BaronAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks

by Golden, Paullett

  When they reached a pebbled lane, she stopped and turned to him. “This is where I leave you, I’m afraid,” she said, pouting playfully.

  “I could wait, if you’d like, and walk you to your next appointment.”

  The prospect of standing about outside for half hour intervals did not sound all that appealing, but if it meant more time with her, he would do it gladly.

  “Tempting, but each patient is along the way back to the cottage, so the walks between stops would be too short for real conversation. You would have only enough time to tell me about the weather, and that simply will not do.”

  She reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Her touch sent waves of longing rippling through him, smooth flesh against his cheek, tender in its caress.

  “I will see you and my brother tonight,” she said, letting her hand fall to her side.

  “Yes, we’ll come by way of carriage at dusk. Do you…um…did you…well, should you need a dress for dinner, I could have something delivered from the modiste’s shop,” he stuttered, hoping he was not overstepping his bounds or insinuating that whatever she might wear would be an embarrassment.

  So long as she was by his side, she could wear a tea towel to Sir Gene’s if she wished.

  Instead of being offended, as he worried she might be, she laughed. “I have something to wear, Walter. No need to worry. I’ll see you at dusk.”

  With that, she hoisted her bag into both arms, turned around, and walked down the lane to an unseen house. Walter watched her, enjoying the swish of her braid and the sway of her hips, until she crested the hill.

  “For crying in a teacup!” Lilith cursed, stabbing her hair with a pin.

  For what seemed an eternity, she had been trying to style her hair. The pins would not hold with conviction.

  “My kingdom for Hannah’s help,” she said to the mirror.

  Of course, it would be simpler if she stayed home. Never had she needed to bother with her hair or dress, but then, neither had she been invited to a dinner such as this.

  As bothersome as it was to attempt to don stays, a dress with petticoat, and hair pins without assistance, she was excited about the dinner. Yes, she was nervous she would be ill-received, but above all, she was excited.

  It had been Walter’s doing. When he had shown up with flowers in hand, dressed in those shockingly tight buckskins—oh my!—looking dazzlingly handsome, she had known herself fallen for his charms. That did not mean she was ready to enter his world, consigning her days to polite conversation with fake-faced toffs and leaving behind her happy home, but it did mean she was tempted. She wanted to be convinced. As incongruous as they must have looked on the walk to Mrs. O’Shane’s, she drab and he posh, she had felt at home on his arm.

  Was that not what she had always wanted? To belong? Through her childhood, she had been made to feel an outsider by her father. Once abandoned to the orphanage, she again did not belong, for she had been raised a lady. Growing up, she had fought to belong in the village, doing all she could to befriend her neighbors, but there was an invisible wall she could never surmount. Though she had carved her place, she knew she did not belong.

  And yet, on Walter’s arm, she had belonged. There was a feeling of rightness about it.

  She hoped he would find a way to convince her. It was such a leap to move from one world to the next and such a risk of censure for them both, but she wanted to make it work somehow.

  Angling the hair pin into the sloppily arranged knot, she gave a hearty shove. “There. I’ve bested you at last,” she said to her reflection.

  Her dress was nothing new. Had she not wanted to save the dress she purchased with Hazel for a more special occasion, she would have worn it instead. The dresses Lizbeth had given her were still at the castle, waiting for her return. The dress she chose for this evening was one she kept in the back of her bureau, tucked away for christenings and weddings. It was a deep, crepe shade of pink, open in the front to reveal a petticoat of a lighter shade. The sleeves were elbow length with a short edging of lace. It had never been particularly fashionable. There were no pleats, no stomacher, no corset, and no pannier. It was a simple close-bodied bodice with matching skirt.

  Giving herself a final look in the mirror, she headed downstairs to wait. As luck would have it, she did not have to wait long, for a quarter of an hour later there was a knock.

