Miss Carmichael tittered as though Sebastian had made a joke. Turning to Lilith, she said, “Speaking of the bleak futures of orphans, tell me. What’s it like to be employed?”
Lilith clenched her teeth. “Enriching. Rather than waste my time, idle until death, I see to a better future.”
“What do orphans know of the future when they never leave the confines of their village?” asked Miss Lynda, her words acerbic.
Flexing her fingers and splaying them against her thighs to keep from wringing her hands, Lilith said, “Traveling does not show the future, Miss Lynda. Traveling shows us history and culture. Dreams are what create the future. Orphans do little but dream of what could be. As a teacher and midwife, I help children and parents realize their dreams, even if such a dream is as simple as to be a blacksmith’s apprentice or to have one’s first child.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Walter lean forward.
She had thought a lot about dreams over their month apart. The trouble was that her dreams were dichotomous, one being her life as a midwife and another as Walter’s love, two dreams that could not exist simultaneously. More troubling were the sacrifices she must make to achieve one or the other. Fear kept even the bravest from taking a leap of faith.
Rather than respond, Miss Carmichael rose from her chair and eyed Miss Lynda.
“Shall we take a turn about the room?” she asked her sister.
With the two women in private discourse, Mr. Carmichael launched into conversation with Sebastian and Sir Graham. Lady Graham attempted to make conversation with Lilith who only half paid attention. Not that she needed to pay attention since the conversation solicited no more than one-word responses.
If she were a betting woman, Lilith would wager the lady was discomfited by her presence. She was, after all, Lady Graham’s midwife. To Sir Graham’s credit, he had insisted she call him Sir Gene. He even schooled her on the fact that baronets should never be referred to by their titles, rather their given names. She had smiled, called him Sir Gene, and then went right back to thinking of him as Sir Graham. There was an intimacy with given names she was not ready to share, customary or not.
As Lady Graham chattered, Lilith watched the Carmichael sisters promenade about the room. Her focus was riveted on their interactions with Walter. With each turn, they called for Walter’s attention at the precise moment they walked in front of a candelabra. As thin and sheer as their dresses, little was left to mystery. It could not be Lilith’s imagination that the timing was planned to emphasize their figures.
They were flirting with him. Outrageously.
But then, why would they not? He was handsome and titled. Miss Lynda was young, pretty, and eligible. Miss Carmichael was attractive, available, and undoubtedly growing desperate since she was practically on the shelf.
In their eyes, Lilith was no competition, being an uncouth leper who had been raised in an orphanage and was well into her dotage, at least from their perspective. Though she might have felt frumpy, jealous, or any other emotion, she instead suppressed a smile. Her angel of a suitor paid them about as much mind as he would two pigs in sacks. No, that was unfair to the pigs, for she was certain he would have noticed prancing pigs.
Lady Graham tittered breathlessly, interrupting Lilith’s train of thought, “Was the wedding between Miss Ains and Mr. Wimple not sumptuous?”
Miss Lynda, who had stepped dangerously close to Walter’s chair to fawn over him, responded first. “Mr. Wimple is a true gentleman. She doesn’t deserve him by half.”
Lilith’s ears perked. She wanted no part in gossip, but she knew Harriette and her family well. If they were to speak despairingly of the young girl, Lilith would feel obliged to offer a severe set down. She ought not, for she was a guest.
Miss Carmichael nodded. “I hear he’s so honorable that he married her to save her from scandal.”
Lady Graham’s eyes widened. “Scandal? Why have I not heard this?”
“Rumor has it,” said Miss Carmichael in hushed tones, “that she very nearly compromised him, nothing to force the nuptials, but enough to stir the pot. This is conjecture, and you didn’t hear it from me, but rumor also has it she trapped him to hide a little secret. Have you not noticed how plump she’s become?”
Lord Graham interrupted with a clearing of his throat. “Ethel, why don’t you favor us with a song? My wife has a splendid voice.”
