She waited for him to withdraw.
He never did.
Instead, his eyes still on the road, he pressed another kiss to the back of her hand, then on each knuckle in turn, then another into her palm, and another on the tender skin on the inside of her wrist. He did not look at her.
Her hand trembled in his.
His lips brushed her skin as carefully and tenderly as if he expected her to pull away.
The affection was as intimate as anything since the wedding, as anything she might have imagined, and yet he did it on the open road. To be fair, no one was on the road with them, but it still seemed scandalous. Yet he kissed her almost meditatively, as if each kiss were a deliberate decision. These kisses were not delighted, but neither were they light or false.
When a carriage came into view going the opposite direction, he shifted her hand to rest upon his forearm, and glanced at her with the hint of a melancholy smile before looking ahead again. He sketched a polite bow to the other driver as they passed.
Neither of them said anything else until they reached the children’s home. The yard looked different to Lily, but she could not say exactly why. Theo stepped down from the phaeton and offered her his hand. When she stood beside him, he offered his arm and escorted her to the door. She glanced at him again before knocking.
There was no answer.
She knocked again, then said, “It is strange to get no answer.” She strained her ears, but heard no sound of children’s voices or footsteps.
“They are not here, Lily,” he said quietly.
She looked up at him again in surprise. “Why not? Where are they?”
He produced a key and unlocked the door. Lily felt a distant sense of surprise at this, but of course it was not entirely beyond belief that he would have a key to the door if his money helped pay for the house and staff. He offered her his hand as she stepped over the threshold, then closed the door behind them.
Lily walked with quickening steps through the house, looking in the living room and kitchen, then the three classrooms with increasing alarm. The children were all gone, and there was a sense of desolation about the house that gave her the impression they had been for some time. She opened the door to the garden and ran out, taking in the overgrown grass and faded delphiniums, then closed the door in a daze. The kitchen was empty; a sharp knife and two spoons sat by the basin, as if they had been washed and left to dry, and the inhabitants of the house had disappeared before putting them away. She ran back to where Theo still stood in the vestibule, lean and elegant and apparently unconcerned with the children’s or the staff’s whereabouts.
“Where are they?” she asked, near tears.
“I cannot say,” he replied.
“You knew they weren’t here!” she said, feeling the sharp accusation in her voice. “How did you know? Why didn’t you tell me this morning?”
He swallowed, and for an instant his eyes met hers, and she knew that his apparent indifference was only a facade. “I am sorry, my love.” He clasped his hands behind his back, and swallowed again, as if his words nearly choked him. Then he said quietly, “I must ask again, what did you tell Lord Willowvale?”
She covered her mouth. “I don’t understand.” She blinked back tears. “Why are you asking me that? Are you jealous?” Her voice rose in incredulity. She could not imagine it, but men were strange creatures.
He gave a choked little laugh. “Should I be?” His gaze held hers. “When did you last see him?”
“At the wedding.” She stared at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes welling with tears.
He pressed his lips together, then murmured, “Did you not speak with him yesterday?”
“Of course not! Why would I?” Her lip trembled.
Theo swallowed again. It was not impossible that Lord Willowvale had evaded her notice, as he had that of Anselm. “I cannot imagine why you should want to speak with him. I am glad to know you agree.” If the words tasted like ash in his mouth, Lily didn’t know it, because his voice was steady.
“Where are the children?” Lily whispered.
“I cannot say.” He shrugged and turned away, as if he did not care. “It is really none of my concern, anyway. I am sure the prince has found some other location for them.”
Lily stared at him, trying to reconcile the tenderness of his kisses in the phaeton with his strange accusations and now his detached unconcern. He no longer seemed interested in the conversation at all, and the taut emotion of only a moment ago had disappeared like smoke.
“I think I should like to go home now,” she said at last.
He offered her his arm without a word.
