“Don’t shame me, Uncle,” she said in a pleading voice. “I only want to hear of your sheep. Men always talk of more interesting topics than women are allowed to discuss.”
She glanced at Mory, fearing that he would be equally scandalized, but instead he had his lips pressed together while his eyes danced, as though he were holding back laughter. His reaction emboldened her that much more.
“I am the most aggravating person, Mory,” she said, giving him a pleading look. “I am curious to a fault, terribly independent, and—”
“Exactly the kind of woman I could live a full life with,” Mory cut in. He crossed to her and took both of her hands in his. “I have wished that there were a woman, somewhere in England, who might have an adventurous spirit to match my own. A woman who had the confidence to leave the familiar and embrace the unknown, who might have the curiosity and determination a life abroad would require.”
The sound of Uncle Peter clearing his throat reminded Lila they were not alone. She looked past Mory to see her uncle standing a few feet behind him. He smiled at her, a soft and loving smile. “I believe I should leave you two alone,” he said. “I shall call for tea and meet you in the parlor when you are ready.” He bowed slightly and left the room.
With the sound of the door closing, Lila looked up into Mory’s face again, her whole body tingling like it did whenever she stepped from the bath on a winter day. “I have replayed my attempt at an explanation and wish there were better words to say it.”
He crooked a smile. “Oh, I think you said it well enough.”
“I do not believe I could ever say it well enough,” she said, shaking her head. “The days since you left have been the darkest of my entire life. I thought I would never see you again, but... you came to speak with my uncle?”
Mory smiled and took another step closer, until she could smell the scent of salt upon his skin—never mind that he hadn’t been at sea. “I was convinced I could have India or I could have a wife and family—not both. I chose the latter and felt sure the right woman would make everything right. And then I met you—a woman different than any I had expected to find in an English drawing room.” He reached up to run his thumb along the curve of her jaw. “After leaving Franklyn Farm, I began to wonder: what if I found a woman who wanted to see the world beyond Britain?”
“I am that woman.” Lila nodded so fast his face blurred for a moment—his beautifully imperfect face. “And I can promise that I shall never behave so badly again. I shall not insult your horse, and I shan’t prattle on about politics or gossip or talk about those things that are unseemly for a woman to discuss. You shall make the decisions and—”
His look of disappointment brought her up short. “Ah, but that would be a shame,” he said.
She blinked, completely confused.
“I would, of course, prefer that you do not behave in ways you believe I would dislike, but I can’t think why a woman should have less interest in politics than a man would, and a woman ought to have more interests than embroidery and watercolor.” He paused to smile. “I am not here today because I want to make you into the kind of woman some silly magazine would tell you to be. I’m here because of the woman you are. A woman with a sharp mind, quick wit, and willingness to go after what she wants, and then apologize to a man’s face when she realizes she’s behaved badly. I cannot think of another woman in the world with as much gumption as I have seen in you, Lila.”
“It has been the trial of my uncle’s life,” she said.
“But not yours.”
She could not withhold a smile. “I have only ever regretted my boldness when I thought it kept me from you.”
He smiled widely. “On the contrary, it is exactly what drew me to you,” he whispered. He put his hands on either side of her face and cocked his head slightly to the side. “I cannot promise you great wealth, fancy dresses, or even comfort at all times, but I can promise you my heart and the adventure of a lifetime if you will agree to be my wife and come away with me.”
“I could never want for more,” she whispered, raising her chin half an inch higher. Then she pulled back. “Only, I would want to come back and see my uncle now and again.”
Mory nodded. “Any other demands?”
“Only one,” she said, rising up on her toes so they were almost eye level with one another. “You see, I have never been kissed, but when I have imagined such a thing—I really am a very wicked girl—I hoped it would be something I would feel from my head to my—”
The sensation of his lips upon her own stunned her, but she did not pull away. His hands moved from her face to her waist and pulled her closer in a quick motion that took her feet off the floor. He then wrapped his arms around her back, holding her against him and awakening senses she had only ever read about in novels her uncle did not know she read.
Epilogue
The cicadas sang outside the screened windows as the evening breeze picked up, carrying away the heavy heat and inviting in the best time of day in Assam, India. To avoid the heat, the household often stayed up late through the night and early morning hours, then slept past noon. They then only had to endure a few hours of the extreme temperatures before evening set in. It seemed as though the entire household sighed a breath of relief this time of day. Mortimer bent his head with greater attention to the accounting for the plantation, recently expanded in an effort to support two households with two men working at the management.
The men had agreed that next year Mortimer’s partner would go to England—he had not been back since taking over the management—then return and for a year they would manage in tandem before Mortimer and his dear Lila—and whoever else might have joined their family by then—would take their turn in England.
Soft footfalls distracted him from his work yet again, and he looked up to see Lila enter the room. They had arrived in Bombay in time for the monsoon season, which he felt sure would weaken her resolve, but she simply shed the unnecessary layers of undergarments—as many English women were loath to do—and updated her wardrobe with the lighter linens and silks of the native country. Neither of them minded the missing layers, and the increased comfort on Lila’s part seemed to spare her the regret he so feared she would have one day. Mortimer leaned back in his chair and reached out a hand to her. “Good evening, my dear.”