Lady Graham blushed and stood.
“You’ll need accompaniment on the pianoforte,” Miss Carmichael said. “Lady Lilith would be happy to do so, and Lord Collingwood may turn the pages.” The woman’s smile was all that was wicked and scornful as she looked to Lilith. “Oh, but how thoughtless of me. Having been raised in an orphanage, you aren’t accomplished, are you? It’s best, then, that my si—”
Lilith stood, her chin raised high, her blood boiling. “On the contrary, Miss Carmichael. I’ve had music instruction since I was five.”
The carriage swayed at a leisurely pace.
“That was a decadent delight of a meal. The only improvement would have been more courses or larger plates,” Walter said.
Sebastian chuckled. “Is food all you think of, Collingwood?”
“No need to envy my discerning palate, old chap. It’s a natural affinity.”
In the darkness of the carriage, Lilith could feel Walter looking at her. Though she could only make out a shadowy profile, she could feel his eyes on her. She could also feel his foot.
A stockinged foot, free of its shoe, slid over the top of her slipper and rubbed her ankle. She was thankful for the absence of light. If her face reflected the overwarm sensation of the rest of her body, she would surely reveal her sentiments to his touch, namely the desire that throbbed through her.
There was no shame in what she felt. Yes, she was unmarried and ought not to be tempted, but she was also a grown woman. Her lack of personal experience was made up for by her education in midwifery. Lilith was well aware of her desire for Walter. He may be too much of a gentleman to act on it, but she knew he desired her in return. It was something she had given a good deal of thought during their month apart.
“I don’t suppose you had a good evening, Lilith. Was it a terrible disappointment?” Walter said, his foot massaging hers in a sensual caress syncopated by kneading toes.
“On the contrary. I took inexplicable pleasure in seeing Miss Carmichael’s expression when I accompanied Lady Graham with all the grace and dignity my ten thumbs could muster.”
Sebastian howled with laughter, oblivious in the darkness that Walter slid his foot higher up her leg to wrap around her calf.
His voice light with laughter, her brother said, “A glorious set down. I wager that bat couldn’t have performed with any more finesse, Lil.”
“It was not an evening I would have chosen for myself, and I’m not eager to repeat it,” she said. “And yet, I was entertained by their antics, for they behaved no differently than I expected them to. Would it be cruel to compare them to performing monkeys?”
“Oh, I say, Lilith!” Walter exclaimed with a humored chuckle.
“Come now, you must have noticed their behavior. They insulted everyone and anyone to feel better about themselves,” she responded. “I don’t blame them. They have nothing to show for their lives. They go to balls to dance, to dinners to eat, and to drawing rooms to gossip. That is the extent of their lives. What have they accomplished? What will they ever accomplish? Their only hope is to make an advantageous marriage so they may go to more balls, more dinners, and more drawing rooms. I feel sorry for them.”
Sebastian said, “There’s no reason, is there, to mention why I rarely accept invitations?”
“Oh, but ‘Bastian, how could you resist? Do not all women dress as the Carmichaels and strategically position themselves in front of candles to tease and tempt with their coltish outlines?”
<
br /> Lilith heard a thwack as Sebastian slapped his leg before roaring with laughter.
Walter coughed a nervous laugh. “I can’t say I noticed.”
“No, I don’t believe you did. You were being quite wicked to those poor women who were all but prostrating themselves. The least you could have done was pay them a compliment,” she teased.
“Ah, but I only have eyes for you, my enchanting siren,” he said.
“Oh,” she blushed furiously in her shadowed side of the carriage. “Oh, well done.”
The trio fell into silence, Walter’s foot continuing its exploration of her calf, thankfully, not venturing any higher.
As the carriage neared the inn, Lilith said, “It was naughty of you to introduce me as Lady Lilith.”
“I noticed you didn’t contradict me,” Walter said.
