The Baron and The Enchantress (An Enchantress Novel Book 3)

by Paullett Golden

  Not that he was a stickler for decorum, but he was embarrassed to think Lady Lilith would be greeted thusly by her own brother and sister-in-law.

  He rubbed the back of his neck.

  He had never actually seen a woman’s feet before. And Lizbeth’s stockinged feet with ankles bared below the hem of her dress, as if they had a mind of their own, discomfited him.

  To make the day all the more peculiar, Roddam had not arranged any sort of fanfare for his sister’s arrival. Walter would have expected a servant to be watching for the coach so they could welcome her in a receiving line, but when he mentioned this, he earned a laugh, a pat on the back, and a reply that instructed him to go back to the Duke of Annick’s estate if he wished for ceremony.

  And so instead they all picnicked, enjoying the salty air, the song of the kittiwakes, and the view of the ocean which rolled a deep shade of emerald with pearly froth.

  “I will be heard,” his mother was saying. “Ignore me if you wish, but I will be heard. You must not remain out of doors any longer. I’ll escort you to the castle, Lizbeth.” Hazel frowned at her niece. “When I had my lie-in, I was confined to the bed without the intrusion of light for a full month. The accoucheur visited weekly for bloodletting. And look how healthy Walter turned out.” She patted her son’s hand.

  Lizbeth smiled, her hands stroking her round belly. “I’ve agreed to follow my midwife’s instructions. Lilith knows her business. I’m under strict orders to walk in the sun every day, and I wouldn’t dare anger her with disobedience.”

  Hazel clucked. “Just what you need—more freckles. You shouldn’t be walking in the sun at all. I can’t think any of this is healthy for your condition. Sister-in-law or not, are you positive of her credentials?”

  Cuthbert replied to his sister Hazel in a strong Cornish accent, “My Lizzie needs no excuse for a day in the sun. It strikes me she would have interviewed a dozen midwives until she found the one to give her permission to do what she willed.”

  The family bickered playfully, unaware for some time that the butler was escorting a woman from the castle. Walter saw the pair first and would have announced their approach had he not been struck dumb.

  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, simply a woman walking down the slope between keep and cliffside, bracing against the wind, a hand held to her bonnet. But then she drew closer and looked up, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of seconds.

  At first, he felt her more than saw her. His body tingled; his stomach somersaulted; his thoughts fled.

  Walking towards him strode the most breathtakingly handsome woman he had ever seen. She towered above the butler in height, likely only a few inches shorter than himself, or at least he suspected from this distance. This was no simpering girl who approached the picnic, rather a confidently poised woman with a supple body, ample hips, and a lithe form.

  She was undoubtedly Roddam’s sister, for she bore his features, but she did wondrous magic to the shared likeness. Beneath the unadorned straw bonnet, her hair, black as night and plaited down her back, slipped free from the braid a strand at a time to whirl about her in the wind. Brushing the wisps from her face, she revealed a slender visage with an aquiline nose over full, naturally red lips.

  She was not the least bit pretty, to be honest. In fact, she was unfashionably the opposite of pretty. Yet, instead of being homely, she was remarkably, austerely…handsome. Regal was the word that came to Walter’s mind. In place of her sprigged dress, he imagined her bedecked with crown, jewels, and furs, for never had he witnessed a more noble brow.

  Before he could stop himself, he stood and walked towards her, drawn to her as though bewitched. Her eyes lit on his once more, captivating him. They were as dark as her hair, full of wisdom and silent humor, laughing at the world, and likely at him. A swirl of breeze brought her scent to his nostrils, intoxicating him with a mixture of sweat and earth, a heady aroma of woman rather than perfume. Who was this enchantress?

  A figure raced past him then, breaking the sorcery. Lord Roddam flew at his sister in a laughter-filled roar, embracing her indelicately by lifting her in the air and spinning her in circles. Her laughter mingled with her brother’s. Walter stared, transfixed.

  The greeting was alarming, hardly appropriate between a lady and a gentleman, even if they were siblings. He supposed their behavior made sense in this strange world in which he found himself, a world of barefoot earls and dark-eyed sirens.

