A Stolen Kiss (Victorian Love Book 1)

by M. A. Nichols

“I did not think you were listening.”

  Brows knit together, Jack stared at her. Her conversation was delightful, and he had no idea why she kept assuming he had not enjoyed it.

  Lily reached for the basket and took it from him. “Westminster it is.”

  Unable to do anything else, Jack watched as she hurried through the front door and shut it behind her. Standing there like a confounded statue, he found himself wishing he had some excuse to follow her inside. Instead, he was left alone on the doorstep.

  *

  Dropping the basket to the side, Lily ignored the startled look from the footman and hurried through to the parlor. Cautiously, she stole close to the window, peeking around the curtain to see if Jack stood there.

  He turned and walked away, leaving Lily uncertain what her heart was telling her. Truth be told, she was no closer to understanding the gentleman than she had been that morning, but there was something about him that drew her in. Not that she had any interest in marrying a fellow who only looked to “make the best” of their impending nuptials, but there were moments when she sensed something greater lurking beneath that hard surface of his.

  If only she had some insight into the thoughts running through his head.

  “For you, I am never too busy…”

  Why did he go and say such wonderful things with such conviction? It was so much easier for her to dismiss Jack as a curmudgeon not worth bothering herself over, but then there were those little moments that gave her the strangest flutter of hope and anticipation.

  Stepping from the window, Lily shook her head at herself and took off her bonnet, gloves, and coat and handed them to the footman who waited at the doorway.

  It was ridiculous for her to dream of some grand romantic heart beating in that man’s chest. She was a duty to him, nothing more. For her part, Lily was simply pleased to find that the afternoon had not proved a disaster. She and Jack could converse quite pleasantly and spend a few amicable hours in each other’s company.

  Lily walked through the hallway, taking the stairs to her bedchamber. She was no closer to accepting this ludicrous engagement, but at least it wouldn’t prove a burden to pretend for the next few weeks. Jack was a pleasant enough fellow, and Lily would not mind knowing him better.

  Chapter 16

  Clasping her hands, Lily counted the days until her parents arrived home. A month and a half was not long and having a set date of termination for this torment made it bearable. But still, having to endure six weeks trapped in parlors stuffed to the brim with callers was not for the faint of heart.

  Others may not describe Aunt Louisa-Margaretta’s parlor so, as guests were not bumping into each other at every turn, but to Lily, it felt like a crush. The sofas and armchairs were occupied, and others stood, grouped together as her aunt traveled between them. It was not a raucous crowd, but that ever-present buzz of conversation made Lily feel as though trapped in a beehive.

  In the abstract, a busy social calendar had sounded intriguing, but as the Season wore on, Lily’s nerves were wearing thin. She was never free from noise and movement, and even when she managed to get a decent night’s rest (which was not often) any respite she’d found vanished the moment she waded back into the tumult.

  Mama was not one for crowds. Though she had friends aplenty, Mrs. Mina Kingsley did not stuff her social calendar full, and Lily was more like that dear lady than Aunt Louisa-Margaretta. Lily hadn’t thought it possible to fit so many people into a parlor; she doubted the lady ever turned away a caller or desired a moment of solitude.

  Luckily for Lily, the horde ignored her and left her to the privacy of her own thoughts. What would Jack think of such a crowd? She grinned at that foolish question. A fortnight ago, Lily couldn’t have imagined longing for his silent presence, but he was the calm in the social storm. In moments such as these, a mute companion was a blessing.

  “I hope that smile is for me.”

  Lily gave a start and turned to see Mr. DeVere standing beside her with that lazy grin of his. With that small act, he elicited a burning blush from her, and though she was long past the age of the tittering debutante, Lily had the strangest urge to giggle whenever he was about.

  Leaning closer, Mr. DeVere glanced around before whispering to her. “Why are you standing in the corner?”

  “It is much safer than venturing into the fray,” she replied. “I did not hear you announced.”

  “I gathered as much, though I doubt anyone could hear a thing in this noise.” Mr. DeVere surveyed the packed room. “I have visited many a crowded parlor before, but this is impressive.”

