Zachary reached over to pat Lily’s hand as he came to her defense. “You are rather forthright, my dear, but anyone who is acquainted with you knows that you have the most compassionate of hearts.”
Lily beamed at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that her sister looked dumbstruck. Penelope could scarcely conceive that the man she loved was calling Lily “my dear.” Sympathy and amusement battled within Lily’s chest. She wished she could
tell Penelope that this was all a sham. “I shall try to curb my tongue,” Lily promised with a laugh, “if only for this afternoon. Do
go on with your news, Zach, and I’ll refrain from spouting my shocking opinions. Let me pour your tea. Milk, no sugar, correct?”
While Zachary entertained them with his tales of London. Alex drew on his cigar and watched Lily. He was forced to concede there was a possibility the two were contemplating marriage. There was an easy familiarity between them that bespoke a long friendship. It was clear that they liked each other and were comfortable together.
The advantages such a marriage would present were obvious. As a third son, Zachary would certainly be appreciative of Lily’s fortune, more sizeable than any pittance he would stand to inherit. And Lily was an attractive woman. In the sea green gown
she was wearing today, her skin took on a faint rosy glow, and her dark hair and eyes were strikingly exotic. No man would
find it a chore to bed her. Furthermore, in the view of society Lily would be fortunate to land a man of such good family and character. Especially after she had strayed along the edge of the demimonde for so long.
Alex frowned at the thought of the two of them together. It was all wrong. For all his thirty years, Zachary was still a guileless boy. He would never be the man in his own home, not with a wife as headstrong as Lily. Zachary would always find it easier
to obey her wishes rather than argue with her. As the years passed by, Lily would come to feel contempt for her callow
husband. This marriage was misery in the making.
“My lord?” Lily and the others were looking at him expectantly. Alex realized that his thoughts had wandered, and he had lost track of the conversation. “My lord,” Lily said, “I just asked you if the hole has been dug in the garden yet.”
Alex wondered if he had heard her correctly. “Hole?” he repeated.
Lily looked extremely pleased with herself. “Yes, for the new pond.”
Alex regarded her in dumbfounded silence. Somehow he regained his voice. “What in hell are you talking about?”
Everyone seemed startled by his profanity except for Lily. Her smile remained unaltered. “I had a lovely conversation with
your gardener Mr. Chumley yesterday afternoon. I gave him several ideas to improve the garden.”
Alex stubbed out his cigar and threw the butt into the fireplace. “My garden doesn’t need improvement,” he snarled. “It’s been
the same way for twenty years!”
She nodded cheerfully. “Precisely my point. I told him that the style of your landscape is sadly outmoded. All the really fashionable gardens have several ponds all around them. I showed Mr. Chumley exactly where a new one must be dug.”
A flush of scarlet crept up from Alex’s collar to his temples. He wanted to strangle her. “Chumley wouldn’t overturn a spoonful
of dirt without asking my permission.”
Lily shrugged innocently. “He seemed enthusiastic about the notion. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already begun digging. Really,
I think you’ll adore the changes.” She gave him a fond, sisterly smile. “And whenever you walk by that dear little pond, perhaps you’ll always think of me.”
Wolverton’s features contorted. He made a sound that resembled a roar as he stormed out of the parlor.
Totty, Penelope, and Zachary all stared at Lily.
“I don’t think he appreciated my idea,” she remarked, looking disappointed.
“Wilhemina,” Totty said faintly, “I know your efforts were well intentioned. However, I do not think you should attempt to
make any more improvements about Lord Raiford’s estate.”
Suddenly one of the cook-maids, clad in a white apron and ruffled cap, appeared at the door of the parlor. “Lady Lawson,
Cook wants to speak wi’ ye about the weddin’ feast, as soon as yer ladyship ‘as the time. She don’t know what to make o’
what, from the soup to the trifle.”
“But why?” Totty asked, perplexed. “She and I already agreed on those preparations, down to the last detail. There’s no reason
for confusion.”