  With a nod of appreciation to the butler, Roddam escorted her the remaining steps, one arm wrapped around her shoulders.

  “Collingwood, my good man. Allow me the great honor of introducing my sister Lilith,” Roddam said, his voice proud. “And may I present to you Walter, Lord Collingwood?”

  Walter stepped forward, taking her outstretched hand. He bowed over it as deeply as he would if she were a queen or, more aptly, Circe herself. He touched his lips to the air above her knuckles.

  “Lady Lilith. It is an honor,” Walter said, hoping the howling of the wind drowned out the pounding of his heart.

  Their eyes met.

  With a straight spine, she held his gaze steady. He could not read her eyes. He could not read anything about her.

  She curtsied. “Miss Chambers, my lord, or Lilith, if you prefer.”

  His knees weakened.

  Had she truly given him permission to use her Christian name? And with such a voice? Her voice was a sultry, husky velvet. Dear Lord in Heaven!

  The pair moved past him so that Roddam could introduce her to the rest of the family. Walter remained planted, growing roots while facing the wrong direction. The warmth from her hand lingered in his. With eyes closed, he memorized her aroma, her touch, her voice, her face.

  Could this be it? Could this be love at first sight? Fleetingly, he wondered if it was too soon to propose.

  Lilith sat next to her sister-in-law, listening attentively to Lizbeth’s full report of her dutifully followed regimen of walks, naps, and herbal teas. Only half an hour had passed since her arrival, but already Lilith felt she belonged. Lizbeth treated her as a sister, and Sebastian could not stop smiling at her.

  The whole scene felt wonderful.

  In fact, the only impediment to her present happiness was the pair of stuffed shirts sitting on the bench gawking at her. The young man was everything she despised. A refined gentleman, an aristocrat through and through, not precisely dandified, but undeniably impeccable in manner and dress.

  As Lizbeth chattered to her, Lilith found her eyes flitting back to the man. Lord Collingwood.

  He hailed from that world, a world full of hate and pride, a world where ladies ran over commoners with their horses without a backward glance and men abandoned their unwanted daughters.

  If he had been a Mr. Collingwood, and if he had been dressed in as casual attire as the other men in the group, she would have found him attractive. Green eyes the shade of jade surrounded by long eyelashes, a gracefully lean physique with the faint scent of cologne, and cherubic curls a becoming russet color, red more than brown in the bright sun. Long sideburns framed an angelic face with smooth cheeks and alabaster complexion. He was, in a word, beautiful.

  If he did not wear his peerage on his sleeve, she would find him unquestionably attractive, kissably attractive, in fact; but, alas, she hated both him and his mother on sight.

  She straightened her posture in response to their stares. They would not ruffle her feathers. They would not discompose her. This holiday was for her to help Lizbeth during her confinement and to spend more time with her brother. Nothing could wreck that for her. If they did not like her, they could leave.

  Lady Collingwood, wearing a haughty expression and fashionable attire wholly out of place for a picnic, pointed a gloved finger at Lilith. “I’ve a bone to pick with you, young lady.”

  Lilith bristled.

  “My niece says you
’ve been encouraging this reckless behavior of being out of doors in her current condition.” The woman scoffed.

  “You are not wrong, my lady. I stand by my advice, however modern it might seem to you. The physician’s way, if you’ll pardon my saying, is archaic.”

  “Hmph. Archaic,” Lady Collingwood muttered. “Well, I’ve never heard of this sunshine prescription.”

  Lilith clenched her jaw but forced a smile. “Trust me to take care of your niece. I know what I’m about.”

  Lizbeth chimed in, “With or without permission, I would refuse to waste a perfectly lovely day indoors. Have you ever seen a more beautiful day?”

  A deep voice answered, “She’s the most beautiful I’ve seen.”

  All eyes turned to the speaker—Lord Collingwood. He was staring at Lilith.

  When he realized they were all looking at him, the tips of his ears reddened.