  Lily’s smile brightened. “Yes, my aunt adores company.”

  “And you prefer to hide?”

  “You make it sound so terrible, Mr. DeVere,” she replied with a shake of her head. “With a stature such as mine, any opportunity to be overlooked is a welcome one.”

  The gentleman’s brows drew together. “I wish you would not speak of yourself in such a manner. You do yourself no credit by being so—”

  “Honest?”

  Mr. DeVere narrowed his gaze and said, “Unkind.”

  Lily turned her gaze to the room at large. Arguing the point would do no good, but neither would she concede.

  “I see you will not listen to me,” said Mr. DeVere with a huff of mock indignation.

  Eyes sparkling, Lily glanced at the gentleman. “Those with beauty believe they understand the plight of the unattractive, but I assure you it is not easy to be on constant display for all the wrong reasons. To always look obtrusive and out of place. To be judged for something that is beyond my control.”

  Moving to stand before her, Mr. DeVere gave her a look that was all too serious for the jovial fellow. “I don’t know who has filled your head with such ridiculous sentiments, but you should know that I find you remarkable, Miss Kingsley. And you have quite possibly the finest eyes I have ever seen.”

  Lily ducked her face, as though that might keep anyone from seeing the blazing red of her skin. The pair stood there for several quiet moments. Lily did not know what Mr. DeVere was thinking, but she could not bring herself to glance up and read his expression.

  For her part, she struggled between preening and scowling at the absolute flim-flam Mr. DeVere was spouting—and herself for being affected by it. Even if the fellow was earnest in his attentions (though Lily remained uncertain on that front), his compliments were too effusive and too ridiculous for her to believe them, even if her treacherous heart reveled in each one. No matter how she tried, Lily couldn’t keep her pulse from speeding or her face from heating whenever he was near.

  Finally, Mr. DeVere cleared his throat and returned to his place beside her. “I called to tell you that I quite enjoyed the Winston’s card party last night. You are a formidable partner.”

  With a laugh, Lily glanced at the fellow from the corner of her eye. “I’m afraid that Mr. Crosby and Miss Livingston expected an easy victory, and they may never forgive us for slaughtering them.”

  “You are a bloodthirsty opponent,” said Mr. DeVere, his smile growing. “Remind me never to play against you.”

  From there the conversation shifted and flowed to their usual topics. Though Lily could not remember having seen Mr. DeVere before the Walker’s ball, she kept stumbling upon him at parties, morning visits, or strolls through the park; not a day passed without some moment spent in his company.

  Not that she was unhappy about that development. Mr. DeVere was lively in conversation but never dominated. He gave her his full attention and looked as eager for her opinions as she did his. And though he was fond of outrageous compliments, Lily couldn’t say she minded it, for Mr. DeVere made her feel wanted and appreciated. Cherished, even.

  Lily knew better than to trust his words—no matter how earnest he claimed to be—but that did not mean she could not enjoy them. A handsome man called her lovely. Engaging. A catch. There was power in hearing such words, and they fed into the fantasy she’d dreamt of living.
That Lily Kingsley stood beside her handsome, gregarious, and so very attentive beau, who loved her unabashedly.

  How she longed for it to be real. That lonely part of her soul cried out for it, desperate to capture that fairy tale and drag it into reality.

  Instead, she was bound to Jack.

  At times, he said the most heartwarming things. Lily caught glimpses of something in his gaze that made her heart race. But he inevitably said or did something to break the spell. Lily supposed it was for the best; sweeping Jack into her flights of fancies would only lead to heartbreak.

  Their outings together were enjoyable, and the more she came to know Jack, the more she liked him, but that was a far cry from being loved as a lady ought to be. She could no more imagine Jack becoming the swain of her dreams than she could imagine Mr. DeVere’s motives to be wholly honest.

  “I fear I have stayed too long,” said Mr. DeVere.

  “It has hardly been five minutes,” said Lily.

  He gave a pained smile. “I know, and it is abominable of me to abandon you to this ravenous crowd, but I have a previous engagement I must attend to. I shouldn’t have come at all, but I couldn’t bear to miss the opportunity to see you again.”