Lily cleared her throat delicately. “Mother, it’s possible that Cook wants to discuss the changes I suggested to the wedding menu.”
“Oh, dear. Wilhemina, what have you done?” Totty stood up and rushed from the room, her curls bouncing agitatedly.
Lily smiled at Zachary and Penelope. “Well, why don’t the two of you pass the time together while I try to undo some of the
havoc I’ve caused?” Ignoring Penelope’s weak protests, she slipped out of the parlor and closed the door. She rubbed her hands together and grinned. “Well done,” she said to herself, restraining the urge to whistle as she strode through the back gallery. Opening the French doors, she went out to the garden.
Wandering around hedges and well-tended trees, Lily enjoyed the clear day and the feel of the breeze in her curls. She took
care to keep out of sight, especially when she heard the sound of voices. The ominous rumble of Wolverton’s tone resembled thunder. She had to hear what was going on. It was too great a temptation to resist. Lily sneaked closer, drawing behind a concealing yew hedge.
“… but my lord,” Chumley was protesting. Lily could picture his round face turning pink around his whiskers, the sunlight shining off his balding forehead. “My lord, she did make the suggestion, but I would never undertake such a significant project without consulting you.”
“I don’t care what she suggests, significant or trivial, don’t do it,” Wolverton commanded. “Don’t so much as clip a twig or pull
a weed at her request! Don’t move a pebble!”
“Yes, my lord, I certainly agree.”
“We don’t need any more damned ponds in this garden!”
“No, my lord, we do not.”
“Inform me if she tries to instruct you in your duties again, Chumley. And notify the rest of the staff that they’re not to make
any changes in their usual activities. I’m afraid of setting foot off my own estate—next she’ll have the entire mansion painted
pink and purple.”
“Yes, my lord.”
It seemed that Wolverton’s ranting had come to an end, the conversation concluded. Hearing the sound of footsteps, Lily shrank further into the protection of the yew. It would not do to be discovered. Unfortunately, a sixth sense must have alerted Wolverton to her presence. Lily made no movement or sound, but still he looked around the hedge and found her. One moment she was smiling and silently congratulating herself, and the next she was staring into his scowling face.
“Miss Lawson!” he snapped.
Lily used her hand to shade her eyes. “Yes, my lord?”
“Did you overhear enough, or should I repeat myself?”
“Everyone within a mile could not help overhearing you. And if it reassures you, I would never dream of painting the mansion purple. Although—”
“What are you doing out here?” he interrupted.
Lily thought rapidly. “Well, Zachary and I had a … a slight altercation. I came out here to take the air, and let my temper cool,
and then—”
“Is your mother with Zachary and Penelope?”
“Well, I suppose she must be,” she replied innocently.
Wolverton stared into Lily’s eyes as if he could see past her carefully blank expression and read every thought. “What are you
up to?” he asked in a murderous
tone. Abruptly he turned and walked away from her, following the path to the house.
Oh, no. Lily went cold, thinking that he might possibly catch Zachary and Penelope in some compromising situation. Everything would be ruined. She had to find some way to stop him. “Wait,” she cried, hurrying after him. “Wait! W-”
All at once her foot was caught in something, and she went flying to the ground with a shriek. With an oath, she twisted to see what had stopped her. A twisted tree root, arcing out of the ground. She tried to get to her feet, but a stab of pain went through her ankle, and she collapsed to the grass. “Oh, bloody hell—”
Wolverton’s voice cut through her extravagant cursing. “What is it?” he demanded, having come back a few steps along the path.
“I turned my ankle!” she said in furious surprise.
Alex gave her a speaking glance and turned away.
“Damn you, I did!” she shouted. “Come and help me up. Surely even you must be enough of a gentleman to do that—surely
you have the teaspoonful of breeding required for that.”
Alex approached her, making no effort to reach down for her. “Which leg is it?”
“Is it necessary for you to know?”
