her chest, and it took her a moment to calm.
“Yes.” Charles cleared his throat and tugged on his cravat. “There’s nothing to fear, my dear. My mother heard about our waltz at the Sandersons’ ball and will be at the opera tonight to meet us in the box.”
“Oh!” Lily had to think of an excuse, and she frantically tried to fix her hair and dress. “I can’t meet her, not when I’m all”
“Delightfully mussed?”
“Yes. Your mother, everyone will know what we’ve been up to.”
“Does it matter?” Charles asked.
“Of course it does!”
“I never expected a cousin of Emily’s to be so concerned with public opinion.” He twined his fingers in her hair, tugging on the strands. “Would it be better if I proposed?”
Lily frowned. “Be serious, Charles.”
“I’m utterly serious, darling. You’re my mysterious angel. When I talk to you, when I kiss you, when I think about you, there is…” He paused, considering his words. “There’s a stillness inside me, and a tranquility I’ve never felt before.”
Lily stared at him, her lips parted. “But we have only met a few times.”
“It is true. You are a mystery to me. And I adore a good mystery.”
“You do not know the real me,” she said. At his puzzled frown, she quickly added, “Please, not so soon. We all put our best foot forward when we wish to impress, do we not?”
“True. But I want to spend the rest of my life figuring you out.” He sighed then. “I don’t have a ring yet. I wanted to take my time choosing it.”
He was serious. Lily looked away. “No. We cannot.”
He didn’t seem at all perturbed by her refusal. “Emily promised to find me a bride, and lo and behold, she has.” He kissed the tip of her nose and gently set her on her feet so she could exit the coach. “I can be patient.”
Marry him? Lily walked into the Covent Garden theater as though trapped in a hazy dream. She couldn’t say yes, not with Hugo’s specter looming everywhere. But if she had her freedom, she would have wept at his feet for the chance to say yes.
“My box is this way.” He led her up the stairs toward an expensive box. Lily felt the collective curious gaze of the crowds watching them.
She leaned against his arm. “Everyone is looking at us.”
“Everyone is looking at you, darling.”
Lily smiled, remembering Charles’s reputation. “I rather think they’re looking at me because of you.”
Charles gazed at her with clear adoration. “Nonsense. You shine like a star fallen from the night sky. But it is as you said to me—they don’t know the real you. There’s so much more to you, isn’t there?”
Lily bit her lip. “I’m nobody, Charles. No one so special as you imagine me to be. I fear I am only a dream you are having, and when you awaken you won’t see me anymore, just an ordinary woman wondering why you are so disappointed.”
“You are infinitely more than a dream, Lily. And you could never disappoint me.” He stopped them just outside his box. Behind him was a fresco of Romeo climbing a balcony’s ivy-colored trellis to reach Juliet. It was a play she both adored and despised in equal measure. She loved the young lovers’ passion, but she hated that it ended so violently with their deaths.
And yet she could relate to it as well—for both were trapped by fate and circumstance, the hope that they felt a mere illusion. Their fates were sealed before the curtain even rose.
Charles saw what she was looking at, then bent to one knee before her. “One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun ne’er he saw her match since first the world begun.”
He gave a crooked and yet utterly charming smile, one so boyishly sweet that her heart never stood a chance. He was such a beautiful man.
Charles stood and cupped her face, leaning in close. “Please marry me,” he said, his lips close to hers before he kissed her softly.
“I…” She needed to resist, but his sweet kisses were wearing her down. All she wanted was to burrow into him, close her eyes, forget the past, forget her pain, her sorrow, and find only the joy his love would bring.
I loved you at first sight, without shame without regret. But it comes at such a high cost for us both…
“My heart will be for no other,” he vowed.
Lily shook her head. “Stop it. Every man can carry a book full of fancy words, especially a man like you.”
She expected this to upset him, but he only chuckled. “Fancy words, yes, but inviting my mother? That, my darling, comes from a true desire to commit to you. There is no way I would ever subject you to my mother’s scrutiny unless I was serious about you. And scrutinize you she will.”
Lily swallowed hard, a shiver of dread rolling through her. She’d only glimpsed Lady Lonsdale once or twice before, and even then only at a distance.
“If you won’t say yes tonight, please know that I will keep asking every day until we are both old and gray. By then I’ll be too old to get down on one knee, but I will still ask until my last breath.” His gentle, earnest words surprised her. He meant it. Lord, she wanted so much to say yes. But she couldn’t forget Hugo, couldn’t forget her daughter’s safety. Her daughter had to come first.
“Now, let me introduce you to my mother and sister.” He opened the box door and ushered her inside.
The Countess of Lonsdale and Lady Ella Humphrey rose from their seats as Lily and Charles entered.
“Mother, may I present to you Mrs. Wycliff. Lily, this is my mother, the Countess of Lonsdale.”
The countess was a stunning woman in her fifties. Lily did her best to smile despite her nerves.
“You may call me Violet, Mrs. Wycliff. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And please call me Lily.” Lily’s tone betrayed none of her inner turmoil.
Violet smiled warmly. “Lily. A lovely name for a lovely woman.” Violet turned to her daughter. “This is Ella.”
Lily nodded. “Ella.” Charles’s sister beamed at her.
“Now, to business. My son told me that you are a widow?” Violet mused, her gaze sweeping critically over Lily. “Is your mourning period over?”
“Mother!” Charles hissed in warning.
Lily placed a hand on his arm. “It’s all right.” Her first husband was, after all, nothing more than a fabrication. “Yes. He died almost a year and a half ago.”
“And you are a mother as well?” Violet asked.
“Yes. I have a daughter, Sophia. She’s three years old,” Lily answered.
“That’s lovely.” There was no hint of sarcasm in Violet’s tone. “Charles does very well with children, don’t you, Charles?”
“Possibly because he is still one himself,” Ella said half to herself with a chuckle.
Charles’s face went as red as a ripe strawberry. “Mother,” he groaned, staring at his boots, looking bashful. Lily nearly laughed. How she adored him, even when he was completely flustered.
“But it is true,” Ella added. “He’s quite wonderful with children.”
“I know.” Lily laughed, remembering all the times Charles and Kat had played together, and how Kat seemed to glow whenever he interacted with her.
“You know? Charles, have you met her daughter?”
“No, he hasn’t.” Lily realized her mistake. “I meant, Emily has told me how good he is with children.”
“Oh, I see.” Before anything more could be said, the orchestra below began to play, signaling that the opera was soon to begin. Charles ushered her to a chair by the edge of the box and sat beside her.
A hush fell over the crowd. Lily accepted one of the small cards Charles handed her and examined the title in the candlelight: The Devil to Pay.
The title made her shiver. Charles reached over and curled his fingers through hers. She could feel the heat of his palm through her silk gloves.
As the opening overture began, she squeezed his hand back and favored him with a smile. Everything would be all right. It was only an opera. She had to try to enjoy it or else Charles would sense something was wrong.