Neither Lily nor Theo said anything unnecessary on the way home, but the silence was not exactly icy. If anything, Theo seemed thoughtful and melancholy, but not angry.
When he helped her down from the phaeton at the front door of the manner, she said quietly, “There is no reason for you to be jealous, Theo.”
He blinked at her, as if baffled by the statement. “I’m not.” He said it simply, his voice soft and full of sincerity, but that answer only confused her all the more. He bowed, beautifully proper as always, then said, “If you will excuse me, my love, I will see to the horses.”
He met her at dinner and said nothing more of the children, their disappearance, or that fraught conversation, either that day or later. In fact, he seemed to have entirely forgotten it by the next morning.
As usual, he met her for breakfast, already exquisitely dressed. She had worn one of her older dresses; he had seen every dress she owned by now, and it wasn’t an appropriate occasion for one of her newer, more elaborate dresses. She had put a little glamour upon it to hide the frayed edge of the hem and the worn areas at her elbows.
She had gathered by now that Theo had no gift of glamour, for he did not seem to notice it at all, much less remark upon it. Instead, he asked if he might give her a ride around the estate, for there was a beautiful view across the pond at the rear of Lord Selby’s garden from a certain hill.
As he drove, he pointed out sights she had not noticed on their previous ride, which had followed a slightly different route. There was a tree he had loved climbing as a child, and there was the stream that fed Lord Selby’s pond. He and Lord Selby had once found a nest of turtle eggs near a fallen tree at the far end of the pond.
When Lily glanced at him surreptitiously, she could not read his expression. She sighed softly, aching for the joy she had expected with him.
“Are you tired, my love?” he asked solicitously. He looked at her, his eyes warm and kind.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“I had a picnic prepared, if you would so honor me.” He said it almost tentatively, as if she would refuse.
“I would be delighted.” She smiled up at him, and the smile was not as forced as it might have been.
Theo stopped the phaeton upon a grassy knoll and helped her down. He spread a blanket upon the lush grass and lifted a large picnic basket from the back of the phaeton; Lily wondered that she had not noticed it earlier. The basket folded out to form a little table, and from the interior Theo pulled slices of thick bread still warm from the oven, a little pot of honeyed butter, slices of ham and turkey, grapes, sugared nuts, wine glasses wrapped in thick cloth, and a bottle of light wine. He smiled sweetly at her, then focused on the food for a moment. He prepared a plate for her and poured her wine before fixing his own.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked suddenly.
“Doing what?” He blinked.
The question welled up within her, too large and fraught to speak aloud. Her eyes filled with tears, and she brushed at them. “All of this,” she whispered.
He inclined his head toward her in a simple, sincere bow. “I love you, Lily,” he murmured.
She stared at his copper waves, then met his warm hazel eyes as he straightened. There was a guardedness there that seemed deeply, horribly wrong, hidden behind the warmth and kindness she had alwa
ys known to define him. She bit her lip and looked down, wiping the tears from her eyes with one hand while the other clenched the fabric of her skirt.
Theo gently took her right hand between his and bowed over it, then pressed a kiss, light as a summer breeze, to each finger in turn. His lips were warm and soft, and his exquisite green jacket pulled over his shoulders as he bowed, showing his lean, athletic figure to perfect advantage. She wished desperately he would kiss her properly, but she did not say it.
The distance between them seemed to be growing, and she was too afraid, too grief-stricken, to know what to do. Theo’s devoted courtesy seemed to simultaneously offer hope for some resolution and increase her distress.
One evening she ate dinner with Sir Theodore and Lady Overton in the garden. Theo was away on business, and though Lily appreciated the Overtons’ kindness in including her at dinner, she also felt the strange awkwardness between them. Clearly they knew something of what had come between Theo and Lily, but they avoided the topic entirely, treating her with their customary warmth.
During the second course, Lily ventured, “Before the wedding, I asked Theo who had shaped him, and he said you both had been an inspiration to him. He said I might ask you about it after our wedding.”
