In her years as a socialite, Lily had rarely capitalized on her status as a woman of influence. But as she’d faced Dr. White and announced that she intended to oversee Nathan’s care, she’d capitalized. Shamelessly. As a result, she’d achieved exactly what she wanted.
All of it had amounted to a rather heady feeling.
Nathan had slept for several hours after the operation, while she sat at his side, attempting to read a book. She only made it a paragraph or two before she set the volume aside and allowed herself to study him, memorizing every inch of his features. The way his hair curled slightly over his forehead. The tiny scar just below his right eye. How his lips parted slightly with each intake of breath. His slightly thicker lower lip, the narrower upper, the faintest growth of stubble…
A flaming blush whooshed over her cheeks. Perhaps her perusal was becoming a bit too intense. Best stick to assessing vital signs.
The gentle ticking of the wall clock and Nathan’s even breathing proved a soothing symphony for her own emotions. Mother’s sickroom had rarely been this calm. There had always been the sounds of tossing, moans, unrest. Lily had been compelled to sit there, hour after long hour. Compelled not by any financial woes preventing them from hiring a nurse, but from something deep within herself. A voice that said she’d never been a worthy daughter, a worthy person. Her mother’s illness had been a chance to prove that voice to the contrary. Yet after long months of seclusion, she’d reneged. Her father hired a reputable caretaker, and Lily had entered her long-postponed debut season.
Her mother had died three months later, the agony wracking her body put to rest.
Lily wed Jackson as soon as it was proper, her own agony just beginning.
Nathan shifted on the bed. His eyes, green as the shrubs lining her avenue, opened.
“Hey.” A small smile angled his lips upward.
“Oh. You’re awake.” She pushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I trust you slept well.”
“All right, I guess. I feel a sight better than I did before the operation.”
“I can imagine. Are you hungry?”
He gave a nod.
“Anything particular that you’d fancy eating? I think everyone else just had sandwiches. Everything has been rather topsy-turvy all day. But I can see to it you get whatever you want.”
He reached up and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Maybe a piece of toast. I don’t feel up for anything adventurous.”
“What about some broth?”
“That sounds good, too.”
“Then I’ll inform one of the kitchen maids.” She stood. “I’ll be right back.” But before she could turn to go, he grabbed her hand, capturing it in a surprisingly strong grip.
“You didn’t need to go to all this trouble to take care of me. I’m not that special.” The warmth of his hands sent a jolt of electricity clear down to her toes, followed by a rush of longing. For what, she couldn’t be sure.
She swallowed. “After all the kindness you’ve shown me, how could I not care for you in your hour of need? And you are very special. And very important. To me and to this house.” She quickly disentangled her fingers, relieved when the unfamiliar sensation vanished. “I’ll be right back.”
Then she left the room, the remembrance of his hands within hers a hot coal in her already tumultuous mind.
There’s no great loss without some small gain, had been one of his mother’s favorite expressions. In this case, there’d been a small loss with great gain. Nathan had lost his appendix and gained hours of uninterrupted time with Lily. At first, he’d been in too much pain to fully appreciate the experience. But four days later, able to walk and tend to his own personal needs, he had to admit every ounce of pain he’d endured was well worth it.
Though he didn’t actually need a nurse, she continued to stay, spending several hours a day with him. And with Kingsley gone, the demands on her time had decreased considerably.
They talked. About everything and nothing. Childhood stories. Current events. She made him laugh with her rendition of Mamie Fish’s ill-fated attempts to drive a motorcar. He coaxed her into a fit of giggles sharing the tale of the time when the cook at his first job dropped into a faint during an important dinner party, and Nathan had been marshaled into preparing the soufflé.
She sat beside him now, after he’d finished the story, a thoughtful expression on her face, one hand toying with the diamond teardrop on her earring.