Sinking to his haunches, Alex flipped the hem of her skirts up to her stockinged ankles. “Which one? This?”
“No, the—ow!” Lily yelped in pain. “What are you trying to—ow! That hurts like the devil! Take your blasted hand away,
you big, hatchet-faced sadist—”
“Well, it seems you’re not shamming.” Alex seized her elbows, lifting her to her feet.
“Of course I’m not! Why hasn’t that deuced root been cut out of the ground? It’s positively hazardous!”
He responded with a scorching glare. “Are there any other changes to my garden you’d like to suggest?” His tone was humming with suppressed violence.
Prudently Lily shook her head and kept her mouth closed.
“Good,” he muttered, and they started back to the house.
Awkwardly Lily limped along beside him. “Aren’t you going to offer me your arm?”
He shoved his elbow at her. She took his arm, leaning her weight on the solid support. Lily did her best to hamper Wolverton
as they made their way back through the garden. She wanted Zachary and Penelope to have as much time alone as possible. Discreetly Lily glanced at her companion. Some time after he had left the parlor, Wolverton must have raked his hands through
his golden hair, for the usually immaculate smoothness was ruffled and disordered. The humid air was making it curl on the back of his neck. A stray lock or two had fallen onto his forehead. Really, he had beautiful hair for a man.
Walking so close to him, Lily became aware of the pleasant scent that clung to him, the mixture of tobacco and crisp starched linen and some appealing, underlying fragrance she couldn’t quite identify. In spite of the throbbing of her ankle, she was almost enjoying her stroll with him. That disturbed her so profoundly that she was compelled to stir up another argument.
“Must you walk so fast?” she demanded. “I feel as if we’re in a frigging footrace. Blast it! If this worsens my injury, Wolverton,
I’ll hold you accountable.”
Alex scowled but slowed his pace. “You have a foul mouth, Miss Lawson.”
“Men talk the same way. I don’t see why I can’t. Besides, all of my gentlemen friends admire my colorful vocabulary.”
“Including Derek Craven?”
Lily was glad that he was aware of her friendship with Derek. It was good for him to know she had a powerful ally.
“Mr. Craven has taught me some of the most useful words I know.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Must we plow ahead like this? I am not some obstinate mule to be dragged forth at such a relentless pace. Could we slow to
a more reasonable speed? Incidentally, my lord, you reek of cigars.”
“If it offends you, make your own way back.”
They continued to quarrel as they entered the house. Lily made certain that her voice was strong enough to echo through the gallery and the marble hall, alerting Penelope and Zachary to their return. As Wolverton opened the parlor door and yanked
Lily inside with him, they saw the star-crossed lovers sitting respectably far apart from each other. Lily wondered what had transpired between them during their moment of privacy. Zachary appeared to be in his usually good humor, while Penelope looked pink and flustered.
Alex surveyed the two of them and spoke dryly.
“Miss Lawson mentioned something about an argument?” Having risen to his feet at their entrance, Zachary gave Lily a bewildered glance.
“My quick temper is legendary.” Lily interceded with a laugh. “I just had to dash out and clear my head. Am I forgiven, Zach?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Zachary said gallantly, coming over to kiss her hand.
Lily switched her hold on Alex’s arm to Zachary’s. “Zach, I’m afraid you’ll have to help me to a chair. I turned my ankle while
I was strolling through the garden.” She waved a hand disdainfully in the direction of Wolverton’s immaculately groomed landscape. “A root was protruding from the ground, nearly as thick as a man’s leg!”
“A slight exaggeration,” Alex said sardonically.
“Well, it was quite large, nonetheless.” With Zachary’s help, she limped dramatically to a nearby chair and eased herself into it.
“We’ll have to make a poultice,” Penelope exclaimed. “Poor Lily—don’t move!” She rushed from the room and headed toward
the kitchen.
Zachary began to question Lily in concern. “How bad is the injury? Is the pain limited solely to your ankle?”