Sir Theodore said gently, “That was kind of him. However, I believe it is not yet time to share that story with you.”
Lily felt a sinking feeling of rejection, and it must have shown on her face.
Lady Overton said kindly, “I would like to know whom you admire, Lily. It is a lovely way to get to know someone better, and I look forward to the opportunity to share our story with you.”
Some two weeks after their visit to the children’s home, Theo said during their quiet breakfast together, “There is the garden party at Lord Holmwood’s estate tomorrow. I ought to have told you before. I was planning to attend, if you wouldn’t mind. Then two days later there is Lord Hasting’s ball.”
Lily swallowed. “Do I have anything fancy enough to wear?”
He raised one eyebrow. “I should think so. Has Mrs. Collingwood not adequately supplied you?”
She looked down. “I… don’t know how much is left on the account. I didn’t want to presume.”
“It was a gift.” Theo stared at her, slightly pale. “Did you think I would retract it?”
“No, of course not.” She bit her lip. “I just didn’t want to presume, especially after…” She could not look at him.
He stood. “I may be a clod, but I don’t think I am a miserly clod. Let us see what you have and then we will decide.” He swept her up with him through her private sitting room, through her bedroom, and into the empty closet, where he stopped suddenly.
“Where are your clothes?” he said blankly.
“In the wardrobe.”
He turned to her, looking confused. She showed him the wardrobe and winced when he opened it, feeling somehow embarrassed to have him see her dresses hanging up. It seemed intimate somehow, and they were not yet that intimate. Her idea of meeting him on their wedding night in his room, dressed only in her sheer nightgown, seemed not only alien in its boldness, but mortifying now, a month later.
Theo selected a dress. “This one looks lovely on you, and I don’t believe you’ve worn it at a party yet, only at the private party with our parents and Oliver. Then for Lord Hasting’s ball… this one. I’ll ask Mrs. Collingwood to devise a wrap for you to coordinate with one of my jackets.”
“Thank you.”
He hesitated, then said quietly, “You should have her make you some more dresses, if you like.”
“Thank you.” Heat suffused her cheeks.
He was gone much of the rest of the day, only returning that evening, with Lord Selby in tow. Interestingly, Theo had the vague edge of glamour about him, but Lily couldn’t see anything that looked unusual.
Why would Theo be wearing a glamour? Where had he gotten it? From his young fairy friend? Lily had not seen the young fairy after that one strange day in the garden.
Lord Selby stayed for dinner, and that was informative too. Lord Selby had, of course, excellent manners, and made himself pleasant to all. Afterwards, he retired with Theo and Sir Theodore to the study, while Lady Overton and Lily went to the parlor for dessert and to read a little before retiring for the night.
“How long have Lord Selby and Theo been friends?” she asked her mother-in-law.
“It must be nearly fifteen years by now.” The older lady smiled at her. “Lord Selby is a year younger than Theo, but it has never stood between them. Lord Selby’s father passed away unexpectedly a few years ago.”
“How sad!” Lily exclaimed.
“Yes. We have been quite honored to be able to spend time with him. My Theodore had been able to offer advice and fatherly wisdom at times. I believe he may be here now for something similar.”
Lily frowned. “Oh. That is very kind of you.”
Lady Overton nodded with a faint smile. “He’s quite a wonderful young man, and we are glad to have him in our lives.”
At this moment, Theo left the study and strode down the hall toward his wing of the house, and Lily said, “Thank you. I should probably follow him.”
“Goodnight, my dear.” Lady Overton’s gaze followed Lily all the way to the door.
Chapter 25
A Stolen Beauty
Theo drove the little black two seater phaeton to Lord Holmwood’s estate the next day. Lily sat beside him, quietly admiring his skillful driving and enjoying the soft breeze that blew over the hills carrying the sweet scents of hay and heather.
“Is everything all right with Lord Selby?” she asked impulsively.