“You’ve had quite the exciting life. You’ve met a lot of people, traveled to places you never thought you’d go.” She dropped her hand and met his gaze. “If you’d stayed on the farm in Pennsylvania, you wouldn’t have had all those experiences.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded, folding his hands atop the quilt covering his legs. Sunlight flittered through the room’s one window, warming the room and adding a golden hue to her creamy skin. “There’s just one thing…”
“Yes?” Lily leaned forward.
He hesitated. Though the boundaries of propriety had continued to slip between them like a little girl’s hair ribbon tilting to one side, the threads separating his class and hers had never truly fallen. They held fast, less constraining perhaps, but still secure and intact. Sharing with her—not as a listening ear for her thoughts and plans, but revealing a piece of himself—one rubbed raw by life’s hard blows and usually kept shoved in the back of his mind, would mean a sight more to him than it would to her. Still, she waited, the look in her eyes confirming her interest.
“I wanted to become a teacher.”
Her eyes widened. Not with shock or annoyance but plain, simple interest. “Go on.” She must have realized the words sounded a bit imperious, because she added: “Please, tell me more…Nathan.”
He needed no second invitation. Just the sound of his name on her lips was enough to make him willing to pledge the world to her. She had such a way of saying it, quiet and breathy and sweet enough to make him want to pull her into a closet, lock the door, and find out for himself if her hair was as soft as it looked, if the top of her head would rest just below his chin, if he would ever tire of inhaling the scent of roses. He already knew the answer to the latter. He never would. The more he held her, the more he’d ache for it.
“The whole idea of me being a teacher is a big joke though. I don’t even have a high school diploma. When I was fourteen, my father got sick and was unable to work. As the oldest, with four young ones under me, school was no longer possible. I do my best to study, even now. I visit the library on my days off and read every chance I can. But there’s no piece of paper proving I have any greater intelligence than one of those ducks your rich friends are always devouring.”
“You don’t enjoy being a chauffeur?”
Was he imagining things, or did a flicker of pain flash across her fathomless eyes, even if for only an instant?
“I consider it a privilege to work under your employ.” He chose his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was give her the impression he didn’t care. When in reality, he cared far more than he’d ever admit. “But I guess I’ve always wanted more. Kind of like how you want to open that halfway house for immigrants. Which, by the way, is an amazing plan.”
An adorable blush took up residence on her cheeks.
“That’s your dream. And I’ve no doubt you’ll succeed. Teaching is mine. There are so many young people, just like I was, who have the ability to make something more of themselves, become something great, if only to rise above the lot circumstance has dealt them. But it’s sort of like the safe upstairs. To get your hands on the treasure, you first need to find the key. I believe education is that key.” He must’ve gotten some crazy look on his face, because, as he spoke, she regarded him with an expression of rapt interest.
“Why, that’s brilliant.” She seemed to exhale, rather than verbalize the words. “I can’t remember the last time I heard something so…so inspiring. You have such passion, Nathan. I want to help you in any way I can.”
“Just hearing those words is help enough.” He swallowed. “Besides”—he added a grin to his words—“you do help me. You pay my salary. And living in New York gives me access to a lot of things I wouldn’t have had on the farm. I wouldn’t change the life I’ve lived. I just want to, someday, open another chapter.”
A rap sounded on the door. Mavis, Lily’s maid, stuck her head inside.
“If you please, ma’am, Mrs. Worthington-Chamblee has arrived and is waiting in the drawing room.”
Lily smiled at the maid with the same courtesy she showed to all her servants. His chest tightened at the sweetness of it, at the special woman whom he had the privilege of knowing.
“I’ll be down momentarily.”
Mavis shut the door.
Lily stood, sending the scent of roses wafting over him. He found himself wondering, after he was recovered and she no longer sat with him, how long that smell would linger in his room before dissipating forever.
Her shoulders straightened. “This conversation may be over, but I’m not finished with it. I’m going to help you. I don’t know how yet. But I will. Just you wait and see.”