A Stolen Kiss (Victorian Love Book 1)

by M. A. Nichols

  Looking at the mingling masses, Lily smiled, though her cheeks flushed crimson. “It did come together quite nicely.”

  “No modesty,” said her aunt, tapping Lily’s arm with her fan. “After such a rousing success, you are permitted to be ecstatic.”

  Someone caught Uncle Nicholas’s eye, and he nodded in their direction. “If you will please excuse us, I need to speak with the Hamptons.”

  “Of course,” said Lily. There was still plenty to be done before her part would be over for the evening.

  “Come and find us when you are ready to return home,” said Aunt Louisa-Margaretta, reaching forward to give Lily another embrace. “Truly, you were incredible tonight. Simply divine! I am positively jealous of your talent.”

  Lily’s voice failed at that moment, so she nodded as the pair wandered off to greet their various friends before turning to escape. But it was not to be.

  “Miss Kingsley,” said Mr. DeVere with a deep bow. “You were a delight.”

  *

  Boldness and Jack Hatcher went hand in hand. Even as a child, Jack had known his mind and acted without fear, and years at sea and navigating the waters of commerce had honed that strength of spirit. If one were to poll his acquaintances, Jack would wager that not a single one would think him capable of nerves.

  Uncertainty and fear were dangerous things, for they led to rash decisions and risky gambles; the ruination of many an investor was due to such fickle feelings, and Jack never allowed them a place in his heart. Yet, Jack was plagued by both as DeVere arrived at Lily’s side before him. Even worse was Lily’s blush and smile as the fellow greeted her.

  DeVere simpered and preened. “You put the others to shame, for none could match your performance.”

  “Mr. DeVere, do you ever run out of honeyed words?” asked Lily. Though her smile was tinged by chagrin, she beamed at the fellow.

  Jack’s gaze dropped to DeVere’s hand, which held Lily’s.

  Leaning in closer, the fellow said, “Not when I speak the truth.”

  Coming to Lily’s side, Jack reached for the hand that DeVere had commandeered and threaded it through his arm. Rather than looking disheartened or put-out, DeVere’s eyes gleamed, the corner of his mouth curling in mockery; Jack’s brows furrowed as he stared at it.

  “What did you think of our Miss Kingsley’s performance?” asked DeVere.

  Jack’s eye twitched at his flagrant use of “our,” and he glared at the impertinent fellow. But then, he realized there was a question to answer. Both Lily and DeVere watched him, awaiting his response, and though Jack did not care two jots about DeVere’s raised eyebrows, he was puzzled to see Lily sporting an equally quizzical expression. Jack’s forehead furrowed as he met her gaze.

  Joy blossomed in his chest as he recalled those special moments; he’d never felt such radiant peace and happiness as he had when she’d stood so proudly before the crowd, her voice ringing through the air like a heavenly choir. Something had shifted between them. Jack didn’t understand the link binding their hearts, but he’d felt it there like a third heartbeat connecting his to hers. Surely, she had felt it, too. And if so, how could she wonder if he’d enjoyed her performance?

  Lily watched him, her smile seeping away as the silence drew out. Her eyes pleaded for him to say something, but Jack’s mind failed him. No words could describe what he’d felt.

  “It was enjoyable.” And it was the only part that was, in Jack’s humble opinion.

  But when Lily’s expression fell and DeVere’s eyes widened, one would have thought he had impugned her honor with those three little words. Then DeVere’s expression shifted perilously close to pity, but that fellow’s feelings were of no consequence—not when Lily’s eyes dimmed.

  It appeared that his words were not enough, but as he did not have any more to offer, Jack scoured his mind for some borrowed ones.

  “You were the highlight of the evening,” he added, stealing a compliment he’d heard Silas use on many an occasion with his wife. But rather than grinning and blushing as Lily had done for DeVere, she gave Jack a weak approximation of a smile, her eyes averted.

  *

  Hatch did not deserve sympathy, but Colin felt decidedly sorry for the fellow. Of course, the problem was of his own making. If Hatch could not manage even the simplest of compliments, he deserved every awkward, uncomfortable moment as he fumbled about to repair the damage he’d done.