  Lily’s cheeks flushed red, and she gave an impatient huff. “You are too charming for my good, Mr. DeVere.”

  “Never,” he said with a rascally grin and a parting bow.

  Watching him leave, Lily shook her head at herself. It was so silly. He was little more than a boy and far too pretty for her tastes, yet she anticipated each of his visits.

  Aunt Louisa-Margaretta waved to her, calling Lily to her side. With a sigh, she prepared herself for whatever quagmire of gossip her aunt had fallen into. Lily knew that pinched expression on her aunt’s face far too well to assume it was anything but anxiety over some bit of tittle-tattle.

  “My dear Lily,” she said, pulling her niece aside. “Where in the world did you meet Mr. DeVere? I did not realize you were acquainted.”

  “We met at the Walker’s ball last week.”

  There was a disapproving harrumph behind her, and Lily cast a glance to see Mrs. Bingham standing just to the side.

  “That boy is going to break your heart, Miss Kingsley,” said Mrs. Bingham with a disapproving sniff.

  Aunt Louisa-Margaretta gave Mrs. Bingham a stern shake of her head. “Nonsense. She is engaged to Mr. Jonathan Hatcher.”

  Mrs. Bingham raised her thin eyebrows. “And yet, she’s been spied in Mr. DeVere’s company nearly as often as Mr. Hatcher.”

  Turning her gaze to Lily, there was a touch of something that looked like sympathy, though it felt far more like that dreaded pity Jack despised. “You must guard yourself, Miss Kingsley. Mr. DeVere and Mr. Hatcher have a history together, and I have it on good authority that Mr. DeVere is keen to avenge himself of some wrongdoing on Mr. Hatcher’s part. I fear he is toying with you to annoy his adversary. And Mr. Hatcher is such a competitive, driven fellow that he will not forfeit the challenge Mr. DeVere is posing. If you are not careful, you will find yourself in great trouble.”

  “That is not possible,” said her aunt.

  “It makes perfect sense, Mrs. Ashbrook. Why else would a lady like your niece attract such attention if not for some ulterior motive?”

  Aunt Louisa-Margaretta straightened, her normally bright features pinching together as she scowled with a ferocity that would put Jack to shame—even if she looked more like an angry lapdog than a slathering beast.

  “And why should she not?” barked her aunt.

  Mrs. Bingham’s eyes widened, and she began to speak, but Aunt Louisa-Margaretta would have none of it.

  “You stand there, speaking as though it were impossible that two gentlemen would show an interest in my niece, but why shouldn’t they? She is an incredible lady who would make any man a fine wife!” she exclaimed with a swipe of her hand as though she were batting away the foul words Mrs. Bingham had spoken. “If other gentlemen are too foolish to realize what a gem she is, that is a reflection on them and not her. And I will not stand silent and listen to you cast aspersions against her.”

  Weaving Lily’s arm through hers, Aunt Louisa-Margaretta clung to it, and Lily was grateful that she was not called upon to speak, for she could not manage a single word at present.

  Mrs. Bingham blinked at the pair, and it was then that Lily noticed how quiet the room had become. She could not bear to look around and see all the people witnessing the exchange—nor did she need to, for she felt their eyes on her.

  “I didn't mean to offend,” said Mrs. Bingham, but Aunt Louisa-Margaretta’s eyes narrowed.

  “That is precisely what you meant to do, and I have no wish to be party to such maliciousness.”

  Mrs. Bingham gave an ungainly gape at that. “Truly, it was not intentional. I had not thought—”

  Aunt Louisa-Margaretta’s brows rose. “—that I would be bothered by your words? Or that I wouldn’t disagree with them? I think it best that you leave immediately.”

  That blustery lady’s expression held none of its earlier haughtiness. With a sketch of a curtsy, she turned and hurried from the parlor with everyone watching her. Aunt Louisa-Margaretta sent the others a look that had them returning to their conversations, and she pulled Lily close, patting her arm.

  “Mrs. Bingham is a bitter harpy, and you mustn’t let her words cause you one moment of pain. They mean nothing.”