  “The day, that is,” he stammered. “She’s a beautiful day. That is to say, if the day were personified—.”

  Lady Collingwood interrupted him. “It’s perfectly understandable to be tongue-tied, my boy. We shouldn’t be speaking so openly of delicate conditions.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, the redness of his ears spreading to his cheeks.

  What a peculiar young man, Lilith thought.

  She looked to her sister-in-law, ready to defend herself further if needed, but behind Liz’s cheery disposition, Lilith could see her fatigue. As much as she dared not admit it aloud, Lady Collingwood was right. Not entirely, but in so far as Liz’s being outside too long.

  Holding Lizbeth’s hand in hers, she said to the group, “I am thankful for the warm welcome, but I fear I am worn from the trip. Would you all mind excusing me for a brief repose? I do believe I shall take our hostess with me for a private word about herbs.”

  “Rest as long as you would like, Lilith. We won’t expect you until dinner,” Sebastian replied. He leaned in and whispered for her ears only, “See that my wife rests. She listens to your sage advice more than she listens to my nattering.”

  As Sebastian helped his wife to her feet, Lord Collingwood rose from the bench and rushed over to assist.

  Looking at Lilith rather than his cousin, he said, “Allow me to escort you both.”

  Lizbeth patted his cheek. “Aren’t you gallant! Thank you, but we’ll manage.”

  The remaining party members joined them at the edge of the gazebo, all agreeing to return to the castle anyway, following shortly behind Lilith and her charge.

  Leaving the troupe downstairs, Lilith saw Lizbeth to the bedchamber.

  Having visited on numerous occasions throughout Liz’s pregnancy, Lilith slipped into the routine of caretaker, seeing to the comfort and health of her sister-in-law before her own. This role gave her a sense of purpose. She could not imagine the discomfort that might come from being only a guest, waited on by servants, pampered by the host and hostess, treated like the lady she was not.

  After settling Liz into bed and adding her own herbs to the tea the countess’ lady’s maid brought, Lilith turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Liz called out. “I’ll have a maid sent to help you refresh and change for dinner. You’ll find a few dresses in the armoire. Whatever doesn’t fit, we can have altered, but I thought you might like them. You’d look especially lovely in the green, I think.”

  Lilith countered, “I’ve never had a maid and don’t intend to make a habit of one, so no, thank you. I brought enough dresses for the visit.”

  With a smile, she departed for her own guest room.

  The dresses were tempting, as she only owned four, all self-sewn. Giving into such a temptation, however, would inspire ideas above her station. Her own dresses may be well-worn, but she would rather wear them than play dress-up in silks and satins made for a member of the peerage.

  The guest rooms were on the second floor of the south wing. Lilith made her way to the second floor of the north wing, instead. Sebastian and Lizbeth had once insisted she stay in the guest wing, but since Lilith visited for the purpose of serving as midwife, it made more sense for her to reside in the nursery. In this way, she would be on hand after the baby’s arrival to care for both baby and mother.

  The nursery stretched across the entire second floor of the north wing, consisting of a playroom, nurse’s quarters, sleeping quarters with cot and bed, and several empty rooms still awaiting designation, all intended for the baby and future children. Windows lined the north and south walls of the wing, one side looking out to the beach and the other down to the inner courtyard. Before making her way to the nurse’s quarters, Lilith admired the changes they had made since her previous visit.

  The playroom’s décor was sea themed with a gilded frieze of mermaids bordering the room and an underwater mural with the top half depicting the horizon at dawn and the bottom half a seascape with sea castles, sea creatures, and Poseidon with his trident. She imagined a child being happy here, for the love and attention that went into designing this wing shown evidently in each detail.

  Walking to the mural, she touched the image of Aphrodite born on the sea foam at the horizon of the painting. She trailed her fingers along the textured waves until she reached seahorses swimming with nymphs. Lilith stopped at one of the underwater sandcastles, a memory tugging at the edges of her mind.

  The longer she stared at the sandcastles, the stronger images from her childhood superimposed on the painting, slipping her into a poignant memory as vivid as though she were present in that scene rather than in a nursery.