  Unfortunately, as much as Hatch may deserve it, Miss Kingsley did not.

  Righteous anger burbled in Colin’s chest, giving him a sense of triumph as it burned through him. Miss Kingsley was a fine lady and did not need to spend her life bound to such a man, and Colin was determined to make her see that. And frankly, Hatch was doing most of the work for him. The fellow did not have a modicum of sense when it came to ladies. He may be a commander in commerce, but he was a child when it came to courtship.

  Miss Kingsley looked no more pleased with Hatch’s half-hearted compliments than Colin, and the lady had the good sense to show it. Too many would overlook a multitude of sins in the hopes of becoming Mrs. Jonathan Hatcher.

  But as Colin glanced between the pair, he caught sight of reddish curls, and his gaze shot towards them to catch a pair of hazel eyes watching them. Across the ballroom, Miss Aubrey stood with a rigid spine, her hands clasped before her, and though she held onto her composure and maintained an impassive expression, those lovely eyes of hers shone with tears and pain.

  “Please excuse me,” he mumbled, stumbling away from his companions. Turning away from him, Miss Aubrey spoke a few hurried words to the matron beside her, and the pair made their way to the exit.

  Others called greetings to him, but Colin uttered passing remarks without stopping. Weaving through the crowd, his eyes held onto Miss Aubrey as she fled from him. Confound the others! Colin tried to move faster, but there were too many between him and her, and he could not shout for her to wait—for all the good it would do.

  In a flutter of silk, she was out the door and into a waiting coach before Colin could catch her, leaving him on the sidewalk alone. His strength abandoned him as he stood with weak and shaky legs, his heart thumping in his chest as though he had run a great distance and not the length of a ballroom.

  It was just a misunderstanding. That was all. In their precarious situation, they both had been forced to flirt and smile at others, and though it rankled, it was their unfortunate reality until they were allowed to court openly. But as Colin retrieved his overcoat and hat, the betrayal in her expression haunted him. No other lady could ever have a hold on his heart as she did, and surely Miss Aubrey knew that.

  There was no question of his returning to Miss Kingsley’s side; he had done enough on that front, and he needed to find Miss Aubrey. She would understand. She had to.

  Chapter 19

  The speed with which Mr. DeVere departed left Lily staring after him, blinking at the sudden shift. Something was the matter, but several days of frantic work culminating in this evening’s performance left Lily’s wits addled. It was more than mere exhaustion, for this would not be cured with a simple nap. She was desperate for solitude and rest from the cares weighing her down.

  And from the gentleman silently holding her arm in his.

  “Miss Kingsley.” Those two words sent a jolt through Lily. Placing a hand on her stomach, as though that could somehow loosen the knot cinched around it, she took a breath. Giving herself a brief second to steel her nerves, Lily turned to face the lady and gentleman at her back.

  “Mrs. Dosset,” she said, hardly tripping over Phyllis’s married name.

  Lily released Jack’s arm and dipped to give the appropriate curtsy, but before she could take hold of him again, Phyllis snatched Lily’s hands in hers, squeezing them with a sickly-sweet smile.

  “How wonderful to see you, Miss Kingsley,” said Phyllis. “It has been an age.”

  “Yes,” replied Lily, as that seemed the only response.

  “And ho
w is your dear brother?” she asked with an arched brow.

  Lily tensed. “Oliver is in the country at present, awaiting the arrival of his second child.”

  The lady’s smile tightened, her dark eyes hard and cold as flint. Lily tugged at her hands, but Phyllis did not let them go until she was ready to do so.

  “Your dress is so daring,” said Phyllis. “I am always too worried about others’ opinions to take such risks, but you just wear whatever you please. It’s so refreshing.”