“I’ll be perfectly fine.” She gave an exaggerated wince. “But perhaps you would return tomorrow, to check on my condition?”
“Every day, until you’re better,” Zachary promised.
Lily smiled over his head at Wolverton, wondering if the grating sound she heard was his teeth gnashing together.
*
By the next day, Lily’s ankle felt almost like new, with only a twinge of discomfort as a reminder of having sprained it. The weather was unusually warm and sunny. In the morning Zachary arrived to take her for a carriage ride, and Lily insisted that Penelope accompany them. Brusquely Alex declined Penelope’s halfhearted invitation to join them, electing to stay behind and attend some business about the estate. Needless to say, Lily, Penelope, and Zachary were all silently relieved at Alex’s refusal. Had he participated in their outing, it would have made things rather tense.
The threesome set off in an open-air carriage. Zachary handled the ribbons expertly, occasionally looking over his shoulder
and grinning at the comments made by his two passengers. Lily and Penelope sat together, their smiling faces shaded by straw bonnets. They came to a fork in the road. At Zachary’s suggestion they took the less-traveled avenue, until they reached a particularly beautiful section of country. Zachary pulled the carriage to a stop. They admired the wide green meadow before
them, fragrant with violets, clover, and wild geraniums.
“How lovely!” Penelope exclaimed, pushing an errant blonde curl away from her eyes. “Might we go for a walk? I’d love to
pick some violets for Mother.”
“Hmm.” Lily shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid my ankle still pains me a little,” she lied. “I’m not up to tromping through
fields today. Perhaps Zachary would volunteer to escort you.”
“Oh, I …” Penelope looked at Zachary’s serious, handsome face and blushed with confusion. “I don’t think that would be proper.”
“Please,” Zachary entreated. “It would be my great pleasure.”
“But … unchaperoned …”
“Come, we all know Zach’s the perfect gentleman,” Lily said. “And I will keep my eyes on the two of you the entire time. I’ll chaperone f
rom a distance. Of course, if you don’t wish to walk, Penny, I would be delighted for you to sit here with me and admire the view from the carriage.”
Faced with the decision to walk unchaperoned through the meadow with the man she loved or sit in the carriage with her sister, Penelope bit her lower lip and frowned. Temptation won out. She gave Zachary a small smile. “Perhaps just a short walk.”
“We’ll return the very moment you desire,” Zachary replied, and leapt eagerly from the carriage.
Lily watched in fond amusement as Zachary helped Penny to the ground and the two began a slow trek across the meadow.
The two of them were perfect for each other. Zachary was an honorable young man, strong enough to protect her, yet boyish enough that he would never intimidate her. And Penny was exactly the sweet, innocent sort of girl that he needed.
Putting her slippered feet up on the velvet-upholstered seat, Lily reached for the basket of fruit and biscuits they had brought.
She bit into a strawberry and tossed the green stem over the side of the carriage. Untying her bonnet strings, she let the sun
shine on her face, and reached for another strawberry.
Once, long ago, she and Giuseppe had partaken of a picnic lunch in Italy, reclining in a meadow very much like this one. It had been in the days just before they had become lovers. At the time Lily had thought herself to be quite sophisticated. It had been only later that she realized how stupidly naive she had been …
“The country air is splendid,” she had declared, leaning her bare elbows on a blanket and biting into a
buttery, ripe pear. “Everything tastes better out here!”
“So you tire of the jaded pleasures of the city, amore mio?” Giuseppe’s beautiful eyes, long-lashed and liquid black, regarded her with sensuous warmth.
“Society is as much a bore here as it is in England,” Lily said reflectively, staring at the hot green grass. “Everyone striving to be witty and sought-after, everyone talking and no one listening…”
“I listen, carissima. I listen to evert’ing you say.”
Lily turned and smiled at him, resting her weight on her elbow. “You do, don’t you? Why is that, Giuseppe?”
“I am in love with you,” he said passionately.
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