Theo glanced at her. “Yes. Why should it not be?”
“I just wondered. Your mother said he sometimes comes to your father for advice.”
Theo gave a quiet huff that was almost an affectionate chuckle. “He does, yes. He is no longer able to help a certain friend, and my father has been in the same situation. He wanted to speak to my father about how difficult he feels that position to be, and what he might do about it.”
“Is there anything to be done?” Lily asked with interest.
“No.” Theo smiled at her, his hazel eyes warm. “Anyway, the friend can manage without Lord Selby’s assistance.”
“Does that hurt his feelings?”
“He’s far too selfless for that. No, he’s genuinely grieved, and the feeling does him much credit.” Theo turned his attention back to the road. “Please don’t speak of it at the party, my love. A man’s private concerns brought to a close friend do not bear repeating in public.”
Lily swallowed. “Of course not.”
Because Theo had driven them himself, he took the phaeton around to the side, where one of the grooms took the horses, and helped Lily down onto the brick path beside the driveway.
The garden party was ostensibly to celebrate the first day of fall, but really to show off the expensive new fountain Lord Holmwood had recently had installed. The spread was not half as luxurious as that at Theo and Lily’s wedding reception, but it compared well with nearly every other garden party hosted that summer. The garden was bright with brown-eyed Susans, goldenrod, stonecrop, heleniums, and chrysanthemums.
As Theo led her toward the gathered nobility, his customary cheerfulness and sparkling wit descended upon him as if by magic. Lily had all she could do not to stare at him in awe; for a month he had been shadowed by some secret grief, and now, before all these people, he was as carefree and sunny as a beloved puppy.
Was the grief not real, or did it only trouble him in her presence? Lily could not help feeling a little hurt. Perhaps instead he was merely a talented actor, able to hide his true emotions. She did not want to doubt his love, but the ease with which he assumed this façade brought a tiny, terrified little undercurrent of doubt that nothing had been genuine at all. She squashed it. Whatever was going on, this was only an act. It must be!
At the party they greeted Lord and
Lady Holmwood, then were free to greet other friends and acquaintances. Theo was, of course, always terribly popular, and as newlyweds they were greeted and congratulated by everyone. He complimented everyone with practiced ease, leaving ripples of laughter in his wake.
“Will you honor me with this dance, Lily?” He turned to her.
The dance almost felt like nothing had ever happened between them, and Lily had a strange moment in which she felt utterly disoriented. She smiled up at him and saw only the familiar, beloved warmth in his eyes, the slight crinkles beside his eyes as he smiled back, the scattered freckles across his nose and cheeks. His hair shone like copper in the brilliant sunlight. Her left hand felt the strength of his shoulder, and the other the gentleness of his hand as he guided her into the next turn.
After three dances, for he did not even pause between them, Theo guided her to the side, where he procured a glass of wine and a tiny plate of some sort of cheese drizzled with a fruit sauce.
“How do I eat this?” She glanced up at him.
“With your fingers.” He picked it up and presented it to her, so that she might eat it from his hand. It seemed ridiculously, scandalously intimate behavior for a party, but when she met his gaze, he quirked one eyebrow at her and smiled a little, as if daring her to accept it.
She did, carefully, quickly, and as discreetly as possible, and he leaned forward to murmur, “We are married. If they want to talk, let them talk. I certainly don’t mind everyone knowing that I adore you.”
But when he withdrew so that she could see his face, there was that faint uncertainty in his eyes. She took his hand in hers and smiled.
From his position near the much-vaunted fountain Lord Willowvale watched with interest as Oliver Hathaway danced with Lady Araminta Poole a third time. His Majesty Silverthorn had sent an alarming message to Lord Willowvale that very morning, noting that the mountains were quite lost in the mist and that the indigo forests were only pale gray. There were other concerning symptoms of the Fair Lands’ malaise, but those two had been the ones that could be most clearly appraised from the palace itself.
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