by Heather Boyd
Giles was a very physical man, and not just in bed. He was always moving. Lilly could make love to him, produce his heir, but the thought of childbirth—even of carrying the child—gave her a great fear. She had a memory of someone once saying she would not be woman enough to produce a child. She rather thought they might be right. She had never bled before and her courses had only just arrived.
Since Giles refused to elaborate on his interview with her papa yesterday, Lilly wasn’t happy with him. He’d made light of the conversation and informed her he had sent for a dressmaker to come from London to outfit her. She had shaken her head at his evasion, frustrated at not knowing what had distracted him so at dinner.
Her years of blundering in the dark had to be over. Now that she could think clearly, she wanted to know what was happening around her. Giles had deviously avoided her questions by attending to her hurts.
Without him, her life would still be shrouded in misery. But now she knew she could plan for the future. She could not imagine having another man’s hands on her skin. But she thought she could bear the touch of a woman.
She could engage the services of a female companion and teach her what to do for her pains. She doubted Giles would agree to teach the companion himself, especially when she refused to marry him.
As she rounded the pond, she remembered the small stone bench on a side path. If she did not sit for too long, she would not grow chilled through enough to stiffen up again. She would not need Giles. She was determined to get along as best she could without him. Matters had already gone too far.
As she neared the bench, a grey shape resolved into her papa’s form. He was sitting forward with his hands on his knees, staring down at the ground. He must have heard her, for he looked up sharply then let out a deep sigh. He seemed so relieved to see her that she obediently leaned down to kiss his cheek and then sat beside him.
“Good morning, daughter. I am glad to see you up and about so early. Lord Daventry appears to have looked after you very well last night.” His compliment made her blush. She didn’t know how to reply.
“Lilly, there is no need to be embarrassed with me. The fault is all mine. Lord Daventry has quite a reputation with the ladies, and it was remiss of me to have left you alone with him. I thought only that you would be safe and comfortable.”
“You mean you did not think he would be interested in a lame woman.”
“I did not say that,” he said quickly.
“But it is the truth, Papa, whether you wish it or not.” Lilly sighed. She preferred to live her life in reality, not fantasy. Marrying Giles was pure fantasy.
“Well, that is neither here nor there. He has compromised you and done the decent thing by offering to marry you. He has accepted the consequences of his actions, and that is the end of it.”
“There can be no consequences when a particular event has not taken place, Papa.” Lilly would have him know the truth before it was too late. She would not have him disappointed when no child arrived because Giles would not bed her properly.
“Not taken place? But … you have shared his bed. Surely … he … you …?” he trailed off.
“Shared a bed, certainly, Papa. But the rest, he has not.” Lilly looked forward at the swirling fog and hid a grimace. She was lying by leaving out what sharing a bed with Giles had entailed. But she was not carrying Giles’ child. She could not possibly be.
She still had a chance of making her own choices. “What did you see in Wales, Papa? Was the estate acceptable?”
“How do you know about that?”
The surprise in his voice convinced her to go on. “The night of your return, I listened outside the dining room and heard you tell Giles about the nice old lady and spinster daughter in Scotland. I asked Giles about it later that night. He told me the truth, Papa. He did not lie to me as you do.”
Lilly watched her father gulp down his guilt and understood his dilemma. If he admitted to the plan, he would be admitting to being tired of caring for her. She would be tired too.
“It is all right. I am very grateful for the time you have spared for me these past years. It cannot have been an easy task, and I know you must have given up a great deal of your freedom. The estate is a good choice. Can I take a companion with me, do you think? I should like that better than a nurse. Tell me about the place.”
She rubbed her hand over her brow, irritated by him all at once. When her father raised his hands to his face, she did not turn to see whether he wiped away tears. Parting would be painful enough when the time came to head west.
In halting words, he told her about the house and grounds. Since there was also a small village nearby, he would have a place to stay when he visited her. Often, he assured her. Lilly did not require his assurance. She did not believe he planned to come at all. Why else would he choose a place so far away?
It was a long way away from him and his life. It was also far from her mother. She might never have to see her again, either.
“Now, I want to know what you spoke to Giles about. He would not tell me.”
“We did not want to worry you.”
“Papa, I am worried now. What could possibly make a man like Daventry turn whiter than the fowl set at the dinner table?”
“Giles is a good man, daughter,” he chided.
“Papa you are blind to his faults. He is a man most suitable and happy to seduce any woman. Please remember whom you are speaking of. How can you be happy to have such a notorious skirt-chaser in your family? You cannot be keen on this alliance.”
“As a matter of fact, I have no issues with you marrying Lord Daventry. He does care for you. He told me that yesterday, and I believed him. You will be marrying Lord Daventry, Lillian. Just as soon as the matter can be arranged.”
“No, I will not.” She stood and looked down at her father. “You cannot make me say the words or sign the register. What did you tell him?”
He shook his head. “You do not need to know the details.”