  The woman she believed at the time to be her mother pinned a new bonnet to young Lilith’s hair. Lilith couldn’t have been more than five years old in this memory. The woman who raised her, Sebastian’s mother, beamed at her, adjusting the bonnet.

  “Dance for me, my love!” she instructed. “Let us see how becoming you look in your bonnet.”

  Eager to please, young Lilith twirled in place, curtsying, then filling the room with giggles.

  “You look like a little princess,” the woman said, her smile faltering when the door to the lady’s dressing room opened and hit the wall with a thud.

  Young Lilith looked up, tentatively stepping forward to the scowling man. “Papa? Do you like my new bonnet?”

  The man crossed the room with heavy steps, reached out to Lilith, and ripped off the bonnet, yanking out the hair that had been pinned to the silk. Before he said a word, Lilith ran from the room, tears blurring her vision, her scalp burning from the pulled hair.

  She ran blindly back to the nursery to find Sebastian riding a rocking horse, a boy intent on riding across the great plains of the nursery to rescue the dolls in distress.

  Lilith tugged at her brother’s sleeve, and without her having to say a word, he understood. His youthful eyes met her own red-rimmed ones, and he knew exactly what to do. He took her hand in his, slipped past the dozing nurse, and together they snuck out of the estate to enjoy an afternoon at the beach, their private oasis from the wicked hand of their father.

  That day, they built a grand sandcastle, so tall it reached the sky with rooms large enough to fit three countries’ worth of toys. They lived in the sandcastle for the rest of the day, each taking turns to describe what they would do in every room and who would be invited to visit. In Sebastian’s favorite room, lived an elephant, visited daily by monkeys. Lilith’s favorite room housed a troupe of acrobats who danced on command.

  They lived in the sandcastle until the tide lapped at its walls. Lilith transformed into a mermaid, forsaking her human form to join the creatures of the sea. Sebastian pledged allegiance to Poseidon, desirous to serve as the guardian of mermaids. Lilith put in a good word for him. They played in harmony until their sandcastle became ammunition for a mud fight. Not once before they returned home, a muddy and wet sight, did they think of their father, but they certainly did after the foo
tprints in the foyer gave them away.

  Lilith let the memory wash over her, one of the few she still carried from before the orphanage, one of the many combining torment with happiness. Her fingers still touching the sandcastle on the mural in the nursery, she shook her mind free of the past.

  At dinner that evening, Lilith straightened her spine at finding herself the center of attention. All at the table were curious about her.

  “You say you teach?” Lady Collingwood asked with derision, or at least her question sounded derisive to Lilith, who knew to expect little else from aristocrats.

  “Yes, I teach mathematics. Although, since there are so few willing to teach at an orphanage, we take turns instructing those subjects in which we do not naturally excel. Miss Tolkey and I, for instance, alternate the weeks we teach dancing, she instructing on the first and third week of the month, and I on the second and fourth.” Lilith stared at Lady Collingwood as she tasted the soup, daring her to speak derogatorily.

  “Instructing orphans in dancing? This is quite a progressive orphanage, I daresay. Do orphans dance often when they grow up?” Lady Collingwood laughed as she asked her nosy questions, but Lilith could not decide if she laughed at the prospect of orphans dancing or laughed with good will that orphans were trained for more than the workhouse.

  The lines around the lady’s mouth and the crinkles around her eyes indicated she laughed often, a merry woman, yet Lilith doubted the haut ton did more than laugh at people, so she found the woman difficult to read.

  Lilith pursed her lips and set down her soup spoon. She prepared to defend her home against this woman if need be.

  “Mrs. Brighton, God rest her soul, opened the orphanage some fifty years ago with the fiscal aid of the parish church,” Lilith explained. “She used church facilities at the time. After a generous benefactor donated a sizable enough amount, a two-story building was erected next to the church to both house and teach the children. There is talk from the current headmistress, Mrs. Copeland, of expanding with a foundling hospital. Our rector, the Reverend Harold Sands, is most supportive of the expansion.”