  Walter stood on the terrace, the carriage waiting behind him past the walled garden. She gawked. He looked ready for a ball. Oh, she wanted to run back upstairs and hide! What must he think of her in this ancient and dreadfully simple dress? He was breathtaking.

  Without a hat, his curls roamed freely. What had she called him when they first met? An angel? He wore a cobalt-blue ensemble, the coat and waistcoat of brocaded indigo silk. It was exquisite. Lilith longed to reach out and feel the threads. His breeches matched, and though they were not as tight as his buckskins, they hugged his frame deliciously. His stockings were clocked, and his shoes were buckled and heeled. He was exquisite.

  Before she stepped over the threshold, he closed the space between them. She thought, for a second, he was going to embrace her. Her breath caught.

  “Turn around,” he said.

  Not the opening line she expected.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “A strand of your hair escaped. If you’ll allow me….” His eyes laughed when her hands flew to her hair.

  “Oh, for crying in a handkerchief! Yes, please by all means. If you can win against these dastardly pins, I’ll be forever in your debt.” She turned her back to him.

  When he responded, he was much closer than she had anticipated.

  “How shall you repay me when I call in the debt?” His breath grazed her ear, making her shiver, his voice a low caress that sent a throbbing ache through her womb.

  All she could do was laugh. If she spoke now, the tremor in her voice would betray her.

  His hands worked at her hair, adjusting more than one pin. As he repaired the damage, she could concentrate on nothing except the heat from his body inches from hers.

  “I don’t claim to be a hairdresser, but hopefully the pins will hold. Not that I would complain if your hair tumbled down before the end of the evening.” He said the last line so close to her ear, she could feel the shadow of his lips touching her skin.

  And then he was gone. A cool air wafted against her neck, and she felt bereft. She turned back to face him. He was standing a few steps away.

  “Shall we conquer the world?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  “We shall. One dinner party at a time.” She laid a gloved hand on his arm.

  Sebastian was waiting for them in the carriage, looking devilishly handsome, his long hair swept back by a large, scarlet ribbon, his ensemble matching in wine-red silk. With his dark features, he appeared almost demonic next to the angelic Walter.

  They exchanged light conversation as the carriage made its way to Arbor House, a much shorter drive than she was accustomed to since she always trekked it on foot for her appointments with Lady Graham. How unusual that tonight would be to visit as a guest rather than a servant. The only rooms she had seen were the lady’s chamber and Sir Graham’s study. Would they feel imposed upon by her presence or welcome her as the sister of an earl? A tiny corner of her mind mulled over if she wanted her brother to announce her as lady or miss.

  The carriage halted before a manor with classic columns. A footman set out the steps, opened the door, and helped Lilith out with a regal bow. With Walter at her side awarding her with a wink of reassurance and Sebastian taking the lead, Lilith walked to where the butler waited.

  Goodness. She had never entered by way of the front door. There was something otherworldly about this moment, as though she were a different person in Lilith’s body, having a glimpse of what life could have been, what life might still b
e, if she chose to embrace it despite the risks and consequences.

  Sebastian handed the stodgy butler a card. As they were shown in, Lilith’s knees knocked. She knew so little about this world and its conventions. She was not completely ignorant of their ways given she did deal with the local gentry from time to time, but she had much to learn if she were to consider becoming part of it. What if she made a grievous faux-pas and embarrassed her brother and Walter?

  The butler ushered them upstairs into a drawing room.

  The room was smaller than she had expected, an impressive pianoforte taking up much of the space. Several people were standing at the far end of the room, having risen to greet the guests.

  Her heart raced to see it was not only the host and hostess. Three other people stood with them. Three people she did not want to see. A wave of apprehension swept over her.

  “Lord Roddam and Lord Collingwood! So glad you’ve come,” Sir Graham said, approaching the trio. “Ah, and Miss Chambers.” As an afterthought, he added, “My wife will enjoy your company.”

  The group she did not wish to see followed in step with the host.

  Lilith sucked in a breath.