“Good evening,” she said, coming to him and sliding onto his lap. He put a hand around her waist and kissed her when she bent down to do so. “I’ve a letter from Eloise,” she said. “And I had to share it with you.”
“By all means.” He leaned back slightly as she read the letter from her friend word-for-word. There were portions Eloise would certainly have left out if she thought Mortimer would be an audience—things only women would write to one another—but Lila had no compunction, and he liked that she wanted to share every detail with him. When she finished, she let out a contented sigh and leaned back against his shoulder.
“I’m so glad she and Neville are happy together,” she said in romantic tones.
“You miss her a great deal,” Mortimer said, watching her face.
She smiled somewhat sadly and refolded the letter. “Of course,” she said. “But I do feel it best that I am here and she is there. I had no idea the feelings she had for Neville all that time—feelings she kept locked up tight so as not to hurt me. I fear that had we stayed, she would have felt awkward being courted by him.” She shook her head, then brightened her smile. She was never one to dwell on unhappiness. “Besides, she has always been the more traditional one, and I think she is perfectly content with her situation.”
“As content as you are with yours?”
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Must you always require I stroke your ego by telling you how over-the-moon happy I am with the life I get to live?”
Mortimer smiled. “It was a fear nearly twenty years in the making, and I shall need your constant help in overcoming it.”
She leaned down so that their
foreheads touched. “I am blissfully happy to be the wife of Nabob Luthford, living in a cement house in the wilds of India without corsets or neighbors but with more servants than anyone in England could imagine.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “I have no regrets.”
“I am glad,” he said. “But I may need you tell me again tomorrow.” He nodded toward the letter still in her hand. “From the sound of her letter, they are very, very happy together,” Mortimer said, trailing his fingers down Lila’s back in a way he knew would make her shiver. Which it did. “Do you share such intimate details of our life with her, as well?”
“Never you mind,” Lila said, straightening and making to stand. He pulled her back down and nuzzled her neck. She laughed but did not pull away again. “Though if you continue, I may have a very delicious story to tell; her cheeks will burn for days from it.”
He laughed and reluctantly released her as she stood again—it was too hot to explore the feeling she gave such easy rise to with more ardor. In a few more hours, however, when the early morning breezes picked up and the house was quiet—
“Cook is making that delightful curry for dinner,” Lila said, interrupting his growing expectations. “It really is a shame you can’t smell it.” She frowned, but then smiled again. “And then I should like to go for a ride since the moon is full tonight.”
“Gordon does love those midnight canters,” Mortimer said with a wink.
Lila made a pouting face. “Are you certain you don’t mind that I have deemed her my horse now?” She had given up sidesaddle as soon as they arrived and was perhaps the best horsewoman this side of Bombay.
“I am still working it through,” he said, pouting equally. “But the gelding from your uncle as a wedding gift has helped ease the sting.” He was the finest bit of horse flesh Mortimer had ever had, leaving few regrets over losing Gordon to Lila.
Lila smiled and stood. “Cook will ring the bell at nine,” she said as she moved out of the room. “I shall work on a response to Eloise’s letter until it is ready.”
Mortimer smiled and watched her go, then turned in his chair and looked over the lush forests of the surrounding country. Out of his view were rows and rows of tea plants that had made him rich, but the scrappy girl who once insulted his horse and tried very hard not to love him was by far the greatest fortune he’d ever made.
Other Works by Josi S. Kilpack:
Click on the covers to visit Josi’s Amazon author page
Josi S. Kilpack is the author of more than twenty novels, which include women’s fiction, romance, mystery, and suspense. Wedding Cake, the final book in her Sadie Hoffmiller culinary mystery series, was released in December 2014, and her Regency romance novels A Heart Revealed and Lord Fenton’s Folly were released in 2015.
Josi and her husband, Lee, are the parents of four children and live in Northern Utah. In addition to writing, Josi loves to read, bake, and travel. She’s completed six half marathons to date, but may never run another because right now she hates running and does hot yoga instead.
Josi’s website: www.josiskilpack.com
Blog: www.josikilpack.blogspot.com
Twitter: @JosiSKilpack
Chapter One
Birthdays were overrated. People really ought to stop celebrating them after the age of sixteen. Snuggled into the featherbed of her sister’s country estate, Hannah Palmer toyed with a croissant. This evening she might very well die of humiliation. Or worse, embarrass her sister and brother-in-law, the Earl and Countess of Tarrington.
Alicia practically bounced into the room. “Happy birthday, Sis!”
Hannah smiled wryly. “I think you’re happier about it than I am.”
At odds with her rank as a countess, Alicia grinned and climbed into bed with Hannah, holding her tightly. “I am happy about it. How often does a girl get to wish her favorite sister happy eighteenth birthday?”
Hannah gave her a wry smile. “I’m so relieved to learn I’m your favorite, since I have no competition.”