  Her aunt’s eyes were so earnest and her tone so impassioned that Lily could not bring herself to argue. Pasting on a smile, she gave Aunt Louisa-Margaretta a reassuring nod. “Simply ignore them” was a common refrain in her life, but if it were easily done, Lily would not need the advice repeated so often.

  “Might I be excused?” whispered Lily.

  “Darling, please give no weight to what she said.” Her aunt clasped Lily’s hands before patting her niece’s cheek. “You are a treasure.”

  “Thank you,” was all she could say at the moment as her heart constricted in her chest. “But I would like a few moments to collect myself.”

  “Of course,” said Aunt Louisa-Margaretta with another supportive smile before Lily was allowed to make her escape.

  Lily did not allow herself to run to her room. Or even jog. Her chin was trembling before she’d even left the parlor, but she would not allow herself to sprint for the shadows like the coward she was. But she did move at a clipped pace as she took the stairs to her bedchamber and shut the door behind her.

  Not caring how her skirts and petticoats crumpled, Lily dropped onto her bed and stared at the wall opposite.

  This was not the first time Lily had faced such cruelty, yet it made her heart feel like a leaden lump in her chest. She had accepted that she was invisible to most, but it was another thing altogether to immunize herself against such blatant criticism. Lily wished she understood the motivations behind it or why she inspired such animosity. What was it about her that prompted others to put her in her place? Lily could not think of another who was a more consistent target of such spiteful sentiments.

  But as Lily thought about Mrs. Bingham’s vitriol and all the rest she’d received over the course of her life, Jack’s words came to mind. He’d spoken them with no expectation that she would take them so personally, but Lily returned to them repeatedly.

  “I am not the villain you paint me to be.”

  He had been correct. Lily could admit that much. She’d assumed the worst of him and taken offense at the slightest provocation. But how could she do otherwise when experience had taught her to expect malicious intent?

  Sitting there, Lily stared vacantly at the wall opposite her bed, her eyes not seeing the light blue flowers adorning the wallpaper, and she wondered what Jack would think of her caving under a few pitiful words and hiding in her room like a child. Though he did not speak of it, Lily knew his time at sea had been painful, and he had borne it.

  But how could she protect her heart from such attacks? Not that Lily cared about Mrs.
Bingham’s opinions, but the lady gave voice to the dark, awful thoughts that plagued Lily’s mind, and they took shape and grew, taking firmer hold of her life. How could she dismiss them as mere insecurities when others told her in no uncertain terms that they were valid?

  Lily had known Mr. DeVere’s words were too smooth and insincere; hearing Mrs. Bingham confirm it should not have bothered Lily, but the lady had crushed the tiny hope that wanted Mr. DeVere’s feelings to be true. Lily was a fool, doomed to desire things never meant to be; hope can help one weather the greatest storms, but false hope was nothing more than a stone around one’s neck, dragging its victim beneath the raging waves.

  No, Lily had not harbored a serious tendre for Mr. DeVere, but knowing she was merely a pawn to him cracked her already fragile ego.

  And Jack.

  It was still odd to think of Mr. Hatcher as Jack, but the name did fit him quite nicely. Though he was stiff and distant, Jonathan sounded too formal. Jack was a name without pretension—exactly like the man himself.

  Lily gripped the bedclothes, her fingers pulling on the linens as her eyes unfocused and her mind played through her memories. Since their truce, they’d spent many afternoons exploring the city together. Jack had experienced so little of the city and introducing him to her favorite had become the highlight of her days.

  Though Jack was neither eloquent nor effusive, his company was enjoyable. He was such an interesting fellow, and though few, his words held great value for they were enlightening and well thought out. And no matter how much she chattered away, he genuinely seemed interested in what she had to say. Jack simply watched her as she rambled on, his attention never wavering. There was a weight to it, as though his every thought was focused on the conversation—whether or not he was adding to it.

  Jack Hatcher intrigued her. At times, she swore that there was more to his behavior than duty. Those eyes of his whispered that something was stirring in his heart. But then Jack would say something ridiculous and obtuse, and the spell cast over Lily would break, leaving her with a man that was far more frog than prince.