  “Oh, I say! I never expected to see you here!” Walter exclaimed in jovial spirits.

  Dismayed, Lilith gawked. Did he know these beasts?

  Two slender women with bouncing blonde ringlets and high-held chins tittered their way to him, followed by a fair-haired gentleman who bore a family resemblance. Though she had only seen the gentleman once before, she knew the women, or knew of them, rather. They were the two ladies she oft passed on the bridge after her appointments with Lady Graham. However silly it would be to think they timed their visits to catch her as she was leaving, she wondered if they did.

  With eyes that twinkled, they set their gazes on Walter, ignoring Lilith.

  “Miss Carmichael, Miss Lynda, and Mr. Carmichael—what a pleasure!” Walter bowed over the hands of the women and nodded to the gentleman. “How’s the viscount? I didn’t see him in London this year.”

  “Father has developed a cough. Nothing to worry about, but his physician recommends bed rest until it clears,” said Mr. Carmichael.

  Sir Graham took the initiative to introduce the Carmichaels to Sebastian. Lilith stood to one side, forgotten. It was for the best. She had no wish to socialize with them.

  Just when she turned to speak with Lady Graham, Walter said, “Allow me to make introductions.”

  She hoped her groan was not audible.

  “May I introduce to you Miss Carmichael, her sister Miss Lynda, and their brother, Mr. Carmichael?” Walter looked at her expectantly, his eyebrows raised, his mouth twitching a hidden smile.

  It took her far too long to realize what he had done. He had asked her if he could introduce them to her, as though she were their superior, the daughter of an earl. Good heavens! Her emotions were split between reverence for his genius and annoyance for his presumption. There was not time to think of a suitable response or even to decide if she wanted this.

  She nodded ever so imperceptibly.

  Turning to the haughty women with their tall plumes and flaxen curls, he opened his mouth to speak, but the eldest interrupted him.

  “We know Miss Chambers,” the woman said in clipped tones. “No need for introductions.”

  Well!

  Lilith straightened her spine, bringing herself to full height.

  Walter’s smile deepened. “Ah, then you’ve not been properly introduced. Allow me the privilege of introducing Lady Lilith.”

  Lilith’s heart beat so furiously, she thought it might burst. She cast a scolding glance at Walter for taking away her right to choose. Although, perhaps, it was for the best.

  The youngest girl sniffed, her chin raising ever higher.

  Without a trace of a smile, Lilith said to the two women and gentleman, “Lilith, please. I would prefer Lilith.”

  They did not reciprocate with their given names.

  Instead, the eldest woman looked Lilith from head to toe and said, “I believe I had a dress similar during my second Season, two years ago. It is so difficult to find good fashion this far north.”

  The veiled insult was not lost on Lilith, nor was the fact that all women present, including Lady Graham, though she was increasing, wore high waisted dresses with short puffed sleeves. Miss Lynda’s dress was exceptionally trendsetting, made of such nearly sheer gauze that Lilith could make out the outline of her figure in the candlelight. Lilith could not have been more out of place in her long-waisted and long-sleeved dress with petticoat if she tried.

  “Yes, some of us are more fortunate than others,” Lilith replied humbly. “Some, such as yourself, have held their beauty over the years well enough to wear even the most youthful of fashions and colors, though such are usually reserved for those in their first Season rather than their fourth. I could never be so bold as you, Miss Carmichael.”

  Lilith smiled, albeit a tense smile. Miss Carmichael sniffed.

  Mr. Carmichael stepped forward with a bow, clasping Lilith’s hand to kiss the air above it. He was a fine figure of a man, if one liked fair hair and blue eyes, though she suspected he wore padding to accentuate muscles he did not have.

  Dinner was not for another hour. They remained in the drawing room, conversing about the weather and how the sunshine could not possibly last for long, certainly not with autumn around the corner. Lilith did not contribute. She sat with knees pressed together, spine straight, and hands folded in her lap.

  She relished the moment when the butler announced dinner was served.