  Glancing at her brocade gown, Lily did not miss Phyllis’s insult, though she could not fathom what about the dress invited ridicule. The neckline was unusually high, coming to her throat rather than darting low as most did, and the style was simple to be sure, but that was part of the charm; it allowed the gorgeous fabric to shine. The base was a vibrant navy blue silk with a pattern of black flowers woven through it that only deepened the color further. It was rich and luxurious looking, and certainly not wholly unusual, though many of the others preferred lighter shades.

  Of course, Phyllis’s smiling insults did not need to be based in reality, for they found their mark more often than not. Lily knew she should give no consequence to the lady’s spiteful words, but they gave voice to her hidden fears, finding her most vulnerable parts and exploiting them.

  Phyllis took her husband’s arm once more. “And how wonderful to see you perform! The organizers are so generous to allow you to add your little contribution to tonight’s festivities.”

  But there, Lily felt a swell of pride. Whatever else Phyllis may find fault with, Lily had done much to bring this evening’s event together, and it had been a rousing success.

  “I assisted in organizing the concert—”

  Phyllis took in a sharp breath and nodded. “Of course. That makes perfect sense then. One of the advantages of setting the program, I imagine.” She gave a tinkling laugh that set Lily’s nerves on edge. She leaned in, as though to whisper to Lily. “And you mustn’t listen to what anyone else says. You performed beautifully tonight.”

  Lily’s teeth clenched together, and she sorted through her thoughts, trying to find some response. The only options that came to mind were banal and insipid and would do more to play in Phyllis’s favor than defend against her subtle jabs. But what could she say? What defense could she mount against words that spoke to her deepest fears?

  Standing center stage, Lily had felt confident, but as the glow of the performance faded, she was left wondering if she was simply puffing up her vanity and blind to the reality that her songs had been middling. Others had complimented her, but there were plenty of times when people gave kind but untruthful words in such moments.

  Even Jack had said the performance was only “enjoyable.” Such tepid words did not speak of a heart touched by her contribution to the evening.

  Ridiculous tears began to prick at her eyes, and Lily attempted to bat them away, but she had not the emotional strength at present to withstand the pull of despair; she was worn too thin to do anything more than simply feel the pain Phyllis inflicted with each syllable.

  However, that did not mean Lily must stand there and subject herself to this torment.

  “Please excuse me,” said Lily, fighting to keep the emotion from warbling her voice. “I still have much to do tonight.”

  Jack reached for her elbow, but Lily pulled it out of reach and with what little reserve she had remaining, she walked away from the ballroom.

  *

  That fool, Mrs. Dosset, did not have the good sense to cower, but her husband proved himself to be of greater intelligence, for he was shuffling uncomfortably under the glower Jack fixed on him. Jack had no talent for subtlety, nor did he see a point in developing it. While Silas was gifted in gently nudging others along, Jack preferred a more direct approach, and it rarely failed him.

  But that did not mean he was oblivious to nuance.

  Mrs. Dosset’s attacks were finely crafted—enough so that Jack had not recognized them at first. But they found their marks. Lily had grown more brittle with each one, and before Jack could do a thing about it, she’d given a half-hearted excuse and fled. His heart burned in his chest, begging him to strike down her attacker, but now was not the time to deal with Mrs. Dosset. Lily was in pain, and though Jack knew not how to heal her, he could not allow her to skulk away and lick her wounds alone.

  With a final look at Mr. Dosset that promised they would speak again, Jack followed after Lily. Of course, at the pace she moved, she was across the ballroom and out the door faster than Jack could follow. Various fools tried to stop him for a chat, but he brushed past them, getting to the door moments after her.

  The sounds of her shoes in the hallway drew him along, and Jack found Lily in the adjacent music room, busying herself with tidying sheet music.

  “We were practicing in here before the concert,” she said, straightening the growing stack of papers in her hands. “Mrs. Ollerton was so kind as to host the evening, and I would hate to leave the room in such a state.”

  “Lily?”

  But the lady rambled on. “This is such a beautiful room, but hardly large enough to host a proper concert. Luckily, their ballroom was close enough that moving the piano was not difficult.”

  Coming to stand just behind her, Jack brushed a hand against her arm, but she did not turn. Lily reached for more sheets, tucking them into her stack and straightening them with jerky movements.