The lanterns hanging from the inn’s corner posts slanted a dull glow across Walter’s face. He was smiling coyly at her, his eyes half-lidded.
“You knew I wouldn’t,” Lilith said, swallowing against the onslaught of yearning those half-lidded eyes caused.
“Not so. I honestly thought you might. You’re, shall we say, willful enough to have put me in my place before the entirety of the household.”
“I’ll never embarrass you, Walter, not intentionally. But do know this is my decision to make. Only mine.”
Having properly scolded him, she softened her words by slipping her own foot free of its confines to caress his other leg. Though it might have been the wind, she thought she heard a sharp intake of breath.
“We’ve learned a valuable lesson this evening,” Sebastian said as the carriage came to a halt in front of the cottage’s walled garden. “While the doors may bar against you if your illegitimacy were publicly known, acting the legitimate Lady Lilith will incur its own censure. It would seem, dear sister, that you’re ridiculed if you do and condemned if you don’t. What is your weapon of choice, should you choose to accept this challenge?”
Wedging her foot back into its shoe while a groom set down the steps and opened the carriage door, she considered his question.
“Oh, dear brother, you underestimate my cunning. I shall remain unarmed and watch them fall on their own swords.”
Chapter 16
The following day, Lilith met Sebastian at the inn for tea. Walter joined them only long enough to escort Lilith to the first house on her rounds.
As delightful as it was to be courted, she could not help wondering if he was hurting his reputation by doing so, to the point of being a laughingstock. Not that many of those living in and around Allshire would gossip with his peers about who he was courting, but word would travel. It would not do well for his reputation to court a spinster who grew up in an orphanage, regardless who her father might have been. Lest she forget, she had agreed to this.
If they married, how much worse would the censure be for him?
The next day, she taught at the orphanage, her favorite day since she was able to teach mathematics rather than one of the fluffy subjects. After a fulfilling day with the children, she headed home for an afternoon free of commitment. This was not a day of rounds.
As she approached the walled terrace of her cottage, she noticed the gate stood ajar. Oh, abomination! Harry would be waiting for her. She braced herself to see him pacing in front of her door armed with a remark about coincidences.
It has been a relief not to face him alone the past few days. At least telling him of Walter’s courtship had not been a terrible mistake. She had not expected Walter to be so public about the courtship. For some reason, she had expected him to do it privately, and so admitting to the rector that the baron was coming to pay court had seemed reckless.
Now that Harry knew, and now that Walter had arrived, as well as her brother, how would the rector behave? Would he try to sabotage Walter’s suit? Would he find a way to convince Sebastian he was the better suitor in hopes her brother might have a hand in who she married?
She suspected she knew his approach. He would try to convince her that Walter’s intentions were not honorable, that the baron’s goal would be to set her up as his mistress.
She had a giggle thinking of the cottage by the sea Walter might soon own. It would be devilishly naughty of Lilith to tell the rector about the cottage and that she was considering Walter as a protector rather than a betrothed. Of course, she would never say such things. All the same, it gave her a giggle to think of his reactions if she did. It would serve him right.
For shame, Lilith, she scolded herself.
With a malevolent grin, she opened the gate.
Only, it was not Mr. Harry Sands who stood at her door. In fact, no one stood at her door. A pair of black boots and buff buckskins that framed a shapely derrière peeked out from one of the raised beds of her herb garden. The body that went with them was nowhere in sight, buried between greenery and bent over the soil. An abandoned coat and waistcoat rested on the opposite planter.
Not one to take such occasions for granted, she appreciated the sight. Savoring the vision of slender but muscled thighs and admiring the bottom that went with them, she watched him dig about in the dirt as though searching for Atlantis.
Fanning her face ineffectively with her bonnet, she approached.
“Drop your signet ring?” she asked.
Walter sat up so fast he tipped backwards and had to brace himself.
“Don’t you know it’s impolite to startle someone?” He was all smiles under his tricorn.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Have you not heard? Orphans aren’t raised with toffish manners,” she teased.