Lilly turned toward the house and left without saying a goodbye of any kind. She ignored Carrington’s enquiries as she passed him on her way to her room. The stout door would keep those foolish men from her sight. She just might be tempted to whack some sense into their defective brains. A man as virile as Giles deserved better than to marry a broken woman. Giles and Papa should realize that.
~ * ~
“She did not mean that.”
“Yes, she did.” Giles chuckled. “And I deserve a great deal more of your daughter’s anger beyond this outburst. She appears to have a terrible temper. Is that a family trait I need to prepare for? Perhaps I should acquire a suit of armor from somewhere. Maybe Ettington has had enough of that ghastly suit in his front hall.”
“I have not seen her lose her temper in years. Not since her mother gave away her puppy.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“It was years ago. When Barrette was younger, he came to our estate while his parents traveled abroad. He took an instant liking to the young pup my daughter had acquired from the stables. Since my wife lived in horror of dogs but liked to indulge our nephew, she handed him over. Lillian did not take it well.”
“I do not blame her. That seems a particularly cruel thing to do.”
“Yes, well, my wife was unable to bear more than one child. She took her frustrations out on our daughter. She had wanted a son quite desperately.”
“Lady Winter seems particularly cruel.”
The baron shook his head. “Are you out here to spy on me, Daventry, or is there something I can do for you?”
Unfortunately, Lord Winter’s problems were Giles’ problems now.
“I was watching over Lilly. It appears that Barrette has not left the area as I suggested. Since a foggy day can hide many an act of tomfoolery, perhaps you had better come back inside.”
“You fear for me too?”
“Let us say that you’re a little too close to that bridge for my liking. Come back inside and we w
ill play a hand of cards.”
Lord Winter rose and looked about him nervously. Giles had no wish to loiter outside where there was no chance to see if Barrette had plans. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as it was. He hustled his soon-to-be father-in-law towards the house as fast as he could.
“Would you know if Barrette can shoot with any degree of accuracy?” Giles asked as they crossed the threshold into the drawing room and locked the door behind them.
“No. Barrette is a terrible shot. I was surprised to see him out in the country. I don’t believe he cares for any place other than Dumas or London.”
“Of course he is here. You are here and I understand he has become something of a shadow. He was possibly frantic when he lost sight of Lilly’s whereabouts.”
“You believe him to be up to no good then?”
“I believe Lilly’s accident was no accident. An angel would always behave herself. Do you know she is afraid of heights?”
“Well, of course she is, and who could blame her?”
“She was afraid of heights before the accident, Winter. She never climbed the bridge,” Giles assured him.
Lord Winter’s face paled. “How the devil did you get that out of her? We never could discover how she fell. She was too ill to answer questions, and then later she wouldn’t answer.”
“She may not want to remember. I took her to the bridge myself a few days after her recovery, and she told me of an incident with a kitten, an apple tree, and your valet. She said she had been hysterical even then.”
“You are right, come to think of it. I had to slap Pinkerton to shut him up. Lilly was as white as a ghost. We all thought she’d climbed that bridge.”
“We? Would that be you and Barrette, perhaps?”
“He was a kind boy before his father’s passing.”
“Things change – people die,” Giles reminded him, even more certain to be on guard for Lilly’s sake. He did not know how far Barrette might be prepared to go to achieve his misguided goal of saving the estate from the loss of Lilly’s ridiculous dowry. At least Winter had compromised on the amount, but it would be better to be prepared.
“Did you teach my daughter to play cards?”
“I simply refreshed her memory. She learns fast.” Giles glanced at Lord Winter’s clenched fist and sighed. Oh, his previous life was irritating. He was well known to favor table stakes when gambling privately with women, and quite often clothing was gambled away too. But everything he had done with Lilly had been fresh and very different from his usual antics. It was not Lord Winter’s fault if he anticipated the absolute worst of him.
“You taught her to gamble to get her into bed. I know full well how you receive payment from your paramours,” Lord Winter fumed.
“I taught her to play cards. Not to gamble,” Giles corrected. The least he could do was tell the truth about that. “Lilly placed her bets with some help from my signals.”
“So Lillian is correct when she said that she was not bedded?”
“She said that, did she? Silly widgeon. Winter, I hate to bring up such a delicate subject, but I promise you I have compromised your daughter most thoroughly. It is taking all my fortitude to restrain myself until our marriage, but she won’t make it past the first ten minutes with her virginity intact.” Giles chuckled, anticipation making him giddy. He would be very happy to keep her trapped in his bed for the first six months of marriage.
Lord Winter pressed his lips together tight, but said nothing further as they passed the afternoon playing cards. Giles supposed he should not be quite so blunt about the matter of bedding Lilly, but Winter appeared to take it quite well. Giles found it a relief to be able to be himself with his future father.
They ate dinner without Lilly. Winter watched for her, but Lilly did not come or send a note. Giles wasn’t worried. He would see her when he went to bed. He was looking forward to holding her in his arms again.