  “Lily,” he whispered.

  “There is still so much to do,” she replied, keeping her back to him. But her voice gave the faintest break.

  Gently, Jack took hold of her arms. He wished that he was not wearing gloves so he could feel her soft skin. His thumbs caressed her, and he stood there, waiting for her to face him. Clutching the music to her chest, Lily glanced at him over her shoulder; tears clung to her lashes, and her brown eyes were circled in red. She dropped the sheets onto a nearby chair and ducked her face away from him, pulling free of his grasp to wipe at her face.

  “It’s silly, I know,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t care one jot about what Phyllis Dosset thinks of me. It means nothing, and I should not countenance it. I’m certain you think me weak to be so disturbed by a few words, but I cannot help myself. Mrs. Dosset and I were friends once upon a time, and she knows precisely how to wound me.”

  “You are putting words in my mouth,” said Jack.

  Lily gave a huff. “Are you claiming that the mighty Jack Hatcher does not think it excessively weak to be moved to tears over a few simple words?”

  Coming to stand before her, Jack forced her to look at him. “I know the power of words, Lily, and only a fool would discount their ability to bruise as easily as any blow. I do not think it silly or weak for you to be hurt when she clearly meant to do so.”

  Chin trembling, Lily gave a watery smile. “Everyone tells me to be stronger, and I do try. I wish there were some way to turn off my heart at times—harden it so that such things do not bother me—but I cannot seem to do it.”

  “Harden your heart?” Just the thought of that had Jack’s seizing in his chest. Lily continued to mumble more ridiculous notions about needing to be stronger. Once his heart started to beat again, it came in a thundering tempo, outpacing Lily’s flow of syllables.

  Staring at the magnificent woman before him, Jack could not think of anything stronger than someone willing to feel so deeply, even while the world assailed their heart. Merely the thought of her turning off that most beautiful part of her had adrenaline coursing through him, begging him to do something to stop such a thing from happening. Lily’s heart made her beloved and special, and Jack could not stand the thought of her tamping it and closing herself off from the world.

  It was then that Jack had the most startling revelation: he could not stand the thought of her becoming like him. The world had beaten him down from a young age, and he’d done what he needed to survive, but that would not be Lily’s future. He would not allow it.

  “No,” he
blurted, and Lily paused, blinking at him. Jack opened his mouth, but words were not his friend. No matter how he thought about how to explain it to her, Jack could not settle on the right descriptors. He hardly understood his thoughts and feelings and thus, explaining it was impossible.

  Standing there with wary eyes, Lily watched him as though he had taken leave of his sense, and perhaps he had. With quick steps, Jack drew close and pulled Lily into his arms, capturing her lips in a kiss.

  *

  Eyes wide, Lily had but a brief moment to be startled at the sudden turn of events before Jack’s kiss upended all rational thought. There was a fire in his touch, burning through him and igniting her heart. He enveloped her in his arms, crushing her to his chest, and Lily clung to him. After the heartbreak of moments ago, she reveled in the desperate need emanating from him. It was overwhelming and confusing, but Lily lost herself in it, refusing to allow herself to think about the motives behind this kiss.

  That cord wound tightly around her, pulling her heart closer to his with that same invisible strength she’d felt before. Just as the power of it threatened to overwhelm her, the kiss slowed. Jack’s breaths came in heaving pants, matching her own, and he took her face in his hands, turning her gaze to his.

  “Do not close off your heart.” The words were hard and unyielding, and his tone brooked no refusal. Where such dictates would normally spur her to anger, the kiss had left her light-headed and unable to do anything else but nod.

  The angry lines of his face softened, and Jack’s thumb caressed her cheek as he stared at her lips.

  “Lily…”

  Her name drifted off into silence and when he finally closed the distance, his touch was gentle. Lily had not thought such a hard man could be capable of such affection, but where the other kiss was a veritable conquering, this was a plea. Where the other consumed and burned, this had her heart filling with longing and tenderness.