“Good thing I’m here,” he said. “I can teach you to behave yourself.”
He stood, brushing dirt off his buckskins, a hopeless effort, as the breeches were obviously soiled, a matching patch of mud circling each knee. When he straightened and looked at her, she forgot to breathe. There he was, all tall, masculine man, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple and into a sideburn.
Lilith was at a loss for words. All she could think was how desperately she wanted to kiss this man.
“I see I’ve dumbfounded you, Lilith. An unusual sight, I know, to find a baron gardening, and not just any baron, but your own Lord Collingwood. Well, admire my handiwork. Tell me if there’s a future for me in horticulture.” He waved a hand to her garden bed.
There were at least two dozen spots with freshly turned soil, all neatly wedged between her herbs.
When she did not immediately respond, Walter said, “Mr. Turnbow said September is the best time to plant the bulbs. If I’ve not botched it, they should flower in the spring.”
With a sigh, Lilith looked from her bed back to Walter. “You planted bulbs, you say. Flowering bulbs?”
“Yes, indeed. He was kind enough to advise that these were the easiest to plant and grow, so no need for a green thumb. There might be hope for me yet. I was supposed to plant them with the pointy end up, wasn’t I?”
Lilith could do nothing but laugh. Only once she started, she could not stop. She laughed harder and harder still, bowling over with a hand to her side. By the time she could control the fit of hilarity, she had to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes.
“Oh, Walter. I’m not sure if I should kiss you or scold you.”
He frowned. “Good God. Choose the former, and I’ll plant a dozen more.”
She shook her head. “You do realize this is an herb garden?”
He stared, his expression blank.
“Ah, well. Mr. Turnbow has been trying to get bulbs into my herbs for years. Cheeky monkey.”
“Show me,” Walter said, kneeling and smoothing his hands over the soil he had overturned.
There was nothing to do but join him. It was not as though she needed to change, for her dresses were utilitarian, at least for her needs, which included gardening. Kneeli
ng beside him, her knees sinking into the cool softness of the earth, she touched her hand to a tall, green stalk with purplish flowers.
“This is motherwort. It’s used during the recovery time after birth. Once this clump finishes flowering, I’ll harvest and dry it. And this,” she reached for a stalk with yellow flowers, “is yarrow. I use it during the birthing as a handwash and cleanser. There’s approximately thirty different herbs in the garden, most versatile.”
“I don’t suppose tulips and snowdrops count as herbs?”
Smiling, she said, “Not quite. I grow herbs for my midwifery. With the herbs, I can take leaves or blooms or stalks, depending on the plant, and infuse them with tea, sustenance, or warm water. They’re medicinal, not ornamental, though quite a few do flower, as you can see.”
Walter’s face was so crestfallen, she covered his dirt-coated hand with her own. “Tulips and snowdrops will be a lovely addition to my herbal bed. I couldn’t have asked for a greater gift.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, long enough for her to realize their thighs were touching. She sucked in a breath. How could it be so hot at the beginning of autumn? She could feel herself sweat, though she knew it was not from the weather, which offered a crisp breeze despite the bright sun.
If she looked any longer into his fathomless green eyes, she would fall into their depths.
And then she heard a muffled cry.
Looking about the garden, she tried to focus on the sound. It continued, a muted cry, not unlike a hungry baby, but not a baby. She could not explain the sound. A whimper? Lilith furrowed her brows and looked at Walter. He shrugged, though he looked around, as well, obviously hearing the same sound as she. Rising to her feet, she tracked the noise.
“Good heavens,” she said, “it’s coming from my cottage. You hear it, too? I’m not going mad?”
She glanced over her shoulder. He nodded, looking perplexed, a hand sweeping through his curls, his discarded coat and waistcoat slung over the arm holding his tricorn. A hand to her breast, braced for whatever banshee hid in her cottage, she opened the stable door.
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