Giles walked into his bedchamber at close to midnight and stripped off his clothes in the dark. He hardened in anticipation of running his hands over Lilly’s curves as his fingers touched the sheets. She was filling out and the sight of her ribs no longer pained him by their sharpness. He climbed into bed, eager, but found only cold sheets and emptiness. Damn that woman. Lilly was going to be the death of him.
Giles jumped back out of bed, pulled on his shirt and trousers, and strode out the door towards Lilly’s old room. He turned the handle but found she’d locked the door. He knocked, but heard no sounds within. Not even the dog. Silly widgeon. She forgot he could use the housekeeper’s key again.
He hurried down the hall and found the servants’ stairs leading to the exit closest to Mrs. Osprey’s office. Once he had the housekeeper’s set, Giles turned back to the stairs, but something stopped him. He dragged in another breath and froze.
Smoke.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ATTICUS’ WINE WOKE Lilly from a troubled sleep and she sat up, disoriented in the dark. She did not know what time it was, but thought it must be very late. Atticus barked at her then scratched at the door urgently.
That was what must have woken her. The dog must want to go out.
She slipped from the bed, tired and unhappy to be awake again. Her sleep had been filled with images of falling and cold, hard water rising up to meet her. She shuddered and wished the dream would go away again.
She hurried around the bed in the darkness to the dog, patting his head as she reached him. “Sorry, boy. I didn’t mean to lock you in.”
He was such a well-trained hound, but she must have locked him in too early. Her bad mood the day before was no excuse for neglecting the beast. She liked him too much to be cruel. Lilly flicked the lock, turned the knob to pull the door open, and drew in a lungful of thick smoke. She coughed and pushed the door closed with both hands.
A warning bell rang out.
“Dear God, the manor is on fire.” Lilly staggered back from the door, coughing and wiping her stinging eyes. Confused, she crashed into a side table and tumbled a vase to the floor. Glass shattered. Her feet were bare.
When she could see again, she judged where she was in relation to the break and worked out which way to go to avoid cutting herself. She stepped carefully, sliding her bare feet along the floor until she found herself far away from the glass.
Atticus whined at the door, but she ignored his complaints. They needed to get out, but she would need more than a nightgown on her back and bare feet.
Lilly hurried to her wardrobe, threw a dark gown over the top of her nightgown, grabbed a pair of thin slippers and jammed them on her feet. She wished she had something thicker, but Katarina purchased only beautiful things, not practical ones.
Grabbing up a length of towel, Lilly soaked it in water, then wrapped the wet cloth around her neck, effectively tying down her long hair. Lilly grabbed a second length of cloth and decided to wet that too. She could cover the dog’s snout as well if he would allow it. She couldn’t risk losing him.
With shoes now protecting her feet, she rushed across the room to the door and draped the wet cloth over the dog’s nose. Atticus tried to back away, but she commanded him to obey while she tied it loosely at his neck.
With one last look about the room, Lilly curled her fingers in the wolfhound’s collar and told him to get out. If she held on tight, he might be able to lead her outside more quickly than if she tried to find her way alone. She did not imagine it would be easy to pass through the house as it burned, but she trusted the dog to do his best for both of them.
Lilly opened the door slowly and smoke poured through the crack, rising upwards to the roof. Atticus pulled her forward and she stumbled after him.
She could not see and she could barely breathe. When she looked down, Lilly saw that the smoke was thinner closer to the floor. But bending down was difficult, her skirts twisted about her legs and hampered her every step.
At the top of the stairs, she stumbled heavily into the railing and
gasped in pain, sucking up too much smoke when her wet cloth became detached. She coughed and struggled to find her feet again. Lilly gripped the railing with one hand and inched downwards, Atticus pulling relentlessly on her arm.
On the first landing, she stumbled again and went down hard, losing her grip on the dog. She felt a touch on her hand and he whimpered as he fretted over her fall. The smoke stung her eyes, and she had to keep them mostly closed against the irritation. They had to get out, and soon.
Lilly pulled herself up, but pain lanced down her back. As much as Lilly hurt, she could not stay here to wait for help. She had to save herself. Sweat broke out over her face as she inched down the last flight carefully, and found herself in thick smoke again. The fire must be down here somewhere, but she could not sense heat from any direction. She could not see the main door either, but was sure it was straight ahead.
She reached out with one hand and her fingertips brushed a wall. Coughing, she followed the smooth wood panel and her hands raced over the surface, searching for the lock. The smoke was so thick that she could not see the door she touched. Atticus pressed at her side.
The door opened with a snap and she pulled it back, gasping in the fresh air that streamed into her face. They were out. Atticus had already bolted, shaking his head to remove the cloth and barking at her to hurry. He raced back to Lilly and nipped at her skirts to rush her away.
Lilly stumbled across the front drive and found the little patch of grass surrounding the ornamental pond. She collapsed to the grass, groaning as the hard ground slammed more pain into her, then coughing until she thought her lungs might burst. Atticus abandoned her to gulp down pond water.
When she lifted her head, smoke billowed from the back of the moonlit house. When she could find her feet again, she would go looking for the others, but the grass was so cool and soft that she lay there while she got her breath back.
