“Don’t say anything more. There’s no need,” Thomsett said, his voice low.
Lilly dropped her hand. “He told me he loved me. Afterward, when I was too stunned to move. He loved my spirit and my independence and my forward thinking. He was so matter-of-fact about it, as if what he had done was normal, as if it was the way any relationship went. Then he pushed me out of the carriage and I…I ran home, even though the family carriage was right there. I didn’t want anyone to see me.”
She looked out through the window. It was bright sunlight out there, another cloudless August day, yet she saw only the blackness of the street and the pools of light thrown by the gas lamps, that she avoided lest anyone see her state.
“Lilly.”
Lilly made herself look at him. “I wanted you to know who it was you thought you had kissed.”
“Did you think I did not already know?” he asked gently.
She couldn’t meet his gaze any longer. She looked at her hands, turning them over in her lap. “Everyone thinks they understand.” The core of the truth sat there in her heart. She couldn’t speak the words, even though they had driven her every day for seven years. Instead, she skirted them, as she had all along. “It’s my fault. I don’t deserve to have…a life.”
“You judge yourself too harshly,” Thomsett said. “I do not.”
“You should.”
“Any gentleman might. I know what society expects of a woman,” Thomsett said in agreement. “I am not a gentleman, though. My mother was a disgraced woman, Lilly. If I did not judge her, how can I judge you?”
Lilly gripped her hands together. “You are…are…”
“I am a bastard,” he said flatly. “As we are using blunt words,” he added. “My mother came from an upper class family and fell in love with an Archduke. He couldn’t marry her, not even when she told him she was with child, although he took care of her for her entire life. It didn’t matter, the damage was done. Her family never spoke to her again.”
Lilly’s heart seemed to come to a small standstill, before it kicked back into a fast rhythm. “You are the son of royalty?”
“The illegitimate son,” he amended. No bitterness sounded in his voice for the life he might have had. “Less than even the common man on the street,” he added. “They at least have their father’s name they can claim.” His gaze was calm. “The initials you saw…there was one missing. My full name, the complete name, is Jasper Anson Dominik Thomsett.”
“Dominik was your father’s name? The Archduke?”
“It was, although I cannot claim even that much, publicly. I am nobody and nothing…even less than a man, now. That is why anything that lies between us cannot be given life.”
Lilly jumped a little. “You keep saying that. You still do not understand. I am not making myself clear enough.” She sat up—for slouching was possible without a corset, a delightful fact she had discovered lately. “I must be even more blunt than I have been already and risk shocking you.”
“I was a soldier. There is nothing you could say that would shock me.” The corners of his mouth turned up just a little. “Although you may try.”
Lilly licked her lips. She spoke of shocking him, yet to say the words aloud took courage. “At the stile, that day, do you remember?”
“I remember every little detail,” he said, his voice low.
“I could not kiss you, even though I wanted to.”
“Because I was too close. I made your memories return.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Why do you sound pleased about that?” he demanded. “Do you not know how much I hated myself for that?”
“I am pleased, because when you did kiss me, over there, just behind where you sit now, the memories didn’t stir at all. Not even a little bit.”
He grew still. Lilly watched as his thoughts turn inward, as if his mind was furiously busy. Reassessing, perhaps. Certainly, thinking it through.
“I was angry at Newman,” Lilly said. “His cavalier attitude toward you began it. His utter assurance that he could overcome any objection I might have made it grow. So when you did kiss me, the anger kept the memories away long enough for me to experience your kiss.”
“You enjoyed it…” he breathed. His gaze met hers. “I was so sure of you, I thought the sound you made was one of terror.”
The world seemed to shift. Even the light changed, as Lilly saw how it had looked to him. “Oh, Jasper…”
He drew in a breath and leaned back against the alcove wall and let it out, his gaze upon the ceiling.
“Tell me you were kissing an earl’s daughter,” Lilly urged. “Tell me you give a damn about my title.”
Thomsett drew in another breath. “I know why you want that to be the reason why I kissed you. You want to despise me, so you can push me away. Only, my father was an Archduke, Lilly. I care as much for such matters as you do.”
Lilly hung her head. “I knew that,” she admitted. “There were so many things you said and did that told me you didn’t care. You even call me Lilly, every now and again. You were scrupulous about addressing everyone correctly, yet I always felt that, in your mind, we were all merely Lilly and Natasha and Raymond and so on.”
“It isn’t disrespect,” he said, his voice low. “In my mind you are…”
“People?” Lilly suggested.
“Friends,” he amended.
Lilly sighed. “Yet I am still Lady Lillian. What you think in your mind cannot change that. As honorable and admirable as I believe you to be means I can never be worthy of you.”
“Which I will dispute to the end of my days,” he said, his voice harsh. “Not that it matters. Lilly, you keep sliding past the one overbearing reason why that kiss should never have happened and it has nothing to do with what you think of yourself, or any objections the ton may come up with, which would be legion, I assure you. The fact is, I am less than a man. War changed me. You saw it yourself, the day of the trooping of colors. You saw what the mere sound of violence did to me. Only it’s more than that. In the face of anger, or the threat of conflict I…wither.” His tone was flat. He was making himself say such awful things. “Even the simplest of men can defend their house and hearth and protect their families. I cannot do even that.”