  Since she was seated next to Mr. Carmichael at the table, dinner was as tedious as the drawing room. She tried to eat silently, not tasting much of the food, though she assumed it was delicious, but Mr. Carmichael was determined to converse. Surely, he was disappointed when she had little to say to his inquiries about the new addition to Arbor House—an expanded conservatory, or so she gathered. She had not known there was a new addition.

  After dinner, the men stayed in the dining room for port and cigars while the ladies proceeded to the drawing room. Oh, why could she not stay with the men? She loathed the idea of being in a room alone with the Carmichael sisters. Even Lady Graham was an uncomfortable companion, for all Lilith could think to say to the woman pertained to her health, her condition, or the twins.

  Would the evening never end?

  She need not have worried about being in a room alone with the women because they ignored her. They spoke of new bonnets, new dresses, and a cornucopia of topics that had Lilith’s mind drifting elsewhere. One specific elsewhere, to be precise. A place of belonging. A place of mutual respect. This was not that place.

  For so long, she had etched her identity as a fellow parishioner. Now that she wanted to be convinced she could fit in another world, she feared the futility of it.

  She had never been opposed to marriage, quite the contrary. Her orphaned mind had dreamed of a gallant knight sweeping her off her feet and the two of them living happily with a herd of children. But dreams were not reality. In her waking days, she wanted nothing but to fit in, to find a home for herself. She put down roots in the parish, carving a reliable and secure future, one in which she knew what to expect. There had been too much unknown in her life, and she feared being lost in a sea of unknown, insecurity, and disrespect.

  This house full of representatives of so-called polite society was not a place of respect or belonging. She sighed and stared at a flickering candle while the women whinged.

  The men did not linger long in the dining room. Sebastian likely had much to do with that, as he was not a social person, not to mention he would be anxious about her trapped alone in the lion’s den. With Walter and Sebastian at her side again, she felt easier.

  Sebastian opened the conversation. “Collingwood and I had the opportunity to visit the
construction site for the foundling hospital this afternoon. The Reverend Sands showed us about.”

  Their host said, “Yes, dreadful business. Such a facility can only bring rubbish to the village.”

  “It was my patronage that made it possible,” Sebastian said without inflection.

  Lifting his quizzing glass to his eye, the baronet studied Sebastian.

  “Good for you,” he said at length. “Someone has to stand up for the children. I applaud your efforts. I was saying to Mr. Wimple the other day—wasn’t I, Ethel?” He turned to Lady Graham. “That when someone speaks disparagingly against the orphanage or the hospital, he need only look to the Bible.”

  “Need he?” Sebastian raised a single brow. “And what will he find?”

  “Well, you know.” Sir Graham huffed and waved a hand without expounding.

  “Do I?” Sebastian asked.

  All at the table were quiet.

  Raising her voice for the first time all evening, Lilith said, “James 1:27 and Psalm 127:3, for starters, speak to the love we must show to children, all children, especially orphans.” She fixed her gaze on her host. When he made no effort to respond, she turned to Walter. “Were you able to speak with Mrs. Copeland, Lord Collingwood?” Glancing back to Sir Graham, she added, “His lordship plans to open an orphanage of his own. Did you know?”

  Walter, in his wonderful way, beamed with pride. “Yes, and I’ve toyed with adding on a foundling hospital, though it seems an enormous undertaking.”

  Miss Carmichael, with a thin-lipped smile, asked in a tone of innocent condescension, “Do you not find it lowering to associate with miscreants?”

  Walter frowned. “I think not, Miss Carmichael. I will be honored to have a hand in rearing a future generation. Their futures may seem bleak, but I would know their childhood to have been safe and constructive and their work ethic schooled. We all have a place in this world, a destiny to fulfill. What a privilege it’ll be to help them embark on that journey of discovery.”

  Sebastian glared daggers at Miss Carmichael. “And what do you recommend be done with them? Bar them in a room and slide food under the door?”