Alicia laughed. “It would be sad if I claimed another for that auspicious honor.” She wound a strand of Hannah’s blond hair around her finger.
“You’re more energetic than usual today.”
“Little Nicholas actually slept all night long.” A maternal tenderness crept into Alicia’s expression as it always did when she spoke of her infant son.
When the time came—if it came—Hannah planned to keep her baby in her room, rather than follow the convention of letting a nursemaid care for her child during the night hours. She vowed to be the devoted, loving mother her sister had already proved to be. Of course, she might never realize the sweet dream of motherhood.
Alicia twisted around in bed and fixed her amber gaze on Hannah. “And I’m so happy that you’re finally letting me throw a ball in your honor.”
Hannah winced. “Yes, I just love big parties filled with rooms of people I don’t know.”
“I know how you feel about it, dearest,” Alicia said soothingly. “But this will be a good practice for you before you go to London next Season. When I’m finished with you, society will toast you as the New Incomparable.”
“I’ll be a clumsy, tongue-tied idiot, just like always.”
“You’re only clumsy when you’re nervous. More practice at social events will help you not be nervous.”
Not be nervous in public? Hardly likely.
Alicia tapped her on the nose. “You are a beautiful and accomplished daughter of a respected gentleman, and the sister of a countess. No need to fear.”
“I hear blonds aren’t fashionable at present.”
“The only ones who say blond hair isn’t in fashion are those who are jealous. Just keep your head high and smile as if you know an embarrassing secret about everyone.”
Hannah stared into the flames writhing in the hearth. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple.” Alicia put an arm around her. “If you say next to nothing, everyone will think you are mysterious and will be all the more fascinated with you. Besides, you’ll wear a mask tonight. Surely anonymity will lend you courage.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Spending the evening alone with Alicia and her charming husband, Cole, would be preferable to a room full of strangers. But perhaps Alicia was right; a costume mask might help Hannah find some courage buried deep inside.
Hannah put a large spoonful of lumpy brown sugar into her chocolate, followed by a dash of cream. While Alicia rhapsodized about the ball, Hannah stirred absently before wrapping her hands around the china to warm her fingers.
Alicia ended on a sigh. “Maybe you’ll meet him tonight.”
“Him?” Hannah sipped the chocolate and snuggled into her pillows to drink the hot liquid turned decadent by the addition of the sugar and cream. Why most people chose to drink chocolate in its bitter form remained a mystery.
“Him,” Alicia repeated. “The man of your dreams. Your future husband.”
Hannah said dryly enough to be impertinent had she been speaking to a lady of rank who was not her sister, “Yes, meeting him at a ball would be convenient. I am persuaded that one must have a bit of cliché in one’s life to obtain a measure of happiness.”
“Only if you think marrying a wonderful man is cliché.”
Chuckling, Hannah shook her head. “You know very well I speak of meeting at a ball.” After setting aside her tray, she threw back the counterpane and stood. “I believe after breakfast, I’ll go for a walk, maybe pick some flowers.’
Alicia’s brow furrowed. “Oh dear. Are you sure that’s wise? I wouldn’t want you to suffer from one of your sick headaches.”
As she tied her dressing robe around her waist, Hannah exhaled a groan. “I’m not a fragile doll.”
“No, but the sunlight does seem to bring on those dreadful headaches. And with your frail health, you ought to be careful.”
It was all she could do not to snap at her sister. “My health isn’t frail; I merely get o
ccasional headaches.”
Alicia gentled her voice. “Hannah, people don’t normally get the kind of headaches where they must be shut up in a dark room with no noise for two days.”
“Some do; the doctor has seen them in other patients. And I haven’t been truly ill for years. Honestly I’m tired of everyone treating me like an invalid.”
“I’m sorry, dearest. I just don’t want anything to interfere with your enjoyment tonight.”
Hannah drew a long breath, releasing her agitation but not entirely pushing back her fear that she was sickly and might not be healthy enough to have children or even properly manage a household. “I know.”
She headed toward her dressing room but stumbled over something in her path. After sending a glare at the slippers that had tripped her, she shook her head. She must have missed the day the Almighty handed out gracefulness.
“There you are.” Cole’s voice boomed from the doorway.
Halting, Hannah wrapped her arms around herself and backed up slowly. Though Cole was her brother-in-law, a man in her room while she was in a state of dishabille pushed propriety. But she needn’t have fretted; Cole’s eyes focused solely on Alicia. Though he and her sister had been married almost three years, and Hannah had spent much time in his presence, such a powerful gentleman still sometimes left Hannah little better than speechless. Alicia hoped Hannah would meet someone like Cole in London, but the idea of hosting the type of guests a peer would entertain in his home left Hannah with the urge to hide—preferably in the library with a good book.
Surely she could find a country squire who sought little to no contact with society and all its games and demands, someone who would not require his wife to live in the center of the beau monde. Of course, any husband would expect children, which might be problematic.
“I have an appointment with the Duke of Suttenberg,” Cole continued. “And then I am at your disposal for the rest of the day.”
Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade Page 8