His gaze met hers. A deep furrow marred his brow. It was hurting him to speak of this.
“You say you don’t care what I am, Lilly. Let’s suppose for a moment that I accept that and we stood together and faced not just the wrath and dismay of your family, but also the gauntlet of society….” He shook his head. “I would be useless to you,” he finished. The bitterness this time was deep. “At the first hint of disapproval, I would fold and creep away to nurse my ills.”
Lilly understood. Her vision blurred. She felt the heat of her tears on her cheeks and didn’t bother to wipe them away or try to hide them. “You are the only man who has ever made me forget who I am. You are the only one who has touched me, here.” She pressed her fingers over her heart. Then she wiped her eyes for she wanted to see his face.
Thomsett’s expression was miserable. “I would make your life intolerable,” he whispered.
“Then where do we go from here?”
He didn’t answer for a long time. When he did, his voice was hoarse. “I don’t know.”
Chapter Fourteen
What Lilly had not anticipated, what she should have taken into account, was that no matter the result of her plain speaking, the two of them were still obliged to remain in the little cottage. They passed through the days, separated by a yawning acre of silence that Shelby’s cheerful presence did little to fill. Lilly was grateful that Shelby was there at all. She relieved some of the tension, at least, with her gossipy chatting about every near neighbor and the grand house party at the big house.
Even though neither of them asked for details, Shelby explained to them in a rambling monologue about past years’ parties and who had worn what shocking outfit, who had got drunk and the many a
nd varied indiscretions of the guests, both confirmed and conjectured. It was happy, mindless prattle that lifted the silence, as Shelby shelled peas and peeled vegetables.
When Shelby had retired for the night, Lilly retreated to the rocking chair and a book, while Thomsett sat on the end of the sofa closest to the fire and stared at the flames and fed the fire as it needed it. As the lantern sat over Lilly’s shoulder to light the page of her book, only the firelight lit Thomsett’s face, making shadows dance around his eyes and the curls of his black hair.
Lilly found herself watching his face often.
As the end of the week drew near and the night of the house party arrived, the days grew hotter.
“Late August here can be warm,” Shelby said. “For all the sea is only three miles away, there’s not a hint of a breeze will come from it to cool a soul. Three days of this, then there will be a storm to put hell to shame. Mark my words.”
Thomsett let the fire go out in the hearth and they opened up the house, encouraging even the smallest of cross-breezes. Lilly left off all but a single layer of linens beneath her dress to combat the heat and pinned up every loose strand of hair off the back of her neck.
When Thomsett took off his jacket and cravat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, she made no comment. Later, he even removed the collar and placed the pins on the mantelshelf. Then, even his waistcoat.
None of it seemed to help. The heat made the air throb around them.
On the day of the party, the afternoon seemed to last forever. Nothing moved. Even the roses and ivy on the side of the house were wilted and still.
Lilly tried to read, only she was too enervated for even that small exercise. She sat in the rocker with her eyes closed and fanned herself.
Eventually, the sun moved toward the horizon. Long before it set, though, Lilly heard music in the air, like a rumor of the sea from far away.
“Is that Mozart?” she asked, sitting up.
Shelby had been dozing in her chair at the table, her cap nodding. She sat up with a snort and looked around blinking, the towel she had been hemming slithering from her hands.
Thomsett turned his head and closed his eyes, straining to listen. “A contredanse,” he said. “Non più andrai, I think.”
Shelby plucked her dress away from her chest and blew out a breath. “They did say at the big house that they might hold the entire party outside if the weather continued. I’m guessing they did just that.”
Lilly knew the dance quite well. There were several movements to it. She listened, delighted, almost humming along.
Then another tune, faint and cheerful. A Polonaise.
Shelby eased herself onto her feet and opened the front door. Immediately, the music became clearer. “Oh, but that lets in the heat,” she exclaimed and made to close the door once more.
“Please don’t,” Lilly exclaimed. “I would much rather hear the music.”
“Very well,” Shelby said. “In that case, I think lemonade is in order. There’s still half a bag of sugar in the pantry and there may even be some mint…” She went back into the kitchen.
The music heralded a shift in the torpor of the day. As Lilly sipped Shelby’s refreshing lemonade, she wondered if it was her imagination that supplied the tiniest of breezes, to flutter through the room. She got to her feet and stretched.
Thomsett stirred, too. “The wind is changing,” he said, looking out the window. “Shelby’s storm will be here by midnight.”
Lilly looked at the sky. It was cloudless.
“Trust me,” Thomsett said. “You’ll see.”
It was hard to believe, in this enervating heat, that a wild storm was anywhere near at hand.
After supper, though, just as the sun disappeared, Lilly spotted the first wisps of cloud on the horizon, coming in from the sea. With them, came a soft wind.
Lilly lifted her chin and let it bathe her face.
“Step outside, my lady,” Shelby said, as she cleared the table. “It’ll be ever so lovely out there now.”
“That is a good idea,” Lilly said. Thomsett held the door open for her and she stepped out onto the finely ground gravel and stood with her eyes closed as the breeze ruffled her hair.
Perhaps because of the wind, or because they were actually standing outside now, the music from the big house seemed to jump in volume and Lilly thought she could even hear people laughing and talking. The polka was quick and lively and made her toe tap out the beat.
Thomsett stood next to her, his head down, listening.
The music ended and immediately, another tune began. “A waltz,” Lilly identified.
“Strauss,” Thomsett added. He turned to her and held up his hand. “May I?”
Lilly stepped into his arms and they danced, their boots on the gravel crunching unmusically. It didn’t matter, for the music made up for it, as did the sweeping, dipping turns of the dance.
So many matrons disapproved of waltzes, although Lilly had always loved them. Gentlemen never brushed up against their partners. Thomsett was also holding her so the proper six inches was between them, yet she was in his arms and her heart was beating far harder than the simple movements of the waltz demanded.
If only he would draw her closer. If only…
She looked up at him, her eyes blurring with tears.
“You liked to dance, once, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice low. “You are good at it.”
“I did like to dance,” she whispered. “When I was young and foolish and thought I had the rest of my life ahead of me.”
The music ended although Thomsett didn’t come to an abrupt stop. The turns slowed and slowed, until they were standing together, this time with their bodies against each other.
His hand tightened on her waist, as he bent and brought his lips to hers.
There was no misunderstanding this time. No hesitation or fear. The kiss was perfect. Her body seemed to melt against his. This time, when his tongue pressed inside, she welcomed it.
Every inch of her tingled and when he groaned against her mouth, her heart leapt high and hard. Jasper was holding her. Holding her up, while he bent over her and plundered her mouth in a way no polite gentleman ever had.
The memory of Blackawton had no power over her while she was in Jasper’s arms. She could stay here forever.
His kisses grew more frantic. His lips trailed over her jaw and down the length of her throat, as he held her steady. Lilly clutched at his head, not sure if she was guiding him or encouraging him.
Then he brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her again. His forehead touched hers and they grew still.
Both of them were breathing hard. His body was rock hard against her. All of it, including his shaft. She felt no shock or disgust at the sensation of the hot length against her. It just felt…right. For a wicked moment, she wished she was not wearing her hoops, so she could properly feel him.
Thomsett let her go, as she had known he would.
“Good night, Lilly,” he said softly.
“Good night, Jasper.”
She hurried into the house and up to her lonely bed, before she weakened. The rain started as she climbed. When she closed the window in her bedroom, she saw he was still standing where she had left him, his face turned up to the rain.
* * * * *
The next day was far cooler and damp from the night of rain. There were clouds covering the sky, although they were white and threatened nothing more than an overcast day.
Shortly after breakfast, as Lilly was preparing for her daily walk, she heard the canter of hooves on the gravel outside the house. She looked out her window and her heart sank when she saw it was Darnell Newman upon a tall gelding.
Thomsett had already stepped out of the house and was reaching for the bridle to steady the skittish beast, when it neighed and tried to climb the air with its forefeet. The hooves came perilously close to Thomsett, who ducked and stepped back.
Lilly hurried down the stairs, her heart start
ing up again. Her breakfast now sitting in her stomach like a heavy rock.
She stepped out into the yard just as Newman jumped off the horse, his boots landing heavily. His riding breeches were tight and new and his boots polished.
He didn’t smile as he tossed the reins at Thomsett.
Thomsett let them drop to the ground. Instead, he caught the gelding’s bridle again and patted its nose, soothing it with low murmurs.
“Mr. Newman,” Lilly acknowledged. “I presume the house party agenda for this morning is a ride across the moors?” If it was, then she would stay in the house.
“Hunting actually, Lady Lillian. Last night’s rain will draw all the prize catches out to drink.”
“And you stopped by to warn us?” Thomsett asked.
Newman ignored him. Instead, he moved back to his saddle. “I thought you might like to join us, Lady Lillian. It is a fine day and you hardly need be sociable, when every man is watching where his sights point. Look, I even have a gun I think might suit you.”
He pulled out a long barreled gun that might have been a short rifle, or a long pistol and waved it, so Lilly could see it.
“Be careful where you point that thing,” Thomsett growled.
Newman strode toward her, carrying the weapon by the handle, his finger curled about the trigger.
Lilly’s heart squeezed even harder. “I don’t hunt, thank you.”
“Then just come along for the ride. Fresh air and sunshine.” He waved his hand to take in the cloudy day. It was the hand holding the gun. “I ask for nothing else,” he said, with a touch of asperity.
Had Newman been drinking? Sweat shone at his temples, yet his eyes were clear enough…
Lilly flinched as the muzzle swung wildly again. She saw the black dead eye pointing at her.
Thomsett let go of the horse, which immediately neighed and shifted backward in panicked movements, its eyes rolling.
Newman whirled to see what was happening, the gun circling with him. His forearm rammed up against Thomsett’s hand, which he had thrown out, anticipating Newman’s spin. Thomsett immediately jerked Newman’s arm